The fall of Betrayers

The night was thick with silence, broken only by the slow, measured steps of Ranvijay as he approached the bloodied attacker kneeling before him. The man's face was twisted in pain, a deep gash marking his forehead, his breath ragged as he struggled under the weight of the guards holding him down.

Ranvijay's sharp eyes bore into him, his presence towering in a crisp black suit, the air around him heavy with restrained fury. His hands were in his pockets, but the menace in his gaze was enough to make the attacker tremble.

"Who sent you?" His voice was calm, too calm, like the stillness before a storm.

The attacker swallowed hard, glancing around as if seeking an escape, but there was none. The prince's men were everywhere, forming an impenetrable wall of authority.

"It… it was your wife's stepmother," the man confessed, voice quivering. "She… she ordered us to ruin her face. Said that if the princess was no longer beautiful, you would discard her, and she would get all her property."

A deadly silence followed.

Ranvijay's jaw clenched, his fingers twitching slightly, but his control was unwavering. His mind burned with fury, but his expression remained unreadable.

"Is that so?" He muttered, stepping forward. In one swift motion, he grabbed the attacker by the collar and yanked him closer.

"You touched my wife," he said, his voice low and lethal. "You thought I would turn away from her? You thought her beauty is what keeps her in my life?"

The man let out a strangled noise, choking as Ranvijay's grip tightened.

Ranvijay leaned in, his breath cold against the man's face. "Let me tell you something. Myra is mine. No force in this world, not even her hatred, will take her from me. And as for the woman who sent you…" A dangerous smirk curled his lips. "She will pay. They all will."

He let go with a rough shove, and the man collapsed, coughing violently.

Ranvijay turned to his guards, his voice cutting through the night like a blade. "Take him. Make sure he understands what happens when someone touches what belongs to me."

The guards nodded, dragging the attacker away, his pleas fading into the distance.

Ranvijay exhaled slowly, his rage simmering beneath his skin. His mind was already spinning with plans. He had played along long enough, let them think he was their puppet. But now?

Now, he would take everything from them.

They wanted to ruin Myra's face? They wanted him to hate her? Fools. They didn't understand that his love for Myra was not something that could be broken by scars or schemes.

If they thought they could strip Myra of what was rightfully hers, he would strip them of everything they owned.

It was time to leave them penniless. Helpless. Just as they had left Myra all these years.

And he would do it with Myra hating him, unaware of the storm he was about to unleash for her sake.

Let her hate him. Let her believe he was working with her stepmother. None of it mattered.

Because at the end of it all—she would still be his.

Myra's father and stepmother sat in the grand lounge of Rajgarh Palace, summoned by the prince himself.

The towering walls, the intricate chandeliers, the sheer opulence—it all screamed of power. His power.

Her father shifted uncomfortably on the velvet couch, while her stepmother, draped in her finest saree, held an air of arrogance.

Then the double doors swung open.

Ranvijay entered, exuding an aura of dominance, his sharp black suit tailored to perfection. He moved like a storm contained in human form, slow and deliberate, the weight of his presence suffocating the air.

Her stepmother's lips curled into a practiced smile. "Your Highness," she greeted, feigning respect. "You called for us?"

Ranvijay walked to the high-backed chair, the kind meant for a ruler, and sat down. He crossed his legs, fingers interlacing, watching them like prey.

"Yes." His voice was smooth, but there was something dangerous beneath it. "I did."

Her father cleared his throat. "Is something wrong?"

Ranvijay smirked. "You tell me."

Silence.

Then he threw a black folder onto the table between them. It landed with a thud, making her father flinch.

"Open it."

Hesitation flickered in his father-in-law's eyes before he picked up the file and flipped through it. His face drained of color.

His voice wavered. "This… this is…"

"Everything you own," Ranvijay finished coldly. "Your businesses, your estates, your accounts… all transferred to my name."

Her stepmother's composure shattered. "You can't do this!" she snapped, shooting up from her seat.

"Oh, but I already have." Ranvijay's smirk vanished, his voice turning lethal. "You think I'd let you walk free after what you did to Myra?"

Her father swallowed. "W-What are you talking about?"

Ranvijay's jaw ticked. "The attack on us." He leaned forward, his eyes dark with fury. "Your wife planned to have Myra's face ruined so I would despise her."

His words hit like a whip.

Her stepmother stiffened but quickly masked it with mock innocence. "That's ridiculous—"

Before she could finish, a stack of photographs landed on the table.

Ranvijay stood, adjusting his cuffs. "Your game is over. You'll leave Rajgarh with nothing. Not a single rupee, not a name to stand on. From this moment on, you're penniless."

Mrs singh's voice rose in frustration, her carefully crafted mask cracking at the edges.

"But didn't you take her because she's of no use?" she demanded, her eyes blazing with disbelief. "You never liked her, then why are you doing this to us?"

Ranvijay let out a low chuckle, his expression unreadable. He leaned back against the grand desk, crossing his arms over his broad chest, his sharp black suit emphasizing the sheer dominance he exuded.

He tilted his head slightly, watching Mrs Singh squirm. "Is that what you thought?" His voice was laced with amusement.

Mrs Singh clenched her jaw. "You said it yourself. She was nothing to you. An inconvenience."

Ranvijay pushed off the desk and took slow, measured steps toward her, his gaze turning colder with each step.

"And you believed me?" he asked softly, his voice dangerously smooth. "You, of all people, should know how deception works."

Mrs Singh faltered, her confidence wavering for the first time.

"I took her," Ranvijay continued, his voice deepening, "because she was mine. She has always been mine." His eyes darkened, the weight of his words suffocating. "You thought I would throw her away like a pawn? That I would stand by and let you ruin her?"

Mrs singh swallowed, suddenly unsure of her footing.

"You planned to scar her face, so I'd be disgusted by her?" He let out a humorless chuckle. "How foolish of you."

His expression turned ruthless, and for the first time, Mrs singh felt true fear.

"Her beauty was never what drew me to her," Ranvijay murmured, his voice dangerously low. "It was her. The girl who still carries the pain you inflicted, who still looks at me with those defiant, wounded eyes… and I want every part of her, broken or whole. All I wanted this Marriage to be successful with any hindrances that's all you were a fool to believe me"

Mrs singh gasped softly.

Ranvijay turned slightly, his gaze flickering to Myra's father, who had been watching the exchange in silence, his face pale with realization.

"And you," Ranvijay said, his tone dropping to a lethal whisper. "You let this woman torment your daughter, hoping she would break so you could control her. You failed as a father, and now, you're nothing."

He smirked, tilting his head slightly. "How does it feel, knowing you've lost everything?"

Myra's father clenched his fists, his jaw tight with helpless rage.

Ranvijay turned back to Mrs singh watching her with something akin to amusement. "You always thought you were in control, didn't you?" His voice was mocking now. "And yet, here you are. Penniless. Powerless. Reduced to nothing but a bitter, defeated woman."

Mrs singh breathing turned erratic, her nails digging into her palms.

"You'll regret this," she hissed. "One day, you'll regret choosing her over us."

Ranvijay's smirk deepened. "I've never regretted anything in my life." He stepped closer, his voice turning into a whisper that sent chills down her spine. "And I never will."

Ranvijay let out a low chuckle, dark and amused

Mrs Singh gritted her teeth. "You're ruining us for her? That girl—she hates you! She thinks you're one of us! She will never love you, Ranvijay!"

"She doesn't need to."

His voice was soft, but possessive.

"Because whether she hates me or not… she's still mine."

With that, he turned and strode out, his coat billowing behind him like the shadow of a conqueror.

He had taken everything from them.

And now, Myra was his in every way.