Watch my tongue?

Hearing Deepak's words, Grandma shot him a piercing glare, her voice sharp and commanding. "Deepak! Watch your tongue."

"Watch my tongue? Me?" Deepak scoffed, his tone dripping with defiance. "How long do you think you can silence me, Grandma? The truth, no matter how deeply buried, always finds its way out."

With that, Deepak stormed out, his fists clenched tightly, his eyes brimming with hatred and anger—emotions directed solely at Devansh Kapoor.

Among the many whispers surrounding Devansh, one rumor stood out—dark and infamous.

It was said that Devansh had burned his father, Naman Kapoor, alive and had mercilessly killed his elder brother, Mohit Kapoor.

But was there any truth to it? No one knew for sure.

The varying accounts, hushed tones, and silence of the Kapoor family often turned this shadowy rumor into an unspoken reality.

Beyond their immense wealth and influence, the Kapoor family was infamous for two things:

First, "The secrets and enigmas that shrouded the Kapoor family."

And second, "The second son, Devansh Kapoor—a man as enigmatic as he was powerful."

He was a riddle no one could solve, a puzzle that defied understanding.

Even Anesha, his wife of two years, had never seen his face. Despite living under the same roof and sharing the same bedroom, Devansh always concealed his face behind a black leather mask.

Between them, the usual boundaries of propriety had long dissolved. They had grown intimately close—so much so that their son, born two years ago, was living proof of their bond.

Yet, despite the depth of their physical and emotional connection, Devansh had never allowed Anesha to see the man behind the mask.

And it wasn't just her.

Not a single soul, not even his family, had ever laid eyes on his face.

The reason? That, too, was a mystery.

When Hina returned home that evening, her father confronted her with a fury she had never seen before.

"Hina! Have you lost your mind? How could you agree to an engagement with a married man?"

Pausing on the stairs, Hina turned to face him.

Her calm expression betrayed none of the turmoil within, her eyes reflecting an unshakable resolve.

In a measured tone, she replied, "Dad, I love him. That's why I agreed. His marital status doesn't matter to me."

Her father stood there, stunned.

Hina, the sensible, obedient daughter who always heeded his words, had become unrecognizable—a young woman speaking with the reckless certainty of someone deeply in love.

Before he could unleash his anger, Hina's voice cut through the silence once more.

"Let's discuss this tomorrow, Dad. I'm tired and need some rest."

Without waiting for a response, she ascended the stairs and disappeared into her room.

Her father glared at the closed door for a moment before storming out of the house, heading straight to the hospital.

Vaibhav, who lay there in pain, had lost his eyesight completely. Both of his eyes were damaged beyond repair, and no doctor dared perform a transplant.

This was the result of Devansh Kapoor's orders—orders so absolute that even the wealth and power of the Singhania family were rendered useless.

Their helplessness spoke volumes about the unparalleled dominance of Devansh Kapoor.

Inside her room, Hina's calm demeanor gave way to an eruption of rage.

She grabbed a flowerpot from the coffee table and hurled it to the floor, shards scattering like her fractured thoughts.

Through gritted teeth, she seethed, "Devansh Kapoor! You've gone too far. You and your new bride will pay dearly for this. Very dearly."

Meanwhile, at an opulent hotel suite,

Devansh carried Anesha into his lavish presidential suite, cradling her as though she were the most precious treasure.

He gently placed her on the king-size bed, carefully removing the earbuds from her ears and setting them on the nightstand.

Standing beside the bed, he gazed at her serene face.

Her flushed cheeks glowed under the dim light, a result of the intoxicants still coursing through her veins.

Devansh stood tall, his white shirt neatly tucked into his trousers. Though his tie hung loose and his jet-black hair was slightly disheveled, he exuded a rugged elegance.

The stray strands falling over his forehead softened his otherwise commanding presence, but his eyes—intense and penetrating—held a storm of emotions.

Leaning in, he traced her delicate features with his rough fingertips, his voice low and filled with longing.

"You made a mistake coming to me, my love," he murmured, his tone both tender and possessive. "You've sealed your fate. From this moment on, you'll belong to me—completely. There's no escape from my passion."

Anesha remained unaware, lost in her dreamless slumber, oblivious to the storm brewing around her.

Devansh's hand moved to her lips—soft, pink, and untouched by the world's harshness. He inhaled deeply, his senses overwhelmed by her scent, a fragrance as intoxicating as a blooming rose.

Lowering his face closer to hers, he whispered, "Two years, Anesha. Two years of longing, of restraint. But no more. Now, I'll lose myself in you, drown in your essence, and claim you once again—this time, forever."

What secrets does Devansh's mask conceal? How will Anesha react when she awakens? And what is the price Hina is plotting to exact?

_____________________

What will happen next?

To know…

To be continued…