Page 19

Jhankar stares into his eyes, her breath trembling. What she sees in them isn’t just danger, it’s the terrifying weight of truth. She swallows hard, trying to break free, her eyes shifting to the side in despair, and he loosens his grip but doesn't move. She places her hands on his chest, pushing him away. Sensing her resistance, he slightly loosens his grip but still doesn’t release her fully. Guiding her toward the bed with firm control, he forces her to sit. Then, he moves back to the sofa and calls out in a thunderous voice.

“Helper...”

The maid hurries in with a plate of food, her head bowed low. Jhankar’s eyes remain fixed on Vikrant, not even acknowledging the helper. She watches every expression on his face, trying tomake sense of the man in front of her. Vikrant turns his fury on the helper.

“When something is supposed to be done, why don’t you do it on time? You’ve known for two hours that she needs to be fed, what caused the delay?”

“I-I’m sorry, sir,”

She replies, keeping her gaze fixed on the floor. She doesn’t dare look up as she places the food carefully on the table beside Jhankar and begins to serve her. Jhankar glances at the food, then looks up at Vikrant again. He hasn’t moved. He sits there, silently watching her, his expression unreadable. He speaks once more, not to her, but to the helper.

“You can leave now. After she eats, you all know what needs to be done. And I don’t want any mess.”

“Yes, sir...”

The helper bows once again before quickly leaving the room. She quickly disappears from the room, knowing that lingering even a second longer could put her life in danger. Jhankar, now seated on the bed, clenches her fists in her lap, refusing to touch the food. But her heart pounds with conflicting emotions: rage, helplessness, and the bitter weight of the truth Vikrant has just thrust in front of her. Vikrant’s full attention now shifts to Jhankar, who refuses to look directly at him, her eyes wandering across the room as if searching for an escape route. He glances at the food and then addresses her calmly but firmly.

“Let’s eat something. After that, we have to talk about something important.”

“I don’t want to eat. Say whatever you want to say. But first, let me meet my parents.”

"First, you will eat," he replies, his tone brooking no argument. "Then some people will come in and help you get ready. We're going to the hospital to meet my mother. After that, you’ll be allowed to meet your parents properly. No one will stop you. They’ll be going home with full respect afterward."

Upon hearing those words, Jhankar’s expression changes. Her eyes flicker with urgency, and she interrupts him.

“I want to go with my parents.”

Vikrant falls silent, staring at her intently, his expression unreadable. Jhankar, unwilling to be restrained any longer, takes a firm step toward the door. Without hesitation, she attempts to open it, only to find it locked. Realizing this, she immediately turns back, her eyes burning with disbelief and fury. Vikrant remains seated calmly on the sofa, one leg crossed over the other, watching her without a flicker of concern. She storms toward him, her voice shaking with rage.

“Open the door. I have to go from here with my parents. That’s all I know.”

He raises an eyebrow, his voice low but menacing.

“So, you’re saying you don’t care about your parents? Or your brother?”

“Mr. Vikrant Dhanraj,” she says through gritted teeth, “whatever threats you’re trying to make, keep them to yourself. I’m not afraid of you. I’ve told you what I want; meeting my parents is the only thing that matters to me right now. I don’t care about anything else. So stop trying to manipulate me.”

Vikrant's jaw tightens. No one had ever dared defy him so directly before. Anger boils inside him, but he knows he cannotafford to lose control, not with this girl, not at this moment. Taking a deep breath, he speaks with deliberate clarity.

"You’re not willing to listen to me, yet you expect me to listen to you? Do I look like a fool to you?"

Jhankar’s fury is at its peak, but fear is nowhere in her stance. Though she is alone with him, her mind remains preoccupied with only one thought—her parents. Where are they? Are they safe? She places one hand on her forehead and the other on her waist, pacing briefly before turning sharply back to him and shouting.

“Exactly what do you want?”

“Eat your meal first,” he commands, his voice now laced with restrained irritation.

“I don’t want anything!”

She snaps at him with such intensity that even Vikrant momentarily restrains his reply. Instead, he gazes into her eyes, speaking with barely controlled authority. The force behind his gaze unnerves her, yet she refuses to submit. He shrugs off his suit jacket and settles back into the sofa, relaxed yet intimidating. He conceals two holstered pistols beneath his arms and tucks another one visibly at his waist. Jhankar observes them right away. Her eyes freeze on the weapons, but soon they travel upward, locking with his. He repeats himself, more sternly this time.

“EAT. YOUR. FOOD.”

Conflicted and anxious, Jhankar is torn. Her heart races with thoughts of her brother and parents. She isn't concerned about this man’s power or what he wants from her. She only knows that as long as her family is in his grip, she must survive andmust endure. If obeying means gaining a moment with them, she’ll bear it. She sits down at the table silently, picks up a morsel of food, and shoves it in her mouth. She breaks each bite quickly, chewing minimally, swallowing each piece with gulps of water to mask her resistance. It’s not nourishment she’s seeking—it’s survival.

Vikrant observes every move with sharp, unreadable eyes, his face as still as stone. He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t blink. He just watches. Jhankar finishes the plate quickly, barely tasting a single bite, then stands with the glass still in her hand. She’s still chewing the last bit of food with difficulty, using the water to force it down.

“I want to meet my parents first.”