The Singhania Mansion was not a home; it was a fortress of glass and steel. As the massive iron gates groaned open, Avani felt a shiver run down her spine. The driveway was lined with manicured trees, their leaves whispering secrets in the dark.
Aryan didn't wait for her. The moment the limousine stopped, he stepped out, his tall frame disappearing into the grand entrance. Avani followed slowly, her heavy silk saree trailing on the polished marble floor.
"Your room is on the second floor. The third door to the right," Aryan's voice echoed through the vast hallway. He was standing by the mahogany staircase, loosening his tie.
"And my father?" Avani asked, her voice trembling slightly. "The hospital said the surgery is tomorrow morning."
Aryan turned around, his eyes cold and unreadable. "The best surgeons in the country are handling it. Your part of the deal is done, Avani. Now, start playing yours."
"What do you mean?"
"Tomorrow night is the Annual Charity Gala," Aryan said, stepping closer. The scent of his expensive cologne clouded her senses. "The world needs to see Mrs. Aryan Singhania. I don't care how tired you are or how much you hate me. You will be there, looking like the queen of this empire."
Avani clutched the railing. "I am not a trophy, Aryan."
A dark smirk touched his lips. "In this house, everything has a price. I paid yours. Now, go to sleep."
He walked away, leaving her alone in the silence of the massive hall. Avani entered her room, and her breath hitched. It was larger than her entire apartment. Walk-in closets, a king-sized bed, and a balcony overlooking the city. But to her, it felt like a prison cell made of gold.
She sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the silver ring on her finger. It felt like a shackle. Suddenly, her phone buzzed. A message from an unknown number.
"Don't get too comfortable in that bed, Avani. The Singhanias have secrets that blood cannot wash away."
Avani's heart hammered against her ribs. Who was this? And what did they know about the man she had just married?