Shruti

******

I wasn't accustomed to this. Throughout my entire life, I had been raised and taught to seek attention, but this was different, intense, and for entirely unwanted reasons. The eyes on me seemed determined to consume me, and while their whispered words remained incoherent, I could decipher their meaning.

"WHORE."

That's what they believed me to be, what the world judged me as—a pitiful whore. It was the combination of those two words that stung the most. I could endure being called a whore because, every so often, a woman faces that label, regardless of her obedience, loyalty, or strength. I had always braced myself for it, understanding how cruel the world could be. However, pity was something I loathed because it made me feel vulnerable, painting me pathetic in the eyes of others.

I would willingly embrace being labeled a scornful woman over being seen as a pitiable one.

I hadn't uttered a single word when Luca chose not to take me back to the residence where I had awoken the previous day. Luca had a close working relationship with him, always aware of his whereabouts. That's why, without a word, I silently trailed him into the outskirts of the city's club. I was quite familiar with this establishment. Renowned for its opulent walls, gleaming floors, and affluent clientele, it was infamous for its year-round, 24/7 service. What it wasn't famous for, however, were the clandestine meetings that took place in a private alley in the basement of the club. Dhriti had brought me there once, intending to meet Namit, while I waited outside. Entrance was forbidden to me because I wasn't part of any ace family. This location often hosted meetings for anti-mafia organizations, including the 5 Ace team. Surprisingly, no one stopped me as I made my way to the basement, almost as if they were expecting my arrival. All the while, I endured pitiful and disdainful glares, which left me feeling uncomfortably vulnerable. The eerie sensation gnawed at me as I realized that he, too, seemed to favor the darkness, much like his own soul, explaining his comfort within a place that seemed shrouded in obscurity and darkness at every turn.

Luca continued to clear the path ahead of me, only coming to a halt right in front of the red door at the far end of the hallway.

"You can't proceed beyond this point. You'll have to wait," he informed me. I wrinkled my nose in irritation.

No one had the right to dictate what Shruti Saxena could or couldn't do. Disregarding his admonition, I forcefully swung open the door, only to be immediately engulfed by a wave of regret. More than fifteen individuals occupied the room, their collective gaze fixating on me. Some towered over seven feet in height, adorned with hefty tattoos on their exposed arms. Others bore scars on their faces and possessed imposing physiques. They all appeared to be armed. If not for my prior knowledge, I might have mistaken them for members of a criminal organization. Yet, what filled me with even greater remorse was the sight of my uncle seated opposite the man who exuded devilish handsomeness and agonizing malevolence.

Six feet two inches.

Immaculate two-piece suit.

Gelled hair.

Brown eyes.

Piercing gaze on me.

I loathed how, with a single glance, he had me rooted in place.

I despised how his solemn expression sent shivers down my spine.

I abhorred the fact that my arrival didn't seem to faze him in the slightest, as if it were natural for me to be there, as if it were too conventional.

"I thought I had taught you better etiquette," my not-so-impressive uncle couldn't resist chiming in, ruffling my feathers with the etiquette lessons he had conveniently forgotten to take.

"You've taught me nothing," I retorted with seething anger.

"Indeed. If I did, you would not have gone and knocked up your father's old associate," he remarked, evoking a surge of bitterness that rose like bile in my throat. I tasted a metallic tang of iron as I bit my inner cheek. I fought the urge to give in to his way. He wanted the world to see me as a messy, uncultured woman, but I was resolute, resisting the urge to yield. In the past, I might have acted impulsively, but now, with a life growing inside me, I had to exercise caution.

The next scene had me aghast and sick to my stomach. Feeling queasy, I stumbled back with my hands pressed tightly over my mouth.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

The sound reverberated as blood trickled from my uncle's right arm, forming a macabre pool on the floor. A few seconds earlier, he was deriding me and now writhing in pain. His face contorted with agony, and anguished screams echoed through the room, yet no one in attendance seemed to care.

No man dared to go help him and watched the scene as if it were ordinary, as if they were bored with what they had seen and expected some form of thrill.

The venerated prince stood beside the table, methodically wiping his sword clean on the tie wrapped around my uncle's neck.

"I suppose this serves as your answer to the proposal," he calmly stated.

He was so nonchalant about everything that it ignited the fire of loath in me. I did not like my Uncle yet I struggled to accept the shocking turn of events. But I couldn't care less. Not everyone was like me, who would just walk away. Some believed in instant vengeance and brutal methods and Hredhaan Rajvansh was the one who would always choose that path I had heard. That was my first time witnessing it.

His gaze flicked back to me, and for a fleeting moment, I detected a hint of something soft in his eyes, quickly concealed by the darkness that seemed to envelop his soul. He never once bared himself in front of me. Even in my moments of loathing, I yearned for him to reveal his true self, which only intensified my hatred. His presence was enough to put conflicting immoral thoughts in my head.

"OUT."

His eyes bore into me, leaving me feeling nothing short of humiliating. I had been foolish to think he would engage in conversation with someone like me. I was some lowly life while he was the mighty lord. No matter what the headlines stated, it was for sure something he never said.

I turned on my heels to make my exit because that gut-wrenching scene and humiliation were enough for me. However, my steps faltered when I observed every man in the room rising and moving out, without exception. Two of them carried my uncle out. To be honest, they dragged him out, leaving the grisly trail of blood behind. Another carried his severed hand in a handkerchief, as if it was a dead rat destined for the trash can.

The air grew heavier as the room emptied. My gaze remained fixed on the door, and I could feel his eyes on me. My entire body reacted to it involuntarily. He made me feel things even when there was animosity between us.

How ironic!

When I turned around, he was not looking at me but rather folding his sleeves to his arms' length. His coat was neatly placed on the rear of the leathered brown chair. He moved towards a small room within the cabin, retrieved a stick mop, and began the task of cleaning the blood that had splattered onto the floor.

I had never envisioned Hredhaan Rajvansh engaging in such a task. His expression was still solemn, his veins visible to pop out of his arms.

'Stop gawking at him, Shruti,' I chided myself.

Guess that man had more layers than one could even fathom or think about.

He did not even glance at me, irking me. It was as if I were invisible, as if he hadn't almost ruined everything by pretending to save me the other day, as if he hadn't told the press that I was carrying his child.

The headlines that had rocked my world that morning read: "The Royal Prince's Illicit Affair: Woman of Diminished Honor Now Pregnant."

The mix of agony and fury within me intensified, and I spoke up.

"I want to talk." He continued to ignore me, carrying on with his cleaning as if I weren't there, while I seethed.

"I said, I want to talk," I emphasized each word the next time, my frustration growing palpable.

He stole a glance in the direction of the small room before returning the mop to its place. When he came back, his gaze lingered on the spot, as if ensuring it was as clean as a mirror before he started to unroll his sleeves.

I took determined strides toward him, invaded his personal space, and stood mere inches away from him. The proximity did worse for me. He stared me down as I grabbed a handful of his shirt over his chest, and a sense of intimidation washed over me. His skin exuded warmth, a heat that seemed to sear into me. My heart skipped a beat, and my voice caught in my throat. I was undeniably frightened, and I knew he was well aware of it. Amusement briefly flickered in his eyes before being shrouded by darkness once more.

"Care to explain today's headline?" I managed to say as I reluctantly and unwillingly released my grip on his shirt. For some inexplicable reason, the touch had felt strangely comforting, and I couldn't help but feel ashamed of that fact.

"You can read quite well," he remarked, smoothing his shirt, which had been creased by my grasp.

He walked back to his seat, and my eyes caught sight of legal documents scattered across the table. My curiosity got the better of me, and I attempted to sneak a peek at them. However, he swiftly snatched them away from my view and concealed them in the left drawer of the table.

"This child is not yours."

He gritted his teeth as if I was the annoying presence he wished to have thrown away instantly.

"I am busy, Leonessa."

The name Leonessa dripped languidly from his lips, raising goosebumps on my skin. He couldn't have missed how my body reacted to the way he referred to me, and I despised that, too.

"Shruti. My name is Shruti. How many times must I remind you?"

It felt like talking to a brick wall; there was no point in arguing further. I sighed, recognizing that conversing with him was an uphill battle, especially when the other person used too few words and showed no inclination to talk.

"I don't care how you handle it, but I want this news erased. Tell the press the truth that this child isn't yours. I can't stand having your name associated with me or my baby." I rushed through my words, and a hint of breathlessness hung in the air, making my throat dry.

"I would have done it myself, but right now, I'm not in a position to..." My words caught in my throat as the rim of a glass filled with water touched my lips. He loomed over me, holding the glass close to my mouth. I needed it, desperately. On any other day, I might have thrown it in his face, but circumstances had changed. With eagerness, I pressed the glass to my lips and emptied its contents. He kept his gaze on me, making me feel uncomfortably exposed.

After quenching my thirst, he took the glass from my hands and placed it on the table. His prolonged and intense stare continued, and all he offered in response was a simple "No."

My heart sank at his denial.

"This isn't your child."

"Really? Are you certain?" I nodded.

"Then whose is it?"

I hadn't considered what I would tell the world amidst the current chaos when everyone would demand a name. He was challenging me, but I refused to give in.

"Someone who is not you."

"You can't bring out a name and then say it's not mine."

"It's because.... I don't want to tell you." I admitted with a tremor in my voice and a hint of uncertainty. I had no recollection of that fateful night, no knowledge of the father's identity. Moreover, I couldn't bring myself to care much about it.

"Tell me, Leonessa, do you even remember who it was?"

His tone seemed mocking, his voice barely a whisper, as his hands pinned me between his imposing presence and the table behind me. His hands firmly gripped the table's edges, mine mirroring his stance. We had been in close proximity before, but something felt unsettlingly different about his aura now—his tone, demeanor, a peculiar determination lingering in the air.

"You can't scare me."

Amusement played in his eyes again. I was intimidated because I was pregnant. Yes, right, that explains me not fighting back much. I was tired of all the morning sickness and being dizzy; I said to myself in my head.

"Ucciderò chiunque pensi anche solo di spaventarti."

[I will kill everyone who even thinks to scare you.]

"Speak in English," I retorted, feigning annoyance, while he appeared to derive pleasure from my discomfort.

"This baby is mine." He said resolutely, his gaze locked intently on my stomach, causing my breath to hitch.

"Who do you take me for? A fool?" I should have shouted the words, but they emerged as a whisper.

He locked me in an intense stare, his eyes holding a blend of darkness, fire, and sparks.

"luce dei miei occhi"

[Light of my life]

I did not know what it meant, even when it made me shudder. But I refused to give him the benefit of the doubt and assured myself it was something sinister only.

However, I couldn't help but ask him, "What does it mean?"

"Walking disaster," he replied, his words slicing through me, cutting me deep and I recalled the news article that had all the colorful words for me printed on it.

Low class

Whore

Orphan

I have had enough of him annoying the hell out of me. Besides, I was too weak to argue.

"Listen, Mr. Rajvansh, I don't give a shit about whatever you said. All I want is to clear the mess you have created. Don't you have a wedding and a fiance to think about?" I thought I had struck a nerve, as he suddenly seemed furious, his eyes darkening to their deepest shade. He pressed some kind of alarm button. A minute later, Luca walked in.

Stepping away from me, as if I disgusted him, he averted his gaze. He turned to Luca and issued an order, "Escort Miss Saxena safely to her destination."

"No, thank you. I can manage on my own. Besides, I have work to attend to. Not everyone is born with a diamond spoon in their mouth."

Completely evading my every syllable, he said something in Italian to Luca.

"Sai cosa devi fare."

[You know what you have to do.]

"Verrà fatto senza problemi,"Luca replied in the same language, and I rolled my eyes.

[It will be done without an issue]

All I could pick out was "problemi," which clearly meant "problem." He viewed me as a problem when, in reality, he was the one causing all the trouble.

"I hate you!" I yelled at him, capturing his attention.

"Dolce piccola bugiarda," he retorted, emphasizing each word and further fueling my anger.

[Sweet little liar.]

I knew it meant the feeling was mutual. I stormed out of the cabin, unable to bear his presence any longer, with Luca following behind me. Once I was outside, a sense of emptiness enveloped my soul. With him, I could momentarily forget what loneliness felt like, even in the midst of our arguments. And I despised he had the power to make me feel that way.

I hated him with every fiber of my being.

******

Hredhaan

******

"Here is the highlight of the nation." As soon as I stepped into the Ace Club meeting room in my house, I heard Kiaan taking a dig at me. All four of the Aces had gathered around the round table, and I took my designated seat.

"Rajvansh, you messed up," Namit stated solemnly.

I knew that, and I didn't need constant reminders of what had happened that afternoon. That man, Shiv, had been badmouthing the one woman I would keep hidden from the world if she were in my hands. However, I didn't consider it a major mistake or messing up much. I hadn't even begun yet.

"Words travel fast," Arjun remarked, eyeing me, attempting to gauge my reaction to his lawyer's analytical mind. Unfortunately for him, he was drawing a blank this time.

"Congratulations on the new information," I said casually, resting my elbows on the table.

"This is not funny." Namit retorted, his seriousness likely stemming from his concern for Dhriti. However, the last thing I wanted was for my friends to get involved in my affairs with the woman who knew how to turn my world upside down.

"I'm not laughing."

"A man nearly dropped dead in your office, Rajvansh. Given the current circumstances, you understand how dangerous this could be for us. There are parasites out there who want to see one of us fall to dismantle aces completely."

There was an internal infiltrator within the organization that had made us cautious for months. Whoever it was wanted nothing more than the downfall of Aces, and the easiest path was to expose us to the world and reveal our secrets, and then there would be no Aces, no organization, no fight for justice.

Others thought I had acted recklessly, but I disagreed. Not even my rage was to blame. Even in my right mind, I would build an army of the dead for her. What I felt for her was far from healthy, but 'healthy' was not a word that had ever applied to my life.

"What do you plan to do about this?" Kiaan slid the newspaper with the headline in front of me. I didn't want to look at it again. The moment I saw it, I had ordered Luca to deal with the person responsible for the article.

"I doubt we gathered here to discuss my personal life."

"Dhriti loves her like a sister," Namit interjected. I cared for Dhriti and she loved the woman who gets annoyed by my Italian. But I had no intention of listening to anyone when it came to matters concerning her.

For heaven's sake, I knew what I was doing.

"You should have told me this was about my personal life. I would have sent an assistant instead." I shot him a glare, and he returned it. Dhruv, who had been calm until now, cleared his throat.

"Khanna," he addressed Namit. He was the only one in the room who remained composed, perhaps because he knew he wouldn't appreciate our meddling if he were in the same position. Namit fell silent after that.

"What are you going to do about Alisha?" Dhruv inquired about my namesake fiance.

"She's already been dealt with." He nodded, and the others eventually dropped the subject, shifting their focus to the real reason we had gathered: finding the mole.

******

Author

******

While Hredhaan, Namit, and Dhruv engaged in a serious discussion on how to address the new problem that had surfaced, Kiaan and Arjun had their attention diverted elsewhere. Both of them had their ears attuned to the conversation while also discreetly observing Hredhaan. They knew that the chaos was just beginning, and it was bound to last a while longer.

"He's going to get slapped before getting laid," Kiaan remarked casually as he took a sip of his Martini. Arjun crunched a wafer between his teeth, his gaze still fixed on Hredhaan. Their actions drew glares from the three others, who then returned to their original conversation. Kiaan wore a smug smirk, earning another glare from Arjun.

"I doubt he'll even get laid," Arjun retorted, his gaze never wavering from Hredhaan, as if trying to pierce him with his stare.

"Yeah, with that attitude, definitely not."

"It'll be the right cheek," Kiaan added confidently, which left Arjun surprised.

"No, it'll be the left." Arjun had a completely different theory for some reason, believing it would be the left cheek.

"Is the bet on?" Kiaan asked.

"There's no way she'll choose the right one."

"We'll see." Kiaan was uncharacteristically determined to prove his best friend wrong.

"Get me a Porsche, Malhotra."

Arjun opened his mouth, but Kiaan interjected him, "I know what you want, glutton. Besides, I won't need specific details. I am gonna win this one."

Kiaan had never lost any bet. Though every time Arjun and Kiaan would bet on the same thing for the very first time, their opinions did not match. Arjun's lawyer instincts led him one way, while Kiaan's shrewd intuition led him to another. Soon enough, they would find out whether Hredhaan would indeed be slapped by Shruti or not. And if yes, which cheek was it going to be?

******

Hredhaan

******

After the boys left, I received the call I had somewhat pushed to the back of my mind. It had been weeks since I'd spoken to him for the first time, and I wasn't exactly looking forward to this call. I could feel a seething rage building up within me.

I let the call ring and poured a glass of golden whiskey. My tie was undone, and my coat hung neatly in the closet. After taking a sip of the drink I had in hand, I picked up the call and allowed him to begin the conversation without any formal greetings. Not that I expected much courtesy from a man like him.

"You didn't call, so I thought I'd remind you of our deal."

"We never made a deal," I said, feeling a sense of disgust. I still remembered our initial meeting, which had primarily consisted of him begging for what he wanted. I hadn't agreed to his lecherous demands. He was the last resort in my plan, but that didn't mean I couldn't have found another way that didn't involve him.

"Officially, no. But we both know who will benefit more from this," he replied. He clearly didn't understand how I operated. He had only seen me working with other Aces, not individually. Otherwise, he would have been begging for his life. I could have handled him differently, but I didn't want any more blood on my hands than I already had, at least not yet. So, for now, I played along.

"What do you want?"

"I like how you get straight to the point," he chuckled before answering my question.

"Five million."

"I'll wait for your call. You have twenty-four hours. If you don't call me back by tomorrow night, she'll learn your little secret." He hung up, likely trying to intimidate me. Little did he know, he had just sealed his own fate. Dealing with this man wasn't something I looked forward to, but with her involved, the sooner I dealt with him, the better. I tossed my phone onto my bed and stared out of the window into the dark night.

I took another sip of the bitter alcohol. I knew I would have to handle this situation in a less straightforward manner. Deviousness would be required to remove this thorn standing between me and my ultimate goal.