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  • 14 Aug, 2026 · Mature

Violence ahead

The penthouse on the forty-fourth floor was a fortress of cold minimalism, wrapped entirely in glass that mirrored the glittering, indifferent skyline of the city. At 22, Priyasha Malhotra inhabited a space that was simultaneously a luxury suite and a high-security prison. Three years ago, she had been an emerging model with ambitions that stretched far beyond the runway, her striking features and effortless poise making her a rising favorite among high-fashion designers.

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  • Aradhya : bound by bloodAradhya : bound by blood

    Aradhya : bound by blood

    Prologue: The Price of Stardom The water was always too cold, and Ahaan's patience was always too thin. "Again," Ahaan said, his voice dropping into that familiar, terrifyingly gentle register that never once matched the violence of his actions. "I'm tired," Aradhya begged, her voice raw, trembling against the sterile, soundproofed walls of the recording studio. "Sing, Aradhya. I don't have the whole day," he replied smoothly. She cried, a silent, helpless slipping of tears that she had learned never to wipe away. It only prolonged the waiting. He didn't hesitate. He slapped her-precise, heavy, designed to shock the system rather than bruise the face that the world would soon worship. "I. Am. Not. Paying. For. Tantrums," he said coldly. With practiced indifference, he grabbed her by the back of the neck and dunked her face straight down into the ice-filled bucket of water kept beside the console. The shock tore the breath from her lungs. When he pulled her back up, gasping and shivering, he offered no towel, only a command. "Sing." She took a ragged, desperate breath, swallowed the panic clawing at her throat, and sang. Her pitch was flawless. Her tone was haunting. And that was how Aradhya Kashyap recorded her first song.

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