The pale, sickly morning light filtered through the heavy wrought-iron bars of the guest suite's balcony, casting elongated shadows across the sprawling, immaculate bed. At precisely six o'clock, the door clicked open. Ahaan stepped into the room, his movements silent and predatory, carrying the easy authority of an executioner checking on his charge.

Aradhya woke with a violent, full-body flinch, her eyes flying open to a world that spun wildly on a sickening axis. The residual chemicals of the high-potency sedative were still clawing at her brain, turning her thoughts into thick, heavy sludge while a splitting, blinding migraine hammered behind her temples. The nausea hit her like a physical blow—hot, violent, and immediate.