Chapter 54– The Truth Wrapped in Hate

Chapter 54– The Truth Wrapped in Hate
 Aanya’s POV

The ropes burned against my wrists. I’d been trying to wriggle free for hours, but they were tight, and my hands had long since gone numb. My legs were tied too, and the cold floor beneath me seemed to be leeching every ounce of warmth from my body.

The room smelled of damp concrete. Somewhere above, water dripped rhythmically—each drop echoing in the silence, like a cruel clock reminding me of the hours passing without Raaz finding me.

I pulled in a shaky breath and tried not to sob. My chest hurt from holding it in, but I knew if I let go, my cries would only make things worse.

The door creaked.

I froze.

Kartik stepped in, the dim light casting his shadow across the floor. His smile wasn’t really a smile—it was the kind of expression that made the air in the room feel thinner.

“Looks like your husband is coming,” he said, leaning casually against the wall as if we were having a friendly conversation. “But let me tell you a secret—he’s not going to succeed.”

Something in me snapped. My voice was raw, trembling, but I shouted anyway. “Why are you doing this? What did I ever do to you?”

The words hadn’t even finished leaving my mouth before his hand cracked across my face. The sting was immediate, hot tears springing to my eyes—not from the pain, but from the humiliation.

“Don’t shout at me,” he said coldly. “You don’t get to speak to me like that.”

I turned my face away, tasting blood on my lip. My tears came harder now, spilling down my cheeks no matter how much I tried to hold them back.

He crouched down so we were eye level. “You want to know why?” His voice was low, almost mocking. “You want to know the real reason?”

I didn’t answer, but he continued anyway, his tone shifting to something darker, heavier.

“Raaz was born to a maid. My father’s maid.” His eyes narrowed, as if the words themselves were poison. “She worked in our mansion. Lived there. My mother—she wasn’t a saint either. But when Raaz’s mother… got involved with my father, everything changed.”

I stared at him, my breath coming unevenly. I hadn’t known much about Raaz’s childhood—he never talked about it—but hearing Kartik’s words made my heart clench.

“When Raaz was born,” Kartik went on, “he was an illegitimate child. My father didn’t want him. He didn’t care. He threw that woman and her newborn out into the streets like they were nothing.”

I swallowed hard, picturing a small boy with Raaz’s dark eyes, standing in the rain, clutching his mother’s hand.

“My mother found out about my father’s affair,” Kartik continued, his voice tightening. “She broke. Completely. You know what it’s like watching your mother crumble in front of you? Watching her eyes go empty because of someone else’s betrayal?”

His breathing had grown sharper now, his anger no longer just for Raaz, but for memories he couldn’t erase.

“From that day,” he said, leaning closer until I could feel his breath, “I hated him. I hated Raaz. He became the living reminder of my father’s betrayal. Every success he had, every time someone called him strong or respected him—it was like they were praising the thing that ruined my family.”

My voice shook as I whispered, “But that wasn’t his fault.”

Kartik’s eyes flashed. “It doesn’t matter. In this world, fault doesn’t erase consequences. And now, I’m going to finish it. I’ll take away the one thing that matters to him—you. When you’re gone, he’ll finally know what it feels like to lose everything.”

A cold wave of fear settled over me. It wasn’t just about revenge for him—it was obsession. Years of hate had shaped him into someone who couldn’t see reason.

I thought of Raaz—his arms around me, the way his voice softened when he called me jaan. And then I thought of him out there, probably tearing apart the city to find me.

“You won’t win,” I said, even though my voice was barely a whisper. “He’ll come for me.”

Kartik smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Let him. The more desperate he is, the more satisfying it will be when he fails.”

He stood and walked toward the door, leaving me shaking and tied to the chair. As the lock clicked behind him, my tears finally spilled unchecked. But somewhere beneath the fear, a spark remained—a stubborn belief that Raaz wouldn’t stop until he found me.

I just had to hold on long enough.

First Person – Raaz

The glass in my hand cracked before I realized I’d been gripping it too hard. Whiskey spilled over my knuckles and dripped onto the desk, but I didn’t care. My entire body was running on a single thing—rage.

Three days.

Three days since I’d last seen my jaan. Three days since Kartik dared to touch what was mine. My men were turning the city upside down, every informant squeezed for answers, every contact bribed or threatened, yet it felt like I was still no closer to her.

Yash lay in a hospital bed because of this. My house had been breached because of this. And my Aanya… God only knew what she was enduring.

I pushed away from the desk and paced, my chest tight. The walls of my study felt like they were closing in. If I stayed here any longer without movement, without progress, I’d explode.

The phone on my desk buzzed.

I snatched it up. “Raaz.”

“Boss,” one of my men said, breathless, “we might have something. A sighting—just outside the outskirts, near an abandoned textile warehouse.”

My grip on the phone tightened. “Details. Now.”

“She was seen with Kartik’s men—two of them, heavy build, matching the description from the last incident. They were moving toward the eastern district, into the old industrial zone. One of our watchers followed for a bit before they disappeared into a gated property. No one’s been using that area for years.”

I didn’t waste time. “Gear up. We move in ten minutes. No mistakes this time.”

“Understood.”

I hung up and strode out of the study, my blood roaring in my ears. My mind was already working through every angle—how to get in, where they might keep her, how to make sure Kartik never walked out again.

Aanya’s POV

The ropes around my wrists were beginning to cut into my skin. I’d lost track of how many hours I’d been sitting in this chair, the stale air pressing down on me. Every creak in the walls made me flinch, every sound in the distance made me hope it was Raaz.

But it never was.

Kartik had been gone for a while now, leaving two of his men outside the room. Their muffled voices drifted in occasionally—laughing, swearing, complaining about the cold. I strained to catch anything useful, but they weren’t careless enough to say where we were.

My heart felt like it was breaking in slow motion. I didn’t care about myself as much anymore. What kept stabbing me was the thought of Raaz not knowing if I was alive or dead.

Raaz’s POV

The convoy moved fast, engines roaring as we cut through the winding industrial roads. My men were silent, their focus absolute.

As we neared the outskirts, the buildings grew older, rust eating away at metal shutters, graffiti staining the walls. It was the kind of place that smelled of forgotten deals and buried bodies.

“Boss,” my driver said quietly, “two blocks down on the left.”

I signaled for the cars to slow. My eyes scanned the surroundings—high chain-link fences, broken windows, and the faint glow of a light deep inside one of the larger warehouses.

My heart rate spiked.

We rolled to a stop in the shadows. I stepped out first, the cold air biting at my face. “Positions,” I ordered. “I want every exit covered. No one leaves.”

“Yes, Boss.”

Guns were checked. Footsteps softened as my men spread out, becoming part of the darkness. I moved toward the side entrance, my mind already picturing her face, the way her eyes would light up when she saw me. That image was the only thing keeping the fury in my veins from burning me alive.

Aanya’s POV

The sound of footsteps outside the door made my pulse jump. I sat rigid, my breath shallow.

The door handle turned, but it didn’t open. Instead, I heard a key being used on the lock. My hands clenched into fists. Was it him?

Raaz’s POV

We breached fast—door hinges splintering, my men pouring in. But the moment I stepped into the warehouse, I knew something was wrong.

It was too quiet.

And then I saw it.

Not Aanya. No sign of her. Just three of Kartik’s men tied to chairs in the center of the room, their faces twisted into mocking smiles.

My vision tunneled.

“Where is she?” I roared, grabbing the nearest man by the throat and slamming him against the wall.

He spat blood and laughed. “Too late, Singh. You were always too late.”

My hand tightened around his throat. “Where. Is. She.”

He only smirked. “Closer than you think.”

Aanya’s POV

The door opened at last, but it wasn’t Raaz.

It was Kartik.

He stepped inside with the same smug expression, as if this was all part of a game only he knew the rules to.

“Your husband’s looking for you,” he said almost cheerfully. “But here’s the thing—he’s exactly where I want him to be. And you… you’re exactly where he can’t reach you.”

My stomach knotted. “PLEASE STOP THIS?”

He just leaned closer, the malice in his eyes unmistakable. “Because now, Raaz Singh will finally feel powerless. The way I’ve felt my entire life.”