Chapter 20

Chapter 20
Threads of the Trap

The evening descended over the city like a slow, heavy mist. Neon lights blinked to life, traffic honked impatiently, and the world rushed on, unaware that somewhere in the tangled web of power and shadows, a predator was setting his snare.

Abhimaan sat alone in his study, a glass of dark whiskey untouched beside him, fingers steepled under his chin.

The massive room — all dark mahogany and sharp edges — seemed to vibrate with the tension crackling off him.

He should be celebrating.

Another deal had closed that afternoon. A massive plot of land — one that would soon bear the gleaming towers of his new empire — was now legally under his name.

Competitors whispered his name with fear.

Bureaucrats bent the rules before he even asked.

He had it all.

And yet —
he didn’t have her.

Vedika Sharma.

The one woman who refused to bend.
The one who, with her soft defiance and fierce spirit, made the world he had conquered feel like nothing but a hollow shell.

His phone buzzed once.
A message.
From his man — Aadesh.

Sir, her schedule has been traced. She volunteers at the orphanage every Wednesday. Has court trials for two pending cases. Also, a friend from SP office — Pranav Singh — often seen with her.

Abhimaan’s jaw tightened at the last sentence.
Pranav Singh.
Always hovering around her like a damn savior.

A surge of violent jealousy clawed up his throat.

He crushed the glass in his hand without realizing it, shards slicing into his skin. Blood dripped onto the papers below — contracts worth crores, meaningless compared to the storm inside him.

If Vedika wouldn’t see sense, he would force her to.

He had spared her so far.
But mercy had limits.

The decision was simple.
Terrible.
Inevitable.

He would strip away her defenses one by one, until there was nowhere left for her to run.

Until the only place she could turn... was toward him.

Across the city, Vedika flipped through a case file, sitting cross-legged on her bed. The hum of the ceiling fan above was the only sound breaking the silence of the small room.

Kabir sat nearby, doing his schoolwork, occasionally glancing at her with worried eyes.

"You okay, Di?" he asked quietly.

Vedika smiled — a small, tired smile — and reached out to ruffle his hair.
"I’m fine, Kabir. Just a little tired."

Her mother, Shanta Sharma, walked in carrying a tray of warm milk and some dry fruits.

"You push yourself too hard," her mother said, setting the tray down. "Even warriors need rest."

Vedika laughed softly, the sound thin but real.

"I’ll rest, Maa. Soon. Once I finish what I started."

Shanta’s eyes — full of love and fear — lingered on her daughter’s face.
"You have a fire inside you, Vedika," she said softly. "But don’t let it burn you down."

Vedika reached out and squeezed her mother’s hand.
"I won’t, Maa. I promise."

Later, when Kabir and her mother had gone to sleep, Vedika sat by the window, staring at the stars sprinkled across the night sky.

She thought about the children at the orphanage — their laughter, their dreams.

She thought about Pranav, his quiet support that anchored her when she felt like crumbling.

And somewhere at the edge of her mind, unwelcome and persistent, she thought about him.

Abhimaan Rathod.

The man whose presence coiled like smoke in her lungs.
The man whose dark gaze haunted her even when she closed her eyes.

She shivered slightly, wrapping her shawl tighter around her shoulders.

She didn’t know that while she looked up at the stars, a different kind of darkness was already creeping closer.

The next morning, Vedika walked into the courthouse, case files clutched against her chest, her mind focused.

She didn’t notice the way two men across the street subtly watched her.
Didn’t notice the black SUV parked a little too long at the corner.
Didn’t notice that the world around her — safe and predictable — was starting to tilt.

Inside the building, she spotted Pranav waiting near the stairwell.

"Ready for the hearing?" he asked, offering her a smile.

Vedika nodded. "Always."

They started walking toward the courtroom when a messenger approached her, holding out an envelope.

"For you, ma’am."

Vedika frowned, accepting it cautiously. There was no sender’s name.

As Pranav watched, Vedika opened it.

Inside was a single sheet of paper, with a message typed in clean, brutal letters:

"The closer you get to the fire, the faster you burn.
Walk away, Vedika. Before it’s too late."

Her fingers curled into fists around the paper, fury and fear clashing inside her.

Pranav gently took the paper from her hand, reading it, his expression hardening.

"Vedika," he said carefully, "this could be a threat."

Vedika met his gaze squarely. "I know."

"Do you want to file a report?"

She hesitated.

Every instinct screamed caution — to step back, to protect her family, to save herself.

But she thought of Aman’s crooked drawing.
She thought of the innocent victims she had promised to fight for.

She straightened her spine.

"No," she said softly but firmly. "I won’t be scared into silence."

Pranav studied her for a long moment, then nodded grimly.
"Then I’m with you. Whatever happens."

Unseen by them, hidden in the shadows beyond the marble pillars, Abhimaan watched.

His expression was unreadable.
His fists clenched by his sides.

She was stronger than he thought.
More stubborn.

Good.

He didn’t want to break a fragile doll.
He wanted to shatter a warrior.

And Vedika Sharma — whether she knew it or not — had already stepped into the center of his trap.

There would be no walking away now.

For either of them.

The courthouse felt colder that afternoon.

The marble floors that once echoed with the steady steps of justice now seemed to mock Vedika with their emptiness. She tucked the warning letter deeper into her file, forcing herself to stay composed as she made her way down the main corridor.

Pranav kept close, his gaze sweeping the crowd with the sharp instinct of a man trained to expect danger.
Vedika appreciated it — but part of her knew:
This battle was hers alone to fight.

"You sure you don’t want extra security?" he asked quietly.

Vedika shook her head.
"I can’t live my life looking over my shoulder, Pranav. If I do that… they win."

Pranav hesitated, then sighed.
"You’re braver than you should be."

She smiled faintly.
"Or just more stubborn."

They parted ways at the staircase. Vedika headed towards the legal aid center to review some documents.
Pranav promised he would check on her after finishing a call with headquarters.

The hallways grew quieter as Vedika turned a corner.

It was there — at the mouth of an abandoned corridor — that she felt it.

A presence.

Heavy. Electric. Dark.

She didn’t have to turn to know who it was.

Abhimaan Rathod.

Slowly, she faced him.

He stood a few feet away, dressed in a tailored black suit, a storm in human form.
His eyes — dark as obsidian — bore into her like twin blades.

Vedika tightened her grip on her files. She refused to show fear.

He stepped closer.
Deliberate. Predatory.

"You really don’t learn, do you?" His voice was a low growl, deceptively calm.

Vedika lifted her chin.
"I could say the same to you. Still obsessed with winning battles that don’t matter."

A muscle in Abhimaan’s jaw twitched.

"You think you’re fighting for something noble. Justice. Honor." He chuckled, the sound hollow. "But you’re just a pawn, Vedika. In a game you don’t even understand."

"I understand enough," she said coldly.

He moved even closer — close enough that she could feel the heat radiating off him, smell the faint hint of expensive cologne and something darker underneath.

"You should have walked away when you had the chance," he murmured.
"There won’t be another warning."

Vedika stood her ground, though her heart hammered against her ribs.

"You don’t scare me."

"You should be scared," Abhimaan said, voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.
"Because now… I’m done playing."

Without waiting for a response, he reached into the inner pocket of his jacket and pulled out a sleek black envelope.

He tossed it at her feet.

Vedika flinched as it landed near her shoes.

"What’s this?" she asked, not bending to pick it up.

"Evidence," he said smoothly. "Of how easily your world can fall apart."

Vedika’s stomach twisted.

"You’re a coward," she said, voice shaking with restrained rage. "Hiding behind threats."

"No," Abhimaan said, stepping back into the shadows.
"I’m a realist."

Then, before she could respond, he turned and walked away — leaving only the heavy weight of his presence behind.

Vedika bent down and picked up the envelope with trembling fingers.

Inside were photographs.

Photographs of her mother. Her brother. Her house.
Shots taken from a distance, blurry but unmistakable.

You’re being watched.

That was the message.

And the cost of defiance.

Vedika gripped the photos, her nails digging into the glossy paper.

For a second, fear tried to break her.

But it didn’t succeed.

Instead, a colder fire lit in her eyes.

She would not bow.
Not to him.
Not to anyone.

Later that evening, Vedika visited the orphanage again.

She needed the peace.
The grounding.

The children rushed at her as always, wrapping tiny arms around her legs, babbling about their day.

Vedika knelt down, hugging them tightly, blinking away the tears that threatened to fall.

"Di, why you sad?" Aman asked, tilting his little head.

"I’m not sad," Vedika lied gently.
"I’m just happy to see you."

He beamed and tugged her hand. "Come! We made a new painting!"

Vedika allowed herself to be dragged inside, letting their innocent chatter soothe the jagged edges inside her heart.

Outside the orphanage gates, hidden in the darkness, Abhimaan watched again.

But this time, it wasn’t amusement that darkened his gaze.
It was something heavier.
Darker.

Possession.

He couldn’t stand the idea of anyone else holding her hand.
Anyone else making her smile.

She should be his.

Only his.

And if she refused?

Then he would break her.

Tame her.

Chain her to him until the only world she knew was the one he gave her.

With grim finality, he dialed a number on his burner phone.

Aadesh answered immediately.

"Sir?"

"Prepare everything," Abhimaan said, his voice like ice.
"I’m done waiting."