Thaniska Sharma’s (POV)

I never knew that a single text could change my life forever.

Not just change it—completely shatter everything I had planned.

Today was my wedding day. As I climbed each step towards the mandap, the weight of my destiny pressed down on my shoulders. My soon-to-be husband, Rukesh Rao, sat waiting for me, his expression unreadable. This wasn’t a love marriage, nor a fairytale romance. This was a business deal, a carefully arranged union meant to solidify an empire.

Love had never interested me. Power did.

My father, Ravindra Sharma, the most powerful businessman in Andhra, was my idol. He built his empire with blood, sweat, and an iron will, never bowing to failure. And I was his daughter—his legacy.

So, it didn’t matter whether this marriage was forced upon me or not.

All I cared about was power.

All I wanted was honor.

But one single mistake—one moment of weakness—set off a chain of events I had always feared.

I was seconds away from sealing my fate, sitting beside Rukesh as the priest chanted mantras, when it happened.

A thunderous roar echoed through the venue.

Engines.

Before anyone could react, a fleet of black Thar SUVs crashed into the wedding, their menacing presence sending a chill through the crowd. But it was the final car that stilled the air—a sleek, black Rolls-Royce, its polished exterior gleaming under the sunlight.

The guards immediately sprang into action, moving to form a protective barrier.

Then the doors of the Thars swung open.

Men in black suits emerged like shadows, surrounding us in mere seconds.

Not a single shot was fired. They didn’t need to. With precision and force, they subdued our guards, locking them in tight holds without so much as breaking a sweat.

I shot to my feet, rage burning through me like wildfire.

"Who the hell are you people?" My voice sliced through the tension.

I turned to my father. "Nana, call the police. Now."

He shook his head, his expression dark. "Thaniska… they’ve jammed the signals."

My hands clenched into fists.

Who dares to interrupt my wedding?

My gaze snapped to the suited men, their faces devoid of emotion. "Where is your boss?" I demanded. "What business do we have with him?"

Silence.

No response. No movement.

A cruel smirk tugged at my lips. "What a coward," I spat. "Can’t even show his face and sends his men to do his dirty work."

I turned to my father. "*Nana*, could they be from Yeshveer Group? He’s the only one who plays such filthy games."

Nana exhaled, rubbing his temples. "No, Thaniska. Yeshveer might be a snake, but he doesn’t have the guts to pull something like this."

I scowled. If not Yeshveer, then who?

Before I could take a step forward, the door to the Rolls-Royce finally opened.

A heavy silence settled over the crowd, as if the very air had frozen in anticipation.

The first thing I saw was a gleaming black shoe stepping onto the ground.

Then, he stepped out.

Tall. Towering.

Dressed in a jet-black shirt and fitted trousers that clung to his sharp frame, his presence was like a storm brewing on the horizon—dangerous, dark, and unavoidable. His neatly combed hair, sharp jawline, and perfectly trimmed beard only added to the raw power he exuded.

But it wasn’t just his looks that made the world pause.

It was the way he moved.

Effortless. Confident. As if the very earth belonged to him.

A cigar rested between his lips, and as he exhaled, thick smoke curled around his face, making his features appear even more enigmatic. When he shut the car door behind him, the platinum bracelet on his wrist jingled softly—a sound so faint, yet commanding everyone’s attention.

I had never seen a man carry such dominance before.

Nana stepped forward, placing himself between me and the stranger. But the man didn’t even glance at him.

As if my father—the most feared businessman in Andhra—was invisible.

His footsteps were slow, yet firm. Measured. Every step sent a wave of unease through me.

And then, he stopped.

Right in front of me.

A chill ran down my spine. I had never felt this way before.

Before I could open my mouth, Rukesh shot up from beside me, stepping protectively between us.

"Who the hell are you?" Rukesh growled, pressing a hand to his chest. "Back off from my wife."

The man’s gaze finally flickered towards him.

And then—**he moved.**

No weapon. No force. Just his palm.

And in the next second—**Rukesh was on the floor.**

Unconscious.

I didn’t even see what happened.

One second he was standing, the next, he was lying motionless.

A sharp gasp rippled through the crowd.

The man exhaled another puff of smoke before finally speaking.

"Wife?" His voice was deep, slow, and edged with danger.

He turned his head slightly towards me, his gaze burning through my soul.

"She is mine."

His words made my breath hitch.

"And what belongs to me… is never meant for others."

My throat dried. My mind screamed at me to fight back, to demand answers, but—**I couldn’t speak.**

I couldn’t move.

"Who the hell are you?" I finally managed, though my voice trembled.

He leaned in, his breath warm against my ear.

His next words sent a shiver down my spine.

"Me?" His voice dropped to a whisper, slow and deliberate.

"I’m your lover."

"The one you love."

My entire body froze.

And then—**it hit me.**

Memories flashed through my mind. The past. My choices. My mistakes

Oh, God.

What have I done?

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