Prologue:
The smell of burning rubber and metallic blood always lingered in the back of Shivika’s throat whenever the night grew too quiet.
She stared at the blank canvas in her dimly lit art studio, charcoal staining her fingertips. To the world, she was Shivika—an aspiring model with a flawless face and a distant, cold smile, trying to carve a name for herself in the glitz of the industry. But to the blank pages of her secret notebooks, she was a creator of worlds, escaping her broken reality through fantasy writing.
She was shattered. A past love had left her heart in ruins, teaching her to fear the very word. And then, the universe had decided to strip away what little anchor she had left. A rainy night. A sudden brake failure. A plunging car. Her parents were gone, buried alongside the answers to a car accident that felt far too calculated to be a mere twist of fate.
Two blocks away, inside a darkened SUV, a glowing laptop screen illuminated the sharp, striking features of Samarthya.As the Head of the CBI, his name struck terror into the hearts of criminals. He was ruthless, calculating, and unyielding. But looking at the live surveillance feed of Shivika’s studio on his screen, his eyes softened into an expression of raw, agonizing worship.
He loved her. He had loved her since they were children playing in the same courtyards. To Samarthya, Shivika wasn’t just the girl he was arranged to marry by a pact their parents made before their passing—she was his goddess. A deity he protected from the shadows, never daring to step into her light because he knew the darkness of his world would only stain her further.
‘Let them think the case is closed, sir,’ his deputy’s voice echoed from a recent briefing. ‘The local police ruled it an accident.’
Samarthya’s grip tightened on the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. Let the world think what it wanted. In the secret files locked in his private vault, the investigation was just beginning. Whoever had touched her family, whoever had made his goddess bleed tears of grief, would face a wrath worse than death.
He looked back up at her window. She was trembling, holding a pen, lost in her fictional escape.
"Soon, Shivika," Samarthya whispered into the empty car, his voice a sacred vow. "I will piece you back together. And I will burn the world that dared to break you."
