PROLOGUE

Rain painted the city in silver streaks, soft but relentless, as if the sky itself refused to stop remembering something the world had forgotten. From the highest tower in the skyline, a single light glowed against the darkness.

Inside, Aarna Kothari stood with the stillness of someone who had mastered silence long before she mastered power.

That was the name people knew.

Simple. Ordinary. Forgettable.

Behind it lived layers of truth the world never touched.

A childhood cut short by the sudden death of her parents.

A home that turned into a battlefield in the hands of relatives who treated her like a burden instead of blood.

Years of bruises, insults, and loneliness carved her into something sharp—something cold.

She learned early:

Love was a weakness.

Family was lie.

And trust was a luxury she could never afford.

But none of this was for the world to know.

All they saw was the woman she had built from her own ruins—controlled, emotionless, someone the shadows obeyed without question.

Not the Queen.

Not the owner of the vast empire she ruled.

Just a powerful figure known in certain circles as someone you never wanted to cross.

Tonight was supposed to be simple.

A threat had been taken.

A lesson was to be taught.

A soft knock came.

"Ma'am," Devansh— her right hand said, voice steady, "the target is here."

Aarna didn't blink.

Didn't react.

She simply walked, each step silent, measured, rhythmic— like she owned every shadow she passed through.

When she opened the door to the interrogation room, she paused.

The man tied to the chair wasn’t the one she ordered.

Her eyes didn’t widen—she didn’t reveal emotion. But a flicker of calculation crossed her expression, sharp and cold.

Another mistake.

Another error she’d have to clean up.

The man lifted his head slowly, confusion and fear clashing in his eyes.

Krishiv Khatri.

A hardworking employee in Ridhaan Mittal’s company.

A man who carried his family on his shoulders.

Someone far from luxury but nowhere near poverty—someone who lived in a warm, modest apartment with a mother and a younger sister who depended on him.

Innocent.

He wasn’t supposed to be here.

Aarna’s voice cut through the air, low and controlled.

“He’s not the one.”

Her right-hand froze.

Her men straightened.

But Krishiv..... he stared at her.

Not because he recognised her.

But because he saw the authority wrapped around her— dangerous, effortless, terrifying.

He understood one thing instantly:

She wasn't normal. She was Mafia.

Not a foot soldier.

Not a pawn.

Someone powerful.

Aarna dismissed her guards with a single cold nod, then stepped closer—not threatening, just assessing.

“You weren’t the target,” she said, voice flat.

“You don’t belong here.”

His breath shook.

“And you’re letting me go?” he whispered, unsure if it was hope or disbelief.

Her expression didn’t change.

"Don't you want to go." Stated simply without emotions.

"Leave. Forget this place. Forget what you saw today."

He nodded—because what else could he do?

He didn’t know her real name.

He didn’t know her position.

He didn’t know the dark crown that sat on her hidden identity.

He only knew the cold in her eyes.

The power in her silence.

The mercy she didn’t owe him.

And as he stumbled out, heart hammering, he didn’t realize his life had just tangled with hers in a way neither of them could escape.

___

Two lives moving in opposite directions.

Two souls shaped by opposite worlds.

Yet fate was already twisting their paths together.

Not gently.

Not romantically.

But violently—through a mistake that would reveal a face never meant to be seen.

When a cold queen built from shadows meets a man who still believes in love…

The story doesn’t begin with trust.

It begins with fear.

And a secret that should have stayed buried.

But destinies collide—even when they shouldn’t.

And this time… neither of them will walk away

unchanged.

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