DUBAI

A storm raged in his chest, but his face remained unreadable.

ADVIK RAJAN REDDY stood before the full-length glass wall of his Dubai high-rise, but his mind was far from the glittering city. He was watching surveillance — a silent recording of a girl dancing under the morning sun.

His fingers clenched the glass of untouched whiskey. Behind him, armed guards stood still, waiting for orders. None spoke unless asked. None dared.

“She’s grown,” he said, more to himself than anyone else. “Graceful. Peaceful.”

A long silence passed. He turned away from the screen.

“She doesn’t know who she belongs to,” he said, placing the glass of whiskey untouched on the table.

“But soon, she will.”

Advik was the only son of DEVRAJ RAJAN REDDY AND SULOCHANA REDDY, once royals in Rayalaseema's underworld. After his father’s assassination during a territory war, young Advik had been pulled drenched in blood. He was respected, feared, and untouchable.

At sixteen, he was already feared. At twenty-two, he’d built the RR Empire — feared in entire Asia.

But in the shadows of that empire stood one secret he never let anyone touch — Ishaani.

He had watched her from afar, letting her grow up safe, away from the madness of their world. She didn’t know about the blood pact that had tied their fates together since birth. She didn’t know her brother was his best friend.She didn’t know she was engaged— promised to him by oath and blood.

But there was one person he could never refuse — his mother.

Behind him, the door opened, and SULOCHANA AMMA entered — elegant, composed, wrapped in deep red silk. Her presence softened the air instantly.

Seeing her he dismissed the guards. They left bowing to him

“She’s beautiful,” she said quietly, looking at the paused footage of Ishaani.

“She doesn’t know, does she?”

“No,” Advik replied, his voice hardening.

“Not yet. Aryan says she’s… gentle. I waited, Ma. I gave her years.”

Sulochana walked closer, placing her hand on his cheek— a rare gesture that only she was allowed. “And now?”

“She turns twenty-three in ten days,” he said, stepping back. “I’m not waiting anymore.”

“You’ll bring her home?” his mother asked softly.

“She is mine,” Advik said. “Always has been

“Does she even know who you are?”

“No,” he said. “And that’s about to change.”

“You’re not just claiming your bride, Advik,” she said quietly.

“You’re walking into her world. Don’t destroy her.”

His jaw tightened. “I won’t. But I will take her. She belongs with me.”

Outside, the sky began to shift — clouds gathering over Dubai. A storm was coming.

And it had a name.

ADVIK RAJAN REDDY.

______________________________

HYDERABAD

The golden morning sunlight filtered through the open courtyard of the Iyer ancestral haveli, painting soft patterns on the cool, red-stone floors. The rhythmic chime of anklets echoed gently across the air as Ishaani Vennela Iyer twirled, completing the final pose of her Bharatanatyam performance. Draped in a violet cotton saree, her silhouette was grace carved from tradition, her long braid adorned with fresh jasmine swaying behind her.The entire courtyard seemed to pause, enchanted.

Sitting under the shade of the neem tree, her grandfather, RAGHUNATHA IYER, watched with narrowed but warm eyes. Though the underworld knew him as a dreadful mafia leader and world knew him as a sharp businessman — the patriarch of the Iyer dynasty — to Ishaani, he was Thatha (Grandfather), the man who brought her laddoos after every performance, the one who scolded others if they raised their voice around his "Vennela."

"You have your grandmother's rhythm," he murmured, breaking into a rare, tender smile.

"She too used to dance like the monsoon breeze. Soft, sudden, and unforgettable."

Ishaani dropped into a sitting posture and crawled toward him like a child, resting her head on his knee.

"Then I must have inherited her mischief too, hmm?"

He chuckled.

"That you did, kanna. That you did."

From behind the stone pillars, ARYAN IYER, her elder brother and CEO of Iyer Industries, watched with a fond smile. In a white kurta and gold-framed glasses, he looked every bit the poised businessman.

To the world, he's a visionary businessman. But here, in the haven of jasmine and coconut trees, he was just Anna (elder brother)— her shield, her friend, her father-figure all rolled into one.

But Aryan is far more dangerous than she could ever imagine. Beneath the suits and smiles lies a powerful mafia figure — one of the silent partners of the RR Empire, and the blood brother of Advik Rajan Reddy - the man his sister was betrothed to.

She doesn’t know that her entire life is a beautifully crafted lie.But only he knew how much effort it took to keep Ishaani’s world so peaceful… and so blind to the truth.

He sat beside her, pulling her braid teasingly. “Late for class again, Miss Vennela?”

She swatted his arm. “Because someone forgot to wake me. I told you to knock on my door!”

He laughed, warm and casual. “What would you do without me?”

“I’d probably dance in peace,” she replied with a mock glare, and everyone around them chuckled.

Behind them, MAHADEVAN IYER — her uncle — and his wife SHARVANI smiled as they watched the siblings. Though not her biological parents, they had raised Ishaani as their own ever since tragedy had struck the Iyers over two decades ago.

The official story was a car accident.

The truth — a mafia hit gone wrong, blood spilled in silence.

Ishaani never knew. She wasn’t meant to.

And then there was ARJUN IYER,her ninteen-year-old younger brother — bookish, shy, and always trailing behind Ishaani like a curious puppy. Since childhood she adored him, protected him, and spoiled him — just as she had been spoiled by them all.

“Akka(elder sister), did you see my– oh. You’re dancing again.”

“Someday you’ll appreciate art, kanna,” she teased, pinching his cheek.

“And someday you’ll stop pinching mine,” he replied, dodging her with a grin.

In the background, ANUPAMA AUNTY, their ever-watchful maid and caretaker, brought out steaming steel tumblers of filter coffee. She had been with the family for over three decades, and for Ishaani, she was more than a servant. She was a second mother, one who knew when to bring warmth and when to quietly retreat.

“Drink this before your class, ma,” Anupama said, placing the tumbler in her hand.

“It’ll keep your head cool when the professor goes on about Shakespeare again.”

Ishaani laughed. “Even he can’t ruin filter coffee.”

“Always knew how to win people’s hearts. Just like your mother,” she murmured, brushing a strand of hair from her forehead.

Ishaani smiled at the mention, not knowing the weight behind those words.

As laughter echoed through the haveli, no one noticed Aryan’s phone vibrating quietly in his pocket. One glance at the message drained the color from his face.

He’s coming. Be ready.

Aryan’s hand tightened around the phone. He looked at Ishaani, still laughing with Arjun and sipping coffee, her world untouched.

She had no idea her time was running out. And in ten days, on her twenty-third birthday, those secrets would shatter her world.