Veeresh stormed into the palace, his temper boiling. He caught Poornima just as she was hurrying toward her room, tears glistening in her eyes.

“How dare you slap me?” his voice thundered, reverberating through the marble halls. “Do you know what rights give you that power? You dared to raise your hand on me—a king? You are not even royal blood, Poornima!”

The words pierced deeper than any wound.

Poornima froze, her face drained of all color. His cruel reminder shattered what little strength she had been clinging to. With trembling lips, she whispered, “You didn’t need to remind me. I’ve lived with that truth my whole life.”

Her eyes, glistening with silent hurt, met his one last time before she turned and walked away—her steps heavy, her heart breaking with every stride. She shut the door to her room and collapsed, her sobs echoing against the walls. For the first time, she felt completely hollow.

Hours later, Veeresh returned, his anger dulled but not gone. He was met by his mother, Sharada, and his father, Abhimanyu, waiting in the hall.

“What happened, Veeresh?” Sharada asked, concern in her eyes.

Veeresh’s jaw tightened. “She dared to humiliate me. I only told her the truth—she is not royal blood.”

Before his words even settled, Abhimanyu’s palm struck his cheek in a sharp slap. The sound rang louder than Poornima’s had.

“How dare you?” Abhimanyu’s voice roared. “How dare you humiliate your wife like that? Is this the respect you give to the woman we accepted as our daughter?”

Veeresh’s eyes widened, his hand instinctively rising to his stinging cheek. “Father—what wrong did I say? She is not—”

Sharada’s voice cut in, trembling with fury. “Enough, Veeresh! We know you both fight like enemies, but that doesn’t give you the right to break her heart like this. Blood doesn’t define family—acceptance does. We accepted Poornima wholeheartedly. As our bahu. As our daughter.”

Abhimanyu’s gaze was stern, unrelenting. “And if you can’t understand that, you don’t deserve her.”

Veeresh’s chest tightened. For the first time in years, the king—the don, the businessman—was silent, his parents’ words echoing louder than his own pride.