The room seemed to shrink around them—the air heavy, the salt of tears still wet on Poornima’s cheeks. Veeresh’s fingers were iron on her wrist as he yanked her back, the force jolting her forward.

“Dare you leave this place?” he snarled, close enough that she could smell the faint spiced cologne at his throat. “You think you can walk away? I’ll bring another woman in front of you—parade her in these halls—and you’ll see what I do. You’re nothing but a footnote if you walk out that door.”

Poornima’s breath hitched. For a second the old, small, frightened girl flared up inside her. Then something steadied—a quiet, weary courage.

“I’m already free from this relationship,” she said, voice low but steady, each word deliberate. “Do what you want.”

His grip tightened. “If you leave, I’ll ruin everything you’ve built. Your chain of restaurants—gone. One phone call, and your hotels, your licenses… everything disappears.” The threat was brutal, business-precise. He leaned in, eyes hard as flint. “Think carefully. This is my world, Poornima. You don’t walk out of it.”

For a heartbeat she looked as if she might collapse. Then she drew in a slow, shaking breath and met his stare without flinching.

“So you’ll use my life as a chess piece,” she whispered. “Threaten my work, my people… for what? Pride? Punishment?” Her voice cracked, but she forced the words out. “You can take everything, Veeresh—and you can try to break me with it. But I am not the scared child who needs your permission to survive.”

He barked a laugh that had no humor. “Arrogant,” he spat. “You always were.”

Poornima’s hand slid from his wrist. She didn’t pull away in fear—she stepped back and squared her shoulders. “Do what you have to do. But know this: I didn’t build my life on your mercy. If you destroy what I’ve worked for, I will rise again. Not because I asked you to save me, but because I won’t be punished for daring to live.”

Silence fell like a curtain. He stared at her—anger skittering with something else, something raw and unguarded—and for the first time his jaw trembled as if he was measuring his own cruelty.

“Think about your people,” she added quietly. “My staff, my team—don’t use them to hurt me. If your pride needs fuel, take me. Don’t drag others into your war.”

Veeresh’s eyes flickered to the floor, then away. He released a breath that might have been a laugh, might have been a curse. “This isn’t over,” he said grimly. “You have twenty-four hours.”

She watched him go, the echo of his footsteps swallowing the last of the night. When the door closed, Poornima sank onto the bed, not from defeat but from exhaustion—every promise and threat had hollowed her out, and yet beneath the hurt there was a stubborn ember that refused to die.

Outside the room, the palace slept. Inside, two worlds colliding left smoldering embers and questions no one was ready to answer.