The roar of the private jet landing at Mumbai airport was drowned out only by the storm inside Veeresh Deewan.

He had finally landed. Africa was behind him, the syndicate meeting done. And then — the messages. The missed alerts flashing on his phone:

“Simon Roy proposed to Poornima Chowdary. Engagement in two days.”

Veeresh’s blood ran cold — and then hot.

A dangerous fire ignited in his chest, spreading through every vein.

“Drive. Now,” he ordered, his voice sharper than any blade, to his driver.

The car tore through the streets of Mumbai, black as night, with Veeresh sitting in the back — eyes cold, jaw tight, mind calculating every possible way to claim what was his.

At the Chowdary mansion, chaos had already started. Simon Roy, the so-called hero of Europe, had been boasting, smiling, and preparing to put a ring on the finger of the girl who had never truly been his.

The gates screeched open. Veeresh stepped out — tall, dark, dangerous. His aura alone silenced the hall. Even the servants froze, the air thick with tension.

Veeresh’s guards moved with lethal precision, surrounding Simon. No words, no hesitation. Hands grabbed him, fists landed on his chest, and within moments, Simon was thrown aside like a ragdoll.

Veeresh didn’t even glance at the man who had tried to steal Poornima’s heart. He simply turned to her — Poornima Chowdary, trembling, stunned, eyes wide.

“Get your things. Now.”

Her mind reeled.

“What… what are you doing?” she whispered, voice barely audible.

Veeresh ignored the question, his expression sharp, unreadable. He took her hand — firm, commanding, unyielding — and led her out.

The world outside the mansion seemed to shrink to just the two of them.

Simon, humiliated and beaten, scrambled to his feet, trying to speak, but Veeresh’s gaze landed on him — cold, lethal, unyielding.

“Stay away from her,” Veeresh warned, voice like ice over fire. “She is my wife now. Touch her, speak to her, even look at her, and I’ll make sure you regret it for the rest of your miserable life.”

Simon swallowed hard, fear replacing the arrogance he had arrived with.

“Yes… sir,” he stammered, backing away.

Veeresh’s attention snapped back to Poornima. Her hands shook in his, her heart pounding like a drum, a mix of fear, confusion, and something else she didn’t understand yet.

You’re coming with me,” Veeresh said, voice commanding, a dangerous softness underneath.

Poornima couldn’t respond. Her mind screamed, her heart protested — but her body obeyed, following him into the sleek black car waiting outside.

The city lights streaked past as they drove into the night. She looked at him Veeresh Deewan — the man the world feared, the devil in a suit, the storm she didn’t know she had stepped into.

“Where… where are you taking me?” she finally whispered.

Veeresh’s eyes met hers in the rearview mirror, dark, intense, possessive.

“Somewhere you’ll understand,” he said simply.

“You belong to me now, Poornima. Forever.”

Her heart skipped a beat. Her mind screamed. But deep down, a part of her — the part that had been crushed by betrayal — sensed that the game had just begun.

And with Veeresh, there would be no more illusions, no more lies. Only the raw, dangerous reality of a man who claimed everything — and would not let go.