Cinderella trembled in the dimly lit royal chambers, her glass slippers long discarded on the marble floor. The grand ball had ended hours ago, but the night was far from over. Prince Charming—Rahul, as the palace guards whispered his true name in hushed Hindi tones—had dragged her here by the wrist, his grip bruising. Her blue gown was torn at the shoulder, the corset laces already loosened by eager hands. This was no fairy tale ending. This was raw, filthy desire unleashed.

"Kyaa lag rahi ho aaj, meri jaan?" (What are you looking like today, my darling?) Rahul growled in Hindi, his voice thick with lust as he shoved her against the massive four-poster bed. His fingers dug into her waist, pulling her flush against his hard body. "Yeh blue gown tere badan ko aur bhi gora dikha rahi hai. Main isse faad ke phenk doonga." (This blue gown makes your body look even fairer. I'll tear it off and throw it away.)