The Pooja Chauhan's heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird as the heavy wooden doors of the wedding suite clicked shut behind her. The room was a vision of forced romance—rose petals scattered across the king-sized bed, fairy lights twinkling from the canopy, and the faint scent of jasmine and sandalwood incense heavy in the air. Her red lehenga, heavy with gold embroidery, clung to her sweat-dampened skin. She had tried to run. God, she had tried. Two days ago, slipping out of the family haveli under cover of night, heart pounding with the desperate hope of escaping this arranged nightmare into the Chauhan syndicate.

But they had caught her. Vaibhav's men had dragged her back, bound and gagged, just hours before the pheras. Now, on her wedding night, there was no escape. The syndicate didn't forgive betrayal.