The proposal

The next morning was the deadline. Day three.

It was seven o'clock in the morning. Vikram's flight was landing soon, and he would be at their house by 10 AM to collect his prize.

Arjun was fully dressed, preparing himself for the darkest day of his life. He wore his best daily wear—a rich, blood-red cotton saree with heavy gold dots. His deep low-cut blouse was black, pushing his large padded breasts up prominently. His heavy makeup was flawless, hiding the dark circles of his nightmares. His red bindi, bright sindoor, diamond nose stud, and heavy gold earrings were all in place. He wore heavy stacks of red glass bangles, his thick silver anklets, and his silver toe rings. He stood in the living room in his black block heels, holding Priya's hand tightly.

They were simply waiting for the doorbell to ring. Waiting to surrender.

At 7:30 AM, a sleek, black luxury car pulled into their driveway.

Priya frowned, looking out the large window. "That is not Vikram's car. His car is silver. And he is too early."

Arjun's heart hammered against his padded chest. He hid slightly behind Priya, gripping her arm.

The heavy doorbell rang.

Priya took a deep breath, walked to the front door, and pulled it open.

Standing there was an older, highly distinguished Indian man in his late fifties. He wore an immaculate, sharp grey suit. His hair was perfectly styled, silver at the temples. His eyes were cold, calculating, and predatory. He carried a silver-tipped walking cane, though he didn't seem to need it to walk.

Priya gasped. She immediately took a step back. "Mr. Singhania?"

Rohan Singhania was a legendary billionaire in the Mumbai corporate world. He was a ruthless corporate raider, known for destroying companies just for fun. More importantly, he was Priya's former boss from five years ago. He was a toxic, aggressive man who constantly tried to crush her confident, commanding spirit in the boardroom.

"Hello, Priya," Rohan said. His voice was deep and gravelly. He didn't ask for permission; he just stepped smoothly inside, his polished leather shoes clicking on the marble.

He walked into the living room and stopped. His cold eyes instantly locked onto Arjun. He looked at the tall, lean man with no facial hair, dressed perfectly as a traditional Indian wife. He looked at the red saree, the huge padded bust, the heavy makeup, the mangalsutra, and the glass bangles.

Unlike Vikram, Rohan didn't look hungry or attracted. He just looked highly amused.

"So, the rumors were completely true," Rohan chuckled softly, tapping his cane on the floor. "Your husband really did become your obedient little housewife. Fascinating. Truly fascinating."

Arjun felt deeply exposed. He crossed his arms over his large breasts, his bangles clinking rapidly as he shook in fear. He hid entirely behind Priya's back.

"What are you doing in my house, Rohan?" Priya demanded, her natural authority snapping back into place. "How do you even know where I live?"

Rohan turned his cold eyes back to Priya. "I know everything in this city, Priya. I know your company was bought out by Vikram's firm. I know you were fired. And because I have highly paid spies in Vikram's office, I know that Vikram came here three nights ago. I know you are totally bankrupt."

Priya swallowed hard. "That is none of your business."

"It is my business because I hate Vikram," Rohan said, his smile vanishing. "He is an arrogant brat who is trying to steal a massive government contract from my company. I know what he wants from you. He wants your beautiful, strange little wife here. He wants to take Arjun to his Alibaug mansion."

"Get out," Priya said, pointing at the door.

"I am here to offer you a better deal," Rohan said calmly, leaning on his cane. "Vikram's deadline is 10 AM, isn't it? Listen to my proposal before you hand your husband over to a monster."