The dress was there when she woke up - laid out like a warning.

Silk. Crimson. Backless. Slit too high. Neckline too low.
It wasn’t a dress. It was a challenge.

She stared at it for minutes, wondering if wearing it meant surrendering. But deep down, she knew Karan had already decided what she’d become in his world - so she might as well play the part and make it sting.

When she stepped out of the room, his reaction was immediate.

Karan’s gaze swept over her slowly, unapologetically, pausing at her bare back, the dip of the neckline, the scar on her arm she never tried to hide.

His jaw tightened - but whether it was anger or something darker, she couldn’t tell.

“Turn around,” he said.

She did.

He walked up, adjusting the clasp of the thin chain around her neck—his fingers grazing her skin deliberately.

“You wear power well,” he murmured.

“I’m not yours to decorate,” she replied coolly.

Karan’s lips brushed her ear. “Tonight, you are.”

🥀🥀🥀

The gala was a glittering cage.

Champagne flowed, heels clicked on marble, and false smiles bloomed like venomous flowers. Karan never left her side, his hand firm at her waist - a silent reminder that she was his tonight.

People whispered. Who is she?

Mistress? Trophy? Pawn?

She didn’t know what hurt more - the stares or the way she was starting not to care.

“You clean up nice,” a voice sneered behind her.

Aira turned to see a man, older, sharper, eyes lingering too long. Karan’s eyes narrowed instantly.

“Watch it,” he said, his voice low but lethal.

“Oh come on, Karan. You don’t usually mind sharing.”

The man chuckled darkly.

Before she could blink, Karan’s fist slammed into his jaw.

Gasps. Silence. Blood.

Aira froze, her breath stolen by the violence, by the way Karan stood over the man like a lion who just mauled a challenger.

“She’s not yours to talk about,” Karan growled.

He turned to her, and for the first time, she saw fire that wasn’t just cold rage - but something terrifyingly possessive.

🥀🥀🥀

Back in the car, silence pulsed between them like a heartbeat.

“You didn’t have to hit him,” she whispered.

He looked out the window, jaw tense. “I don’t like men touching what’s mine.”

“I’m not yours,” she snapped.

His gaze turned to her, burning. “Then don’t wear red next time.”

She opened her mouth to argue - but stopped. Because part of her liked that he did it. That he lost control. That, in a room full of power, he made her the center of his chaos.

And that scared her more than anything else.

Author :- This chapter was quite short, but let's see what happens next between Aira and Karan.

Don't forget to vote sweethearts ❤️.