Episode 2: The First Morning of Captivity
The first light of morning wasn't falling on Reya's eyelids—it was sinking into her, a cold light in which every fear from the night was still alive.
She opened her eyes with a start. For a few moments, she couldn't understand where she was. Then the heavy chandelier embedded in the ceiling, the dark wood carvings on the walls, and the unfamiliar scent filling the room brought everything back.
The club's penthouse. Riyansh Khurana. That paper.
The contract.
Reya sat up. Her hands moved instinctively to her wrist, where the imprint of Riyansh's fingers from the previous night still seemed to burn. She looked around the room in alarm. She was in a vast, luxurious bedroom. The sea was visible beyond the glass wall in front of her. The city below had already awakened, but time had stopped inside this room.
A long white dress lay beside the door. A small black card rested on top of it.
Reya picked it up.
“Breakfast is ready downstairs. Ten minutes.”
There was no name beneath it. No name was needed. Riyansh's command rang clearly in that single line.
Reya crumpled the card and threw it onto the floor. “I'm not a prisoner.”
A voice came from outside the door. “Prisoners usually aren't given choices, ma'am.”
The door opened. A woman around fifty entered. Her hair was neatly tied back, and her face held an emotionless calm.
“My name is Saroj. Sir asked you to get ready.”
“I don't need orders from any sir.”
“You can tell him that yourself.” Saroj gestured toward the dress. “But come downstairs first. Sir doesn't like to wait.”
Reya clenched her teeth. “Where's my brother?”
Saroj's expression changed for the first time, just slightly. “Alive.”
“I want to speak to him.”
“Sir said you'll have breakfast first. Then he'll decide whom you're allowed to speak to.”
Anger boiled inside Reya. She picked up the dress and threw it at Saroj. “Tell him I'm not some doll who lives in his house.”
Saroj caught the dress. “Dolls aren't given the chance to make their own decisions, ma'am. You are—but Every choice comes with a price already set.”
With that, she walked out.
Reya stood motionless for a while. Then she put on her old salwar kameez, opened the door, and stepped outside. The hallway was so long that the sound of her footsteps kept returning behind her. Large portraits hung on both sides—members of the Khurana family. The same hardness marked every face, but Reya stopped in front of one portrait.
A young man, around twenty years old. Laughter shone in his eyes. Beneath the portrait, only two words were written: “Aarav Khurana.”
“Stopping in front of it is forbidden.”
Riyansh's voice came from behind her.
Reya turned and saw him standing there in a black shirt and dark pants. He was wearing ordinary clothes instead of last night's suit, but his presence hadn't diminished. If anything, it had grown stronger. He held a cup of coffee, his eyes fixed directly on Reya's face.
“Then why put it here?” Reya didn't take her eyes off the portrait. “To scare people?”
Riyansh's face hardened. “I said stopping in front of it is forbidden.”
“And what if I don't listen?”
He slowly approached her. “Then I'll have to teach you who has the right to ask questions in this house.”
For the first time, Reya looked straight into his eyes. “Someone who isn't afraid.”
Silence stretched between them for several moments. Somewhere in the distance, a clock chimed eight times.
Riyansh's gaze shifted from her face to her hand, still clenched into a fist. “You are afraid.”
“Yes.”
At her direct answer, Riyansh's brow lifted slightly.
“But being afraid and bowing down aren't the same thing,” Reya said. “I signed yesterday to save my brother's life. That doesn't mean I gave you my soul too.”
Riyansh stopped extremely close to her. “You handed your life over to me for three years.”
“On paper.”
“Things written on paper often last longer than life.”
“Then that paper must also say I can go to the police against you.”
Riyansh didn't smile. “Go ahead and see.”
“I will.”
“After breakfast.”
There was such certainty in his voice, as if he already knew where Reya would go and through which door she would return.
A long table was set in the dining room downstairs. Reya pulled out a chair but didn't sit. “I want to speak to my brother first.”
Riyansh sat at the opposite end of the table. He took a sip of coffee. “I sent Rohan out of the city.”
The color drained from Reya's face. “What?”
“He's alive. He's safe. But you won't see him until I want you to.”
“You promised you'd let him go.”
“And I did.”
“I need proof.”
Riyansh slid a tablet across the table. A video of Rohan began playing on the screen. He was sitting in a room, frightened but alive. A camera faced him.
“Reya, listen to me,” Rohan said in the video. “Don't do anything because of me. Just... just don't make this man angry.”
The video stopped there.
Tears filled Reya's eyes, but this time they weren't from fear. They were from anger. “You threatened him and made him say that.”
“The difference between truth and a threat always depends on the convenience of the person listening.”
Reya picked up the tablet and tried to throw it at him, but Riyansh caught her wrist in midair. His grip was strong, but this time Reya used all her strength to pull free.
“Don't touch me!”
Riyansh loosened his grip, but didn't let go. “Your biggest problem is that you try to push every danger out of your way head-on.”
“And your biggest problem is that you think you own every human being.”
Something flashed in his eyes for a moment—anger, or perhaps an old wound.
Then he released Reya's wrist. “You're coming with me this afternoon.”
“Where?”
“To your new home.”
“I'm not going anywhere with you.”
Riyansh rose from his chair. “You have ten minutes. Change your clothes.”
“And what if I refuse?”
He leaned toward her, his voice dropping low. “Then I'll carry you there. The only difference will be that the first time, there will be ground beneath your feet. The second time, there won't.”
Reya's face burned with humiliation and fury. “You're not human.”
Riyansh straightened. His face was expressionless. “I figured that out a long time ago.”
He turned and walked away.
Reya remained standing there. Her eyes drifted back to Aarav's portrait on the wall above. There was some secret between that smiling face and Riyansh's cold eyes, a secret whose key was locked inside this mansion.
At that very moment, a message arrived on her phone from an unknown number.
“Don't trust Riyansh. Aarav's death wasn't an accident.”
Reya's fingers went numb.
She started to type a reply, but a second message had already arrived—
“And if you want to know the truth, find the red file in his room tonight. Alone.”
Reya held her breath as she stared at the screen.
From behind her, Riyansh's voice came. “Who sent you that message?”
Reya hid the phone in her fist. For the first time, a plan began to take shape beneath her fear.
She looked at Riyansh and said in a very calm voice, “No one.”
Riyansh's eyes narrowed.
He had already recognized the lie.