The silence that followed the video clip was not an absence of sound, but a void filled with collective horror. Every eye in the grand ballroom was fixed on Hema, then on Vikram, whose face had gone from disbelief to a mask of grotesque fury. Rajesh, who had been subtly attempting to melt into the shadows near the bar, now stood frozen, caught in the sudden, blinding spotlight of his own treachery.
A low growl rumbled in Vikram's chest, deep and guttural. It wasn't a sound of a man, but of a wounded, enraged animal. "Hema!" he spat, his voice raw, barely recognizable. His hand shot out, not to strike her, but to grip her arm with a bone-crushing force that made her gasp. "You... you whore! In my house! On my anniversary! With him!" His eyes, usually shrewd and calculating, were now wide with a terrifying, unhinged rage.
Hema, her composure finally shattering, let out a terrified whimper. "Vikram, please! It's not what it seems!" Her perfect smile ruined by pure terror.
But Vikram was beyond reason. His gaze darted to Rajesh, now pale and trembling, caught like a rabbit in the headlights. A guttural roar tore from Vikram's throat. "You... you piece of filth! My own blood! My trusted man!" He shoved Hema violently away, sending her stumbling into a nearby table, then lunged towards Rajesh.
The scene erupted into chaos. Champagne flutes crashed, tables overturned, and the elegant decor was instantly ruined. Viktor Volkov and his brothers, however, remained unnervingly calm amidst the pandemonium. Viktor watched, a flicker of cold amusement in his eyes, while Mikhail stepped forward subtly, a predatory readiness in his posture. Lev's eyes remained sharp, taking in the unfolding disaster with an almost scientific interest.
Vikram reached Rajesh in a few furious strides. There was no finesse, no strategy, just pure, visceral hatred. He hauled Rajesh by the collar, slamming him against a marble pillar with a sickening thud. A sickening crack echoed through the ballroom, even over the screams.
Anya, Sia, and Rohan were caught in the crush of retreating bodies. Anya's mind reeled, unable to process the nightmarish tableau. Her parents, her perfect life, shattered before her eyes. Sia grabbed Anya's arm, pulling her back from the chaotic center. "Anya, we have to go! Now!"
But Anya couldn't move, her gaze fixed on the horrifying scene. Vikram, fueled by an incandescent rage, continued his brutal assault on Rajesh. There were sickening thuds, choked cries, and the wet, visceral sounds of flesh against marble. It was a raw, unfiltered display of violence that left no room for doubt about Rajesh's fate.
Then, Vikram turned. His eyes, burning with a maddened intensity, found Hema, who was desperately trying to scramble away, tears streaming down her face. "You wanted this, Hema?" Vikram snarled, his voice thick with unadulterated venom. "You wanted my empire? You wanted my death?" He stalked towards her, his movements jerky, uncoordinated, but terrifyingly determined.
Hema stumbled backwards, knocking over a flower arrangement. "No! Vikram, please!"
Vikram reached her. He didn't speak another word. There was a swift, brutal movement, too fast for many to clearly see, followed by a sickening sound that cut through the remaining screams in the room. Hema slumped to the ground, the sapphire blue of her saree pooling around her like spilled wine.
A horrified hush fell over the remaining guests. Vikram stood over her, breathing heavily, his chest heaving, his immaculate suit now disheveled and stained. He looked like a man possessed, a broken husk consumed by vengeance.
That's when he noticed the horror on Anya's face and the ripping out of her throat. Not loosing his composure he dragged both of them out of Anya's sight and came to comfort anya.
"im sorry u had to see that but it's time yk everything beta I'm not just a businessman I'm the don of Delhi "
With forehead kiss and a sigh . He went on toh the stage with an unwavering smile and composure and announced the start of the ball.
Viktor Volkov slowly lowered his champagne flute. His eyes met Vikram's across the carnage, a silent, chilling communication passing between them. Viktor's expression remained perfectly unreadable, but a subtle tightening around his eyes hinted at a deep, primal satisfaction. He had witnessed a spectacle, a testament to the unpredictable, yet ultimately controllable, nature of human desperation. This was far more informative than any dossier.
Anya felt a scream lodge in her throat, unable to escape. Her parents. The people who had shaped her entire world, now reduced to this grotesque, blood-soaked tableau. Sia clapped a hand over Anya's mouth, pulling her desperately towards a side exit, Rohan close behind, his face pale with shock.
The grand anniversary ball had ended, not with applause and celebration, but with screams, silence, and the chilling scent of blood. The gilded cage had not just been rattled; it had been violently torn apart, revealing the raw, brutal truth beneath.
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