The sunlight spilling through the curtains felt like an insult. It lit up the destruction Rudra had left behind — torn fabric scattered across the floor, bruises blooming on Ayesha’s skin, and the stark crimson stain on the sheets.

A silent reminder that last night wasn’t a dream.

It was reality.

Ayesha lay curled on her side, the sheet barely covering her nakedness. Every inch of her body ached — thighs sore from being forced apart, her skin tender where his mouth had branded her with bruises. But the deepest pain sat in her chest, heavy and unrelenting.

She wasn’t a wife. She was a possession. A trophy in Rudra Thakur’s revenge game.

The door creaked open. Her whole body tensed.

Rudra stood there — freshly showered, shirt half-buttoned, sleeves rolled up, hair still damp. He looked devastatingly handsome, the kind of man who could destroy lives with a single glance.

Including hers.

For a split second, something flickered in his eyes — guilt, maybe regret — but it was gone before she could name it, replaced by cold indifference.

“Get up,” he ordered. His voice was rough, a cruel rasp that scraped over her skin like barbed wire.

Ayesha clutched the sheet tighter. “I’m not ready to—”

“I didn’t ask if you were ready,” he cut her off, stalking toward the bed. “You’re my wife now, remember? That means you move when I say, you eat when I say, and you open those pretty legs when I say.”

Tears burned in her eyes, but she bit them back. Crying in front of him only fed his cruelty.

When she didn’t move fast enough, Rudra grabbed the sheet, yanking it off her body. She gasped, instinctively covering herself with her hands, but he only smirked.

“Still shy?” he mocked. “You didn’t seem so shy last night when you were moaning my name.”

Shame crawled up her throat like bile. “You forced me.”

“Did I?” He tilted his head, fingers tracing one of the bruises on her breast, making her flinch. “Your body seemed to remember me just fine. Or was all that wetness just for show?”

Her slap came before she could stop herself, the sharp crack echoing through the room.

Rudra’s head snapped to the side, his jaw tightening. For a second, she thought she saw a flash of something vulnerable — but it vanished just as quickly, replaced by a chilling smile.

“Wrong move, Mrs. Thakur.”

Before she could run, he grabbed her ankle, dragging her across the bed. She twisted, struggling, but he was stronger, his grip iron. He flipped her onto her stomach, yanking her hips up until she was on her knees, exposed and trembling.

“Rudra, stop!” Her voice shook with panic.

He leaned over her, lips brushing her ear. “I gave you everything once — my heart, my loyalty, my fucking soul. And you crushed it under your pretty little feet.”

“That’s not true!” she cried. “You don’t know the truth—”

“Shut up.” His hand came down on her ass, a sharp slap that made her gasp. “You lost your right to speak when you walked out of my life.”

Another slap, harder this time, leaving a red handprint on her soft skin. “What was it you said? You found someone richer?”

Ayesha’s stomach twisted. That lie had come back to haunt her like a ghost with claws.

“You wanted luxury, didn’t you?” Rudra’s voice was venomous. “Fine. You can crawl on your knees like the little gold-digger you are.”

He shoved her off the bed, onto the cold floor. Ayesha’s knees hit the marble with a sharp sting, her palms pressed flat as she tried to catch herself.

“Knees.” Rudra stood above her, cold and unrelenting. “Crawl to me.”

Her cheeks burned with humiliation. “I’m your wife.”

“No,” he said coldly. “You’re my whore. My personal toy. And you’ll move when I say.”

Tears slid down her cheeks, but she crawled — because defying him meant more punishment. More humiliation. And even though her body still ached from last night, her pride hurt even more.

She stopped at his feet, head bowed.

Rudra hooked a finger under her chin, forcing her to look up at him. “Good girl.”

His zipper slid down, the metallic sound echoing like a gunshot. “Open your mouth.”

Ayesha froze. “Rudra, please…”

His hand twisted in her hair, yanking her head back. “I said open.”

Tears blurred her vision, but she obeyed, lips parting, her body trembling as he filled her mouth with his heat and hardness. He was cruel — thrusting deep, ignoring her gagging, holding her head still so she couldn’t pull away.

“Choke on it,” he growled. “Choke on the man you betrayed.”

Her nails dug into his thighs, the humiliation so sharp it stole her breath. But somewhere beneath the cruelty, she tasted something else — something bitter and broken. His own pain, his own need to destroy the only woman who ever made him weak.

When he finally released her, she collapsed onto the floor, coughing, tears streaking down her cheeks.

Rudra zipped his pants, looking down at her with a cold smile. “Clean yourself up, wife. We have guests tonight.”

She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, chest heaving. “Why are you doing this?” Her voice was hoarse. “You loved me once.”

His smile faltered for a second — just a second. “Exactly,” he said softly. “And now I hate you just as much.”

He left her there, broken and humiliated on the floor, the taste of him still on her tongue, the weight of his hate crushing what little was left of her heart.

But as the door closed behind him, Ayesha wiped her tears and made herself a silent promise.

He might own her body. But he would never own her soul.

---

End of Chapter 5