Tw Warning ⚠️

Graphic description of rape, blood,death and murder.

I am not glorifying rape or violence against women here but I despise rape and violence against women and other genders alike. No one should be molested like this. No men and women. The graphic description is also very important to understand the point of view of the victim.

This chapter contains detailed descriptions of [rape, murder, and graphic violence]. Reader discretion is strongly advised. If you find such themes distressing, you may choose to skim or skip certain sections. However, this chapter is essential to the story and the person mentioned here will play an important role later in the story. Please proceed with caution and take care of your well-being.

Don't report the story just because you are triggered. Go read the disclaimer if you are triggered and know about how the book will come out. I am not forcing you to read this book so respect my hardwork by not reporting.

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‘Gumnam hain koyee

Badnam hain koyee

Kisko khabar kaun hain woh

Anjan hain koyee’

‘Appearances can be deceiving and sometimes we should  fear the unknown as well.’

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Shrouded in darkness, was a man, who manipulated Maya's life with calculated precision. He orchestrated events to make her believe she was an orphan, alone in the world. His eyes gleamed with a sinister intensity as he watched her from the shadows.

"Ah! Finally I found you babygirl after a search of seven years. You don't know how much I yearned to hear your voice. Be ready, I am coming for you," he saiod with excitement and relief in his voice. Maya, taken aback by the sudden call, tried to respond, but he cut her off.

"Who is this?" she demanded, trying to keep her voice steady.

But the line was dead. He had ended the call, before she can even finish the question,  leaving her with more questions than answers.

The stranger smiled to himself, anticipating her move. He knew Maya's determination, her genius-level intellect. He had to be one step ahead.

"Discard the SIM card after breaking it pieces," he ordered his man, his voice low and menacing. "Make sure it's untraceable and ask that slut to come to me which I have asked for."

His man nodded, taking the SIM card from the phone. The stranger watched, a smirk spreading across his face as he gazed at Maya's childhood picture.

"Such a beautiful girl," he whispered, his eyes gleaming with a pedophilic obsession. "Mine, all mine."

With a flick of his wrist, he signaled his man to leave. The broken sim card was tossed into a nearby river, swept away by the currents. The stranger's secret was safe, for now.

The stranger's lair was a basement, miles away from the party venue. The air was thick with the scent of decay, and the walls seemed to closing in on anyone who dared to enter. It was a place where hope went to die, where the lost souls never found their way back.

Maya, however, was not one to give up easily. She had received notes from the stranger when she was a teenager, when apparently she felt like she was new in the orphanage, written in red ink. They stopped when she desperately decided to run away from the orphanage, but she had no idea he was watching her every move, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

The stranger's face twisted in anger when he lost touch with Maya when she ran away and his smaller minions lost their supervision. He thought he had lost his puppet, his plaything but did not know that Maya had returned the next day itself. But now, he had found her again, and his emotions shifted from anger to excitement.

"Ah, babygirl," he whispered, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "I've found you again. And this time, you'll never escape."

Both the stranger and Maya possessed genius-level intellect, a trait that ran in their bloodline, shaping their sharp minds in ways few could comprehend. He had a clean chit name in the business world and was seen as a loving, respectable figure within the family, a man whose reputation was untouchable in the eyes of the outside world. Only a handful knew even a fraction of his heinous crimes, for he had meticulously erased every necessary proof and trace, leaving nothing but whispers and shadows in his wake.

Yet, despite his near-perfect cover, a few remnants of his past misdeeds had slipped through his grasp—fragments of truth held by those more powerful than him, individuals he could not silence.

They were two sides of the same coin, bound by an unspoken connection, each wielding their intelligence in different ways. Where one thrived in the light, the other lurked in the dark, their fates unknowingly intertwined by a legacy far older than them.

As the stranger began to play with Maya's life once more, he knew he had to be careful. She was a rebel, a wild card who could slip through his fingers at any moment. But he was determined to keep her under his watch, to make her dance to his tune.

"Babygirl, you're mine," he whispered, his voice dripping with menace. "And soon, you'll realize it too."

The game was on, with Maya as the pawn and the stranger as the mastermind. But Maya was not one to be underestimated. She had a few tricks up her sleeve and she is a Queen to control situations regardless her insecurities , and she was ready to take on the stranger in a battle of wits. The question was, who would emerge victorious?

Maya's past experiences had made her wary of commitments. She thought she was abandoned, with no one to care for her. The notes in red ink had reinforced this belief, making her question her own worth.

But now, as an undercover cop, Maya was determined to uncover the truth as well as dedicated her life to social work in undercover. She would not be intimidated by the stranger's games. She would fight back, using her genius-level intellect to outmaneuver him.

The stranger, however, was confident in his own abilities. He had manipulated Maya's life for years, and he knew her weaknesses. He would use them to his advantage, keeping her under his control. He didn't know that Maya has turned her weakness into her strength. Even if anyone would try to take advantage of it, flames of strength would engulf that person.

The battle of wits had begun, with Maya and the stranger engaged in a deadly game of cat and mouse. Only time would tell who would emerge victorious.

As the night wore on, the stranger's thoughts turned to his next victim. He had ordered a prostitute to be brought to his red room, a place where his darkest desires came to life.

The prostitute, dressed in a modest red cotton saree, knew she was in grave danger. She had heard the rumors about the stranger—how he was a monster in bed and how his victims never survived the night. She prayed to God to keep her children safe and strong, hoping they would find a way to survive in this cruel world without her. She had already told them that this might be her last night with them. She couldn’t guarantee that she would return home.

But she had no choice—this was the line of work she was bound to do in order to survive. Whatever money she earned went toward her children’s education. Their fathers were unknown, and if she rejected a customer, she would lose ₹1000—an amount she couldn’t afford to forgo, as it meant her children wouldn’t even have a proper meal to maintain their health. She was dragged to the red room, screaming and kicking. The stranger watched from the shadows, his eyes gleaming with excitement.

"Welcome to my playroom, slut," he whispered, his voice dripping with sadistic pleasure. "You're going to love it here."

The sex worker knew she was doomed; she wouldn’t leave this shady place alive. She couldn’t even refuse because they were short on money. Her last savings had already been used to pay for her children’s school fees, and now she desperately needed money to buy food and medicine—especially for her youngest daughter, who had suddenly fallen seriously ill. Normally, clients would pay ₹1000 for her services, but since her body had matured after multiple pregnancies, the brothel owner had made her one of the top, most exclusive sex workers.

Being exclusive came with both privilege and disadvantage. She was allowed to own a proper home and send her children—both sons and daughters—to school, but she was only permitted to serve two clients per day. This limited availability meant that only a few wealthy customers booked her, mostly the same premium clients over and over. Some would even claim to have received bad service, leading the brothel owner, Rathi Amma, to deduct their payments entirely from her share.

She never complained, though, because, miraculously, she was always saved by a mysterious benefactor—a man who claimed to have been her client once. He was so influential that even his name couldn’t be revealed. He would send her his account details with a simple message: Take whatever you need.

But being a woman of integrity, she only withdrew the bare minimum required and left the bank with a grateful heart. However, this month was different. Her savings were gone, drained by her youngest daughter's medical expenses, who happened  to have fallen seriously ill suddenly and now, she was barely managing by cutting her own meals. She was desperately short on money.

That’s when this client had offered ₹10,000 for a single night—an amount she couldn't refuse. In her desperation, she convinced herself that he might be her past benefactor. But she didn’t know that this was someone else entirely, and somewhere, someone else harbored an unspoken, unrequited love for her.

She remembered only one man who had ever treated her with kindness—Vansh Srivastav. They had met when he first booked her months ago. Unlike others, he had seen her as a person rather than just a body. He had been the only one to ask for her consent, to make sure she was comfortable. That night had been the best of her life—he had treated her with respect.

She never knew that it was the same Vansh Srivastav who was a self-made multi-billionaire who had built an empire of 'VS Industries' from scratch.

He had offered her a job, but she had refused, saying that no one would hire a woman with a past like hers. More than that, she didn’t want her children to suffer the societal taunts of being born to a former sex worker. He had tried to convince her, but she had declined over and over again until he finally relented.

He told her that he would not give up on persuading her to leave this profession, no matter how many times she refused. He made it clear that until she relented, he would continue to push her toward a better life.

His voice was firm, laced with determination, as he declared that he would go to any extent to ensure she walked away from this world after his return from the business trip. He wasn’t asking—he was making a promise.

Once she left this profession, he vowed to support her in rebuilding her life, starting with enrolling her in college so she could receive a proper education and secure a respectable job. He wanted her to have a future where she could hold her head high, free from the shackles of her past.

With that, he stormed out of the room without waiting for her answer, leaving her pondering over his words, torn between fear, hope, and the uncertainty of a life beyond what she had always known. She had no idea that it was the first and last meeting she would ever have with Vansh—neither did he.

Before leaving, he had made arrangements with Rathi Amma—ensuring she was only allowed to serve two clients per day and that she was not mistreated. For the first month, things went smoothly, but once Vansh left for a business trip, everything changed. The same wealthy clients returned, exploiting her and cutting her pay. She wasn’t allowed to make calls unless it was an emergency.

For her, Vansh was the first person who had truly cared for her well-being.

But tonight, everything changed. What changed was her fate.

⚠️ TRIGGER WARNING starts here⚠️  

As the night wore on, the women was subjected to unspeakable horrors. She was tortured, both physically and mentally, her body pushed to its limits. What was supposed to be consensual sex, where both parties found pleasure, turned into the most excruciating night of her life. Her body was brutalized under the guise of intimacy—something that should never happen between consenting partners.

 The stranger's moans filled the room as he indulged in his twisted desires. He called out Maya's name, "Babygirl," over and over, his voice dripping with pedophilic obsession.

The prostitute knew she was doomed. There was no escape. She had never experienced such pain and terror before. After just two rounds, she started bleeding profusely, her body wracked with agony. She knew this was her last night alive. She prayed to God, asking for strength for her children—to help them survive in this cruel world. And she prayed for justice, hoping that monsters like him would one day face the same horrors they inflicted upon others.

Despite her pleas for mercy, the stranger continued his brutality. Her screams were music to his ears, fueling his sadistic pleasure. The sight of her blood only heightened his depravity, driving him to commit even more heinous acts.

As the night wore on, her body was battered and bruised beyond recognition. She begged him to stop, screaming "No" until her voice went hoarse. But the stranger wouldn't relent. He took her repeatedly, completely disregarding her cries of pain and her desperate pleas for mercy.

Her vaginal walls were lacerated from the repeated brutality. Bite marks, bruises, and whip marks covered her broken body—a testament to the torture she endured.

Still, he wasn’t done.

He bit down on her shoulder—skin splitting under his teeth. He clawed at her breasts, whipped her back until welts bloomed like broken vines. Her lips were torn. Her eyes red. Her breath a stuttering whisper between sobs.

And then—

He stopped.

Confused.

Angry.

The wires of the IUD had stung his manhood. In blind rage, he reached inside her and ripped it out with his bare hand.

The IUD that had been inserted into her uterus just the day before by an NGO doctor—who had visited the brothel to educate the women on contraception—had punctured her uterine wall badly which got ripped out.

Her scream was so raw, it cracked in her throat.

Blood sprayed. The sheets beneath her turned a ghastly shade of maroon. She writhed, sobbing, choking on pain.

Still, he didn’t stop.

Again. And again. And again.

Her body—a battlefield.

Her soul—fractured.

Her mind—gone.

By the fourth round, she could no longer scream. Her voice had surrendered. Her spirit had broken. She saw her children’s faces in the ceiling, blurry and fading.

She whispered their names, lips barely moving, her last prayer caught between breaths.

Her throat was raw from crying and screaming, her eyes bloodshot and devoid of tears. She had no strength left to fight. Blood dripped from her cut lips and wounded forehead, staining the sheets crimson beneath her. She could feel life slipping away from her body.

 In those final moments, she thought of her children—their laughter, their warmth. They would be left alone in this merciless world. She wished, with all her heart, that men like him would be punished so brutally that they would think twice before ever laying a hand on a woman again. Her last unfulfilled wish was that she could even say a proper goodbye to her friend Vansh who has treated her more than a prostitute, like a woman and not a body which was just a vessel for his own pleasures.

 With that last thought, she surrendered to the darkness, letting death pull her into the endless abyss. Her fate never allowed her to know that her long-lost twin sister, whom she believed to be dead, was actually alive and suffering a similar fate at the hands of her abusive husband.

And then, the light inside her blinked out.

Her body slumped.

But even death did not free her.

Even after her life had slipped away, the stranger continued his depravity, violating her corpse until he was finally satisfied.

By dawn, his men found her battered and lifeless body—a grim reminder of the stranger's brutality.

Her body lay sprawled across the blood-soaked bed. Unmoving. Unrecognizable. Unforgiven by fate.

⚠️ TRIGGER WARNING ends here⚠️  

The stranger ordered his men to dispose of the evidence.

"Get rid of the body," he instructed, his voice cold and detached. "Burn it, and bury the ashes at the roots of the mango tree next to the basement. Throw the saree into the river."

"Yes, sir," his men replied, their voices laced with a mixture of fear and obedience.

The stranger watched as his men carried out his orders, the flames consuming the prostitute's body, reducing it to ashes. They then buried those ashes at the roots of the mango tree, its branches stretching towards the sky like skeletal fingers.

"If only you could talk," the stranger whispered to the tree, his eyes gleaming with a sinister intensity. "You would tell tales of the horrors that have unfolded in this basement, wouldn't you?"

The tree, of course, remained silent, its bark rough and unyielding, its leaves rustling softly in the wind.

"But you won't, will you?" the stranger continued, his voice dripping with malice. "You'll keep my secrets, my dear tree. You'll keep them buried deep within your roots, where no one will ever find them."

The crimes committed in the basement remained unspoken, undiscovered, and unpunished. The stranger, confident in his ability to evade justice, continued to manipulate Maya, to play with her life like a puppet on strings.

One of his men approached him hesitantly. "Sir, what about the girl? Maya?"

The stranger’s eyes narrowed dangerously. "What about her?"

"Should we...kidnap her and take care of her too?" his man asked, his voice trembling.

The stranger’s laughter echoed through the basement, cold and mirthless. "No, not yet. She will come here on her own. Kidnapping is unnecessary. Whenever she arrives, I will play my cards because I have plans for her—plans that will make her scream with pleasure... and pain."

His man nodded, a twisted grin spreading across his face. "Yes, sir. Should I prepare her for you? Or perhaps... I could enjoy her too?"

The smile vanished from the stranger’s face, replaced by a fierce glare that made the man flinch. The basement seemed to grow colder as the stranger’s voice dropped to a menacing growl. "Maya is mine. No one else will touch her. If you value your life, don’t ever suggest that again."

The man paled, lowering his head. "I apologize, sir. It won’t happen again."

"Good," the stranger hissed, his voice sharp and final. He took a step closer, his dark gaze piercing into the trembling man before him. "Now, call her. You know who I mean."

The man hesitated briefly, then nodded. "Yes, sir. Right away."

The stranger watched him leave, a sinister smile creeping back onto his face. His mind wandered to the woman he had summoned. The daughter no one knew about. Conceived in the shadows of his sins, born from his manipulation and lust. Her mother—a victim of his power—was gone, but the daughter had been shaped into his perfect tool. Spoiled, arrogant, and unflinchingly loyal to him, she was his secret weapon, kept hidden from the world and even his family.

Moments later, she arrived. The model walked in with an air of arrogance, her hips swaying deliberately, clad in a designer dress that clung to her perfectly sculpted figure. Her striking beauty was undeniable, with sharp cheekbones, luscious dark hair, and those eyes—deep brown with golden flecks, inherited from the man standing before her. It was the only feature that betrayed their blood connection, though no one would suspect the truth. Everything else about her was her mother’s, a reminder of the woman who died giving birth to her.

She sauntered closer, her voice honeyed but laced with mockery. "What is it this time, sir? Another favor for your dirty little plans?"

The stranger's lips curled into a smile, but his eyes remained cold. "You owe everything to me. I gave you this life, this career, this freedom to parade around like the spoiled little queen you are. Do not forget that."

She rolled her eyes but said nothing, a playful smirk dancing on her lips. "Fine. What do you want me to do?"

He leaned closer, whispering something in her ear. Her smirk vanished momentarily, replaced by a flicker of surprise, but she quickly masked it. "That’s bold, even for you," she said, her tone low but intrigued.

"You’ll do it," he said firmly. "Because I own you, just like I own everything else in this world. And if you don’t..." He paused, his tone turning even colder. "I’ll make sure every dirty little secret you’ve buried sees the light of day. Your illicit affairs, your shady deals, your so-called career—all of it exposed. You’ll be out of the modeling industry faster than you can blink, and you’ll find yourself on the streets, forgotten and ruined. Do I make myself clear?"

Her defiance faltered, her smirk disappearing entirely. She swallowed hard, her voice quieter now. "Crystal clear."

"Good." His tone was dismissive, as if her compliance were a mere formality.

Their conversation trailed off into muted whispers, the details of his orders hidden from prying ears. But the air in the basement grew heavier, charged with the weight of whatever sinister plan had just been set into motion.

What no one else knew, not even the men closest to him, was the depth of the stranger’s obsession with Maya. His attraction to her had started in the most twisted and unthinkable way—from the moment she was born. He had been drawn to her even as an infant, an unnatural and depraved darkness rooted deep in his soul. The years had only fanned those flames into a more dangerous obsession, one he intended to act on no matter the cost.

What the stranger did not realize, however, was that destiny had already arranged the pieces of this deadly game. Rajveer, with his consuming obsession and unrelenting love for Maya, had unknowingly stepped into the role of her protector and savior. Whatever forbidden desires Rajveer harbored for Maya, they were matched by his unwavering determination to have her, no matter the consequences.

The stage was set for an inevitable clash between the two men. The stranger, blinded by his vile obsession, believed he held all the cards. But Rajveer was already steps ahead, his relentless pursuit of Maya pushing him toward victory.

The stranger’s downfall was not just inevitable—it was written in the stars. Rajveer’s obsession, darker and more possessive than the stranger could imagine, would be the key to Maya’s salvation and the stranger’s ultimate defeat. The battle between them was no longer about desire or control—it was a war of obsession, with Maya’s heart as the ultimate prize.

As the mango tree stood guard over the basement, its roots digging deep into the earth, it seemed to whisper a warning to Maya: "Be careful, for the stranger's darkness runs deep, and his evil knows no bounds." But only the wind heard its silent warning, and Maya remained unaware of the dangers that lay ahead. Yet, in this cruel game, she was not entirely alone.

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I really cried hard writing this chapter. No one should face what she has gone through, not even a sex worker. They are humans after all not plaything.

And nowhere it is written that a consented sex may not turn into brutal rape. So hardcore sex and brutal rape are not same.

So the people out there who want to have hookups in future make sure you know the person well enough before proceeding otherwise consequences maybe severe.

Check out my account in both Scrollstack and Wattpad and follow me there. Follow me instagram for spoilers.

In wattpad chapters will be posted late but is free.

Thank you.

Stay blessed.