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The ownership tax

  • 21 Oct, 2025

The Rathore Group’s annual winter gala was held three weeks after Adhya’s decisive boardroom debut. It was a lavish, blinding display of generational power, designed not for celebration but for scrutiny.

Adhya, dressed in a custom-made, conservative yet undeniably elegant gown, felt less like a guest and more like a high-value exhibit. The heavy platinum wedding band—the one Ranvijay insisted was a "tether," not a "band"—felt cold and permanent on her finger.

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"...a secret shared under the light of the Blood Moon." "...he rules the Silver Cross Academy with an iron fist." "...bound by the contract sealed with a single, black rose."
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    Lily couldn't speak, shame and fury choking her. She wanted to look away, but his gaze was a magnetic, controlling force, demanding her total attention. The humiliation and the intensity of his absolute gaze collided, pushing her over the edge. Her body, the ultimate traitor, completed its surrender under the direct, demanding force of his eyes.

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