Aryan's POV
Reyza stood inches from Ratan Malhotra.
Head high. Eyes blazing. Defiance radiating from every breath.
"You spent your whole life trying to control me," she said. "And you still failed."
His jaw tightened.
"I used to think it was my fault. That I wasn't enough. But it wasn't me. It was you."
She took a step closer.
"You never wanted a daughter. You wanted a puppet."
Ratan's fingers twitched. His face flushed.
Reyza saw it—and she smiled. A cold, dangerous smile.
"Guess what, Dad? The strings are cut."
"Reyza," I said quietly, warningly.
But she didn't stop.
"You hate me because I became the one thing you can't stand—a reflection of your failure."
His hand moved so fast, I didn't even see it coming.
CRACK.
The sound echoed—violent, vicious.
Her head snapped sideways. Her hair flew across her face.
And in one breathless second—she collapsed.
Her body hit the ground with a sickening thud.
She didn't move.
My world stopped.
"Reyza!" I dropped to my knees, my arms catching her limp body.
Her skin was pale. Her lips slightly parted. A red mark bloomed across her cheek, angry and raw.
"You hit her?" I whispered, barely able to speak. "You hit her?"
Ratan didn't flinch. "She needed to be put in her place."
I stood slowly, my hands shaking as I laid her gently down. My rage boiled like a storm inside my chest.
"You're disgusting."
"She was provoking—"
"I don't care!" I roared. "You don't touch her! Ever!"
He said nothing.
"She's not your soldier. Not your prisoner. She's your daughter—and you treat her like an enemy."
His eyes narrowed. "You think you know her? You think you know me?"
I stepped toward him, fists clenched. "I know enough. I know you crush her every day and call it 'discipline'. I know you've built her life like a cage and blamed her for gasping for air."
Ratan's silence was no longer cold. It was dangerous.
And then—he moved closer. Just enough for his voice to reach my ear, low and deadly.
"If you want answers… the truth about her, about me… meet me. Tomorrow. Midnight. Behind the old church."
I didn't move.
"She must not know," he added. "She hears even a whisper, and the deal's off."
With one last look at Reyza—broken, unconscious—he turned and walked away.
No apology. No shame.
Just shadows in his wake.
And I was left there… holding her.
And wondering what the hell he meant by "the truth."