After dinner, when everyone had gone to their rooms, Rupali stood outside Roman's door and knocked.
"It's open. Come in," Roman said without looking up.
He was sitting on the couch, reading something, the dim lamp casting a golden hue on his sharp features. When he finally looked up, his gaze locked on the woman standing before him.
Rupali stepped inside. She wore a deep maroon lace gown, hugging her body in all the right places. It was the kind of dress meant to be seen, not slept in. The faint scent of expensive perfume followed her — light, but lingering. Her hair was tied neatly in a bun, framing her face in a way that whispered maturity… and temptation.
Roman's eyes traced her figure from head to toe, calm and expressionless. He didn't smile. He didn't even blink.
"Aunt," he said finally, voice like ice. "What brings you here this late?"
Rupali didn't waste time.
"I know about your arrangement with Suzen," she said, her voice steady but laced with urgency. "And I want in."
Roman narrowed his eyes. "You want in?"
She nodded. "Yes. I'm not here to play games. I want a safe future for me and my daughters. I'll do whatever it takes."
Roman leaned back, resting his arm on the edge of the couch. He looked at her like a butcher looks at meat — calm, detached, measuring.
"And what makes you think," he said slowly, "you have the right to demand anything from me?"
His tone was sharp — so sharp it cut straight through her confidence.
Rupali flinched, visibly shaken. No man had ever spoken to her like that. They usually melted around her, eager to please. This boy — this young man — talked like a king speaking to a beggar.
"I didn't mean it like that," she said quickly, softening her tone. "I just want safety for my daughters. For myself. I know you can give it. That's why I'm here. I'm offering myself in return."
Roman let out a cold laugh.
"And what makes you think I want your body?" he asked. "Why should I protect you or your daughters? I already have two women who offer me everything I need. Why should I care about you?"
He stood up slowly and walked toward her, step by step. His presence felt heavier with each step.
"You came here thinking you could manipulate me," Roman spoke in a measured but sharp tone.But you don't have anything I want. Not your fake seduction, not your whining, not your pathetic trade."
He pointed at the door.
"Pack your bags. You and your daughters. Out of my house by morning."
Rupali froze.
What?"
"You heard me," he said, turning away again. "I don't shelter leeches. Especially arrogant ones."
She stood there, stunned. Her breath caught in her throat.
No man had ever rejected her like this. Especially not when she had offered herself. Men usually tripped over themselves for a glance from her — but this? This was humiliation.
Her knees buckled, and she dropped to the floor.
"Wait—Roman… please…" her voice cracked now, desperate and shaking. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that. Please… I just… I just wanted to protect my daughters. I didn't know how else to ask. You're the only one strong enough… smart enough… cruel enough to survive what's coming. I know that."
Tears slid down her cheeks as she dropped her pride.
"I'll do anything. Anything you ask. I'll serve you. Obey you. Let me prove myself. Just give me a chance."
Roman looked down at her, expressionless.
"So now you beg."
Rupali nodded, humiliated, mascara streaked from her eyes.
Her voice cracked as she spoke the next part.
"Any play, any act, anything at all… I'm open to it."
Roman looked down at her, unmoved.
"You women really are something," he said. "First, you act high and mighty, demanding like you're some kind of royalty. And the moment you don't get what you want, you switch. Start begging, crying, using that 'poor helpless woman' card like it means something."
He crouched down in front of her and tilted her chin up with his fingers.
"You say you want protection… but all you're offering me is your body. That's it?" he said coldly. "That's all you have to trade for the lives of your daughters?"
Rupali's lips trembled.
"I… I don't have anything else right now," she whispered. "But give me a chance, and I'll prove it. I'm better than any whore or woman you've ever been with. I swear it."
Roman stared into her eyes. Long. Deep. Unblinking.
"Then prove it," he said, his voice almost a whisper now. "Show me what makes you better than a whore."
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Rupali slowly wiped the tears from her cheeks, her hands shaking. Her once-perfect makeup was now ruined, mascara trailing down her face like black rain. She looked fragile — not the seductive woman who had walked in moments ago, but someone broken, stripped of pride.
She stood up on unsteady feet. Her shoulders were trembling. Her eyes — once confident — now looked soft, scared, and pleading.
Roman watched her closely.
There was something almost pitiful in the way she stood there, trying to hold on to her last shred of dignity. And yet, as he looked at her, something stirred deep inside him — not lust, but something darker.
A cruel urge.
The need to drag her deeper, to push her past the edge, to break her from the inside.
To ruin her — completely.
But he didn't act on it. Because she will be dead sooner.
He stayed where he was, watching… waiting.
Rupali took a shaky breath. Then, slowly, silently, she reached for the straps of her maroon gown. Her fingers hesitated for a second.
Then she pulled them down.
The gown slipped from her shoulders, falling down her body around her feet. She didn't speak. She didn't look at him. She just stood there — exposed, quiet, vulnerable.
Come, a command came in a authoritive voice.
And Rupali began to move towards him.
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Author note:-
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