AUTHOR POV:

Somewhere

Night time

The four cars, like dark stallions, come to a halt in front of the ancient mansion, their engines sputtering into silence.

The guards, like loyal sentinels, pour out of the vehicles, their eyes scanning the surroundings with a mix of vigilance and unease.

They take up positions around the perimeter, their bodies taut with anticipation.

One guard, like a loyal servant, approaches the Mercedes,

his hand reaching out to open the back door with a reverence that speaks of the occupant's importance. And then, she emerges.

The girl in black.

Her aura is a dark cloud that precedes her, a palpable force that seems to draw the very light out of the air.

Her suit is a black armor that seems to shimmer in the moonlight, her brown eyes gleaming like polished onyx.

Her beauty is a weapon, honed to perfection, and her presence is a declaration of dominance.

She walks into the mansion, her heels clicking against the old wood like a death knell, the sound echoing through the stillness like a challenge. The guards follow closely behind, their eyes fixed on her with a mix of awe and trepidation.

She moves with the grace of a panther, her movements economical and precise, as if she knows that every step she takes is a declaration of her power.

She enters the room, her gaze fixed on the man bound to the chair, his eyes sunken, his skin pale. He begs for death, his voice barely audible, but she shows no emotion.

She sits on the couch, crossing her legs with a regal grace, her eyes fixed on the man with an unnerving intensity. Her face is a mask of stone, her eyes burning with an inner fire that seems to pierce the very soul.

She is the Devil Queen, a monarch of the night, and this is her domain. And no one dares to defy her.

As the man in his late twenties approaches the Devil Queen, his calm tone belies the tension in the air.

"Boss, he's not saying anything," he reports, his eyes fixed on the man bound to the chair.

The Devil Queen's gaze remains fixed on the prisoner, her eyes burning with an intensity that seems to pierce the very soul.

With a slight nod, she issues a command, her voice cold and detached. "Pour cold water."

The guards spring into action, pouring the icy liquid over the man's head, his body jerking in response as his skin burns from the sudden change in temperature.

The man's laughter is maniacal, his eyes gleaming with a mix of fear and defiance as he taunts the Devil Queen.

"So the great Devil Queen has come for me," he jeers, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

But the Devil Queen remains unfazed, her expression unreadable, her voice cold and dominating.

"So, I don't think you should have any hope that your boss will save you," she says, her words dripping with disdain.

The man's laughter ceases, his eyes widening in fear as his body aches from the cold water. He tries to taunt her again, but his words are laced with a mix of fear and desperation.

The Devil Queen's patience wears thin, her voice commanding.

"Enough with your nonsense talk. Now, tell me where he is." The air is thick with tension, the man's fate hanging precariously in the balance as the Devil Queen's gaze bore into his very soul.

In this moment, the Devil Queen is a force to be reckoned with, her power and dominance evident in every gesture, every word.

The man bound to the chair is nothing but a pawn in her game, a mere mortal caught in the crosshairs of her wrath.

And as the cold water continues to pour over him, his body aching, his skin burning, he knows that he is at the mercy of the Devil Queen, a monarch of the night, a queen of darkness and despair.

The Devil Queen's demand hangs in the air like a sword of Damocles, threatening to strike down the man at any moment.

"Now, tell me his real name," she commands, her voice firm and unyielding.

But the man is torn, his mind racing with the consequences of his actions. If he tells her the truth, will she spare his life, or will she simply use the information to further her own agenda? And if he doesn't tell her, will she continue to torture him, as she has for the past month?

As he hesitates, a deep voice echoes in his mind, a voice that seems to sense his inner turmoil.

."I will leave you alone if you tell me about his real identity," the Devil Queen promises, her words dripping with persuasion.

The man's eyes lock onto hers, searching for any sign of deception, any hint that she might be bluffing. But the Devil Queen's gaze is unwavering, her eyes burning with an intensity that seems to pierce the very soul.

"Kill me," he says with a heavy heart, his voice barely above a whisper. He closes his eyes, accepting his fate, knowing that death is preferable to betraying his boss's trust.

The Devil Queen's eyes gleam with a cold, calculating light as she rises from the couch and approaches him. Her high heel digs into his foot, causing him to scream in pain, but she remains unfazed, her expression devoid of emotion.

She takes the gun from the guard and presses it against his forearm, where the eagle tattoo marks him as one of Lucifer's loyal men.

She observes the tattoo with a calculating gaze, knowing that only Lucifer's men bear this mark.

"Tell me his real name," she hisses, her voice dripping with venom.

"Tell me, or I'll show you hell on earth, even if it means killing you and sending you to the depths of hell."

The man's screams are music to her ears as she shoots the gun, the bullet piercing his forearm. He begs for death, his eyes filled with tears, but the Devil Queen is unmoved.

"Kill me, I will choose death before breaking my boss's trust," he pleads, his voice cracking with pain.

The Devil Queen smirks, impressed by the man's loyalty. "As you wish," she says, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

With a cold, calculated movement, she raises the gun and shoots him in the forehead, his body jerking as he falls to the ground, his life slipping away.

The Devil Queen's eyes gleam in the moonlight as she walks away from the lifeless body, her heels clicking on the marble floor. "Clean the mess," she orders, her voice detached from the brutality she just inflicted.

As she steps out of the mansion, the cool night air caresses her skin, and she gazes up at the moon, her mind racing with strategies to uncover more information about Lucifer's whereabouts. "Dig more information about his men's," she instructs her loyal subordinate, her voice firm and commanding. "I'm sure even a trace will lead me to him."

The man in his late twenties nods, his eyes fixed on her with a mix of admiration and fear.

He opens the back door of the car, and she slides in, her movements graceful and calculated. The car purrs to life, and they glide into the city, the Devil Queen's mind already spinning with plans to track down her elusive prey.



INAYA POV:

New york

Penthouse

My eyes fluttered open to the jarring sound of alarms blaring in my ear. I groggily reached over to turn them off, then sat up in bed, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. The clock on my nightstand read 7:00 AM. Great, another early morning.

I swung my legs over the side of the bed and stood up, stretching my arms over my head. After a quick 15-minute routine in the bathroom, I emerged feeling refreshed and ready to tackle the day. I slipped on my bathrobe and made my way to the wardrobe, where I chose a sleek blue suit to wear.tie hair in bun



As I headed downstairs, the click of my heels on the marble floor echoed through the hallway. My secretary, Meera, looked up from her laptop and gave me a warm smile. "Good morning, ma'am," she said, her voice respectful.

" Scheduled," I replied, walking towards the dining area. Meera followed close behind, her eyes fixed on me.

"You have a meeting with a new investor, Mr. Thomas, and some important project discussions," she reminded me, her tone professional.

I nodded, taking a seat at the dining table as the servants began to serve breakfast. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods filled the air, and I dug in, savoring the flavors. Another busy day lay ahead, but I was ready..

As I finish breakfast, I head towards the lift, bound for my New York penthouse. Let me introduce myself -

I'm Inaya Shaik, daughter of Shaizan Shaik, and my family resides in India. At 24, I'm living alone in the city, but my journey began 14 years ago when my grandfather, Rahaman Shaik, and his wife moved with me to New York. When I turned 18, my grandfather suggested I start a company, and I poured my ideas into Mirae Industries, now a multi-million dollar empire. I'm the CEO, and my focus on the company has been relentless, unlike my peers who enjoyed their university years. Those eight years were hell for me, but my grandfather's promise kept me going - he'd hand over the reins of INK Empire, a multi-billion dollar company in India, in exchange for eight years of my life. I still miss my family, my mom, dad, sister, elder brother, and younger brother,my--

My thoughts are interrupted by Meera's request, "Ma'am, I want to go to India for two weeks..." I know why she's asking - the festivals are coming up, and she lives alone here. At 27, she's like a big sister to me, and I rely heavily on her to manage my tight schedule. She's the only one who can keep up with me.

"Meera, not again!" I say, frustration creeping into my voice. "You know how stressful it will be for me without you?" I shake my head in disbelief as she gives me those puppy eyes that always melt my heart. I sigh, knowing I can't resist her request.

As I step out of the lift, I stride towards the Range Rover, my guard opening the back door for me. I settle in, Meera sitting beside me in the passenger seat. The driver navigates through the bustling streets of New York City, the skyscrapers blurring together as we make our way to Mirae Industries. I gaze out the window, my mind wandering to the vast empire I've built, with branches spanning across India and other countries. My teams have done an exceptional job, and I've never needed to visit India in the past 14 years.

But my thoughts are tinged with a hint of sadness. Four years ago, my grandfather and grandmother returned to India, and they've spent every year since then visiting for 5-6 months. But this time, they didn't come. It's been four years since I've seen them, and even my grandmother's love and affection seem to have dwindled. My grandfather's behavior has become almost rude, and I can't help but feel a pang of hurt.

I push aside these thoughts as we arrive at Mirae Industries. The lobby is luxurious, with a cold aura that commands attention.

My heels click on the marble floor, and my presence is met with a chorus of greetings from the staff. Meera follows closely behind me, but I barely acknowledge the nods and smiles, my focus fixed on reaching my private office.

As I stepped into my cabin, I was already in work mode, my mind racing with the day's tasks. Meetings, deals, and new projects - it was just another day in the life of a CEO. I smiled to myself, a small, triumphant smile, as I opened the wallpaper on my phone. I dialed Luca, my trusted ally, and asked, "Did you find anything?" His response was curt, "No," but I hummed, my mind already racing with the next step.

"We found that he lives in India," he said, and my heart skipped a beat.

"Find more," I ordered, my voice cold and dominating.

Just then, the door burst open, and Safiya, my best friend, walked in, holding her baby tummy .

She plopped down on the sofa, grabbed a chocolate from the glass table, and exclaimed, "Now this is what he did!" I knew her husband, Hussain, had done something to upset her - again. She was five months pregnant, and her mood swings were legendary.

I rose from my chair and sat beside her, asking, "What did he do this time?" She launched into a tirade, her eyes moist, her voice trembling. I listened patiently, knowing that she was both sad and angry at the same time. Finally, she ended with, "I asked him for Pani Puri," and I burst out laughing. She gave me a side-eye, and I stopped, my stomach aching from the laughter.

Just then, the door burst open again, and Hussain, the great criminal lawyer, walked in, his face a picture of innocence.

"Sofi, my love, listen to me," he began, but Safiya cut him off with a sharp,

"Kutta ho tum!" (You're a dog!). I laughed again, unable to help myself.

"Hussain's eyes turned into puppy eyes, his voice dripping with sincerity,

"Jo bhi tum, sirf tumara hu" (Whatever is yours, is only yours). He was trying to melt Safiya's heart, but she was having none of it.

"Acha, toh jite gaye aapna case?" (Oh, so you've won your case?) she burst out in anger, her voice rising as she walked towards him, her hands grasping for his collar.

I watched with wide eyes, my mind racing with the drama unfolding before me.

Safiya's anger was palpable, her eyes flashing with fury as she towered over Hussain. He, on the other hand, seemed unfazed, his expression a mix of calm and contrition.

The air was thick with tension, the only sound being Safiya's heavy breathing and Hussain's soft murmurs of placation.

I held my breath, wondering what would happen next.some give me popcorn

Safiya: (furiously) "You didn't get me Pani Puri?! How could you, Shammer?!"

Shammer: (calmly) "Sofi, my love, I was busy winning a case. I didn't have time for snacks."

Safiya: (outraged) "Snacks?! Pani Puri is not just a snack, it's a way of life! And you deprived me of it?"

Shammer: (teasingly) "Oh, I see. So, you're saying that Pani Puri is more important than our relationship?"

Safiya: (defiantly) "Right now, yes! It's all about priorities, Shammer."

Shammer: (laughing) "Okay, okay. I'll make it up to you. But only if you promise to forgive me and not use your famous 'bombastic side-eye' on me."

Safiya: (pausing, her mood shifting) "Hmm... okay. But you have to take me to the best Pani Puri stall in New York."

Shammer: (grinning) "Deal! And I'll even eat it with you, despite my dislike for it."

Safiya: (laughing) "Oh, you're such a liar! You love Pani Puri as much as I do!"

Inaya: (watching them, amused) "You two are something else. I'm just glad I get to enjoy the show."

Safiya: (turning to Inaya) "Hey, don't think you're exempt from this conversation! You're always so calm and collected. How do you do it?"

Inaya: (smiling) "Well, someone has to keep the peace around here. Besides, I find that laughter and good food can solve most problems."

Shammer: (jokingly) "That's why we need to get Inaya to mediate our Pani Puri disputes from now on."

Safiya: (laughing) "Agreed! And Shammer, you're buying the first round of Pani Puri."

Shammer: (grinning) "Deal!"

As we were laughing, my phone rang. I rose from the couch and walked towards the table.

Seeing my grandfather's name on the caller ID, my heart skipped a beat and my face turned pale. I knew that if he was calling me again, it was because he wanted something from me.

He only calls me once every two months to confirm that I'm alive or dead. Now, why was he calling me again? Did I do something wrong? Was he calling to warn me to stay away from them? With a heavy heart, I slid the green button and put the phone to my ear. "Assalam walikum, Inaya," he said in a cold tone.

"Walikum assalam, Dadu," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper.

I turned to Safiya and Shammer, who became silent, their faces worried. "You're coming to India," he dropped the bombshell.

My eyes widened in shock. He had never asked me to come to India before.

Whenever I asked to go home, he would reply rudely, leaving no answer for me.

"But why, Dadu?" I asked, wanting to scream, but my voice came out in a whisper.

"You're coming, that's it." With that, he cut the call. I sighed, feeling frustrated and scared."

"I'm going to India," I said in a low voice.

Safiya screamed, "What the hell! Are you serious, girl? Finally, you'll meet your family!" She was excited, but I knew she didn't understand the truth. I had been living away from my family for the past 14 years, and only I knew why.

"Inaya, what is your grandfather planning now?" Shammer asked in a strict tone. Safiya and I met in university, and we had been friends for four years. They got married last year after graduation, and I will be turning 25 in a month. I was afraid of what my grandfather might do this time.

"Inaya, you're not going," Shammer said, knowing what had happened eight years ago. Safiya didn't know about it, but Shammer was like a brother to me, and even Safiya's family lived in India.

"Why, Inaya, don't you want to meet your family?" Safiya asked, but I shook my head i

n silence. How could I explain to them that I couldn't live without my mom, that I couldn't even bear to be away from her for a second? It had been 14 years since we last saw each other, and not a word had been spoken between us.