His Revenge Bride: The Billionaire's Deal.

Three words can end a life as you know it. "Qabool hai." And she didn’t even know she was the bride. Alaya sat quietly beside her foster mother, surrounded by women she barely knew—faces full of curiosity, lips whispering, bangles clinking. The air was thick with the scent of roses and expensive perfume, but her mind was miles away. She clutched the edge of her dupatta in her lap, heart pounding in confusion, still trying to make sense of the confussing words her foster mother had said to her that morning. "Just stay inside. Don’t ask too many questions today." Her thoughts were interrupted by a deep voice echoing through the walls. Qazi Sahib: "Qabool hai?" Then a pause for just a heartbeat. Another voice replied. "Qabool hai." Something inside her cracked. "Qabool hai?" "Qabool hai." Her body tensed. Her lips parted slightly, but no sound came. Her breathing deepened. She could hear her heartbeat—like a hammer to her head. The room around her blurred. Voices became a distant hum. Nothing made sense anymore. Tears had already stained her cheeks, but now her eyes were dry—hollow. Her limbs felt heavy, frozen. Her soul, silent. "Qabool hai?" "Qabool hai." Her ears heard it, but her mind didn’t register. Those weren’t just words. They were chains. And whoever the man behind the wall was—he now owned her. She didn’t remember who tried to touch her shoulder. She didn’t feel it when the bangles were slid onto her wrists. She didn’t even realize when someone fixed her dupatta for the “bride’s entrance.” She had just been married. And she didn’t even know to whom.