Revenge of Toxic Ruthless billionaire

A Dashing Encounter A young man, around 23-24 years old, sat confidently on a round chair, one leg crossed over the other. He held a cigarette in his hand, taking slow drags while his sharp, brown eyes were fixed on a girl huddled in the corner of the room. The girl, appearing to be a college student, seemed about 18 or 19 years old. She wore a traditional red bridal lehenga adorned with heavy jewelry, which made her look stunning yet out of place. With a chilling calmness and a husky voice that sent shivers down her spine, the man spoke: "Hello, little doll... Welcome to wonderful hell." His eerie laughter echoed through the room as he leaned back, enjoying her visible discomfort. The girl shrank further into herself, her deep black eyes reflecting confusion and emptiness. Suddenly, the man stopped laughing and glared at her with intense anger. "What’s the matter? Are you scared? It’s only been two hours since our wedding, and you’re already terrified. Brace yourself, wifey—this is just the beginning." This was Abeer Arya, dressed impeccably in a black suit paired with a white shirt, the top three buttons undone, revealing his broad chest. Standing at 6’2” with a model-like physique, fair skin, and piercing brown eyes, he was as intimidating as he was handsome. He tossed the cigarette aside, stood up, and walked toward the girl—Charvi Singhania. Kneeling before her, he grabbed her face tightly in one hand, his jaw clenched with fury. "You enjoyed ruining someone’s life, didn’t you? Burning down a happy home? Now watch how these flames consume you." He shoved her face aside in anger and stormed out of the room, leaving red marks on her cheeks from his grip. Terrified, Charvi curled into herself, her small face hidden in her knees. Abeer walked into a private mini-bar in his mansion, running a hand through his hair. Opening a bottle of wine, he took a long sip, his mind replaying the image of Charvi’s frightened, tear-streaked face. This mansion, beautifully decorated with colorful lights for their wedding, felt eerily silent. Despite the grandeur, it bore an unsettling calm, hinting at an impending storm. Lost in his thoughts, Abeer was jolted back to reality by the sound of something falling. He turned to see Charvi cautiously descending the stairs, her heavy lehenga gathered in her hands. She was limping slightly, clearly injured, her eyes darting around as if searching for something. Abeer’s jaw tightened as his eyes narrowed. He silently followed her. Just as she stumbled, tangled in her lehenga, he grabbed her wrist, pulling her toward him. Her small face collided with his firm chest. "Trying to run away, are we?" he growled, his voice booming with anger. Charvi stared at him blankly for a moment before averting her gaze, her silence further infuriating him. Dragging her down the stairs, he threw her onto the sofa in the hall, causing her to collide with the armrest. Struggling to compose herself, Charvi’s eyes landed on a jug of water on the side table. Grabbing it, she gulped down the water desperately, her actions almost frantic. Abeer watched her in silence, his brow furrowed. He couldn’t comprehend her behavior—was she scared, or was this defiance? His phone rang, breaking the tension. After a brief conversation, a smirk spread across his face. Turning to Charvi, he said coldly, "Come on, little doll. It’s time to meet your dear brother. After all, shouldn’t he enjoy the wedding celebrations too?" Ignoring her silence, Abeer grabbed her wrist and dragged her outside, shoving her into his sleek black Rolls Royce before speeding off. Charvi stared blankly out the window, watching trees and houses blur past, her expression unreadable. The car halted in front of a grand building with the words "Toxic Castle" displayed in stylish lettering. Abeer stepped out, pulling Charvi along with him. They walked past a line of bodyguards who bowed respectfully as Abeer passed. Descending into the underground basement, Charvi’s wide eyes took in the dark, intimidating surroundings. They entered a dimly lit room where a young man, about 25, was tied to a pillar. His body was bruised, and his groans echoed in the silence. Whistling nonchalantly, Abeer circled the man and sneered, "Enjoying your stay in Abeer Arya’s captivity, dear brother-in-law?" The man struggled to open his eyes, his gaze shifting to Charvi, who stood frozen, staring at him. What did Charvi and her brother do to deserve Abeer’s wrath? Will Abeer succeed in his revenge? To find out, stay tuned for the next chapter.