Revenge in a Red Dress

L --- The chandeliers sparkled above a crowd of rich, perfect strangers. Laughter echoed. Champagne overflowed. Flashbulbs clicked. It was the most glamorous engagement party of the season — hosted by none other than **Aryan Mehra**, Delhi’s most powerful billionaire. And yet, every head turned when **she** walked in. Zaria Khan. Wearing a red silk gown that clung to her curves like a secret, she looked like sin wrapped in silk. Her heels clicked against marble like gunshots. Her lips painted a bold crimson. Her eyes? Cold enough to burn. She didn’t wait for an invitation. She didn’t need one. Five years ago, she was **the girl he left behind**. Today, she was the woman who had returned to **burn his world down**. --- Aryan froze when he saw her. The glass in his hand slipped and shattered. He hadn’t seen her since that night — the night he told her she wasn’t good enough, the night she walked away pregnant and alone, the night he chose power over love. Now, here she was. Alive. Beautiful. Dangerous. “Zaria?” he whispered. She smiled — not warmly, not kindly. “Miss me, fiancé?” Gasps rippled through the room. His current bride-to-be, Tanya, paled. Zaria walked straight to the center of the hall, where the giant engagement cake stood, gold lettering across white frosting. **“Tanya ❤️ Aryan”** With one perfect swipe of her finger, Zaria carved a line straight through his name. “Sorry,” she said with mock sweetness. “I thought this was a party for people who don’t lie, cheat, or destroy lives.” A deadly silence fell. Then Aryan stepped forward. “What do you want?” Zaria turned, her red dress flowing like flames behind her. “Justice,” she said. “And I always collect.” --- ---