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Aditya was as pissed as he could ever be. The shipments that he wanted delivered were stolen by Mexicans. He fumed sitting in his chair. He put the sheet filled with notes on a pile of papers on his desk and focused on the numbers on his laptop screen.

"Call Ashish." He leaned back in his chair and looked at Kasim, who was sitting on the other side of the desk. "I need him to teach those losers a lesson for stealing from me."

"He is already on it. Their leader is in our custody now."

"Good. Now tell me what happened because I know that look well and I don't like it."

"Manas Advani embezzled two crores. Our money."

Aditya sighed and shook his head. He knew that name very well. His wife's uncle and a leach who lives off her. He is the only close family she has, but he was an alcoholic who gambled so much that he lost all his money.

A year ago when Shradha had asked him for a favour to hire her uncle as their real estate mediator, he never expected this would happen. It was the only thing she had ever requested from him and the only thing he actually considered and look where it got him.

How much of an idiot would dare to steal the money from the Kapoors? Sometimes he was amazed by people's stupidity. But then again he expected nothing more from his wife's family.

"Can he pay back?" He asked.

Kasim shook his head negatively.

"Kill him. And make an example out of him." Aditya said without a second thought. Not caring that Manas was his wife's last family member alive. Not caring about how she would react.

Kasim nodded without any questions. He liked the quality of the old man. He never asked questions that were unnecessary. He never stepped out of line even though he was the one who trained Aditya ever since childhood. He was his mentor. But never questioned any of his decisions. Because he knew that Aditya always made the right choice.

Growing up, he looked up to Kasim more than he did with his father. Aditya's father was never available for him. He never cared about his family. He was out there making money while giving away his three sons to his men to train and raise into blood thirsty men. They were Made Men now.

And Aditya had an empire to run now. A city all in his control.

His father passed, not taking any of the money he hungrily made to the grave. What a pity! The man never had any filial love for his wife or children.

Sometimes Aditya pitied his mother, for she was often abused at the hands of his father. Ashish was just a toddler then. There were nights where he would bring in women to take to bed while their mother watched helplessly.

One night he brought in a baby. A child he claimed as his own. Aditya's mother had indifference towards that child at first but gradually she learned to live with being the mother of another woman's son. Arjun was his youngest brother, and though Ashish and Aditya did not share the same mother with Arjun, they treated him no less than that.

Blood was blood. And they remained loyal to blood.

Kasim excused himself shortly and Aditya looked at his phone as a notification popped up.

When will you be home?

A text from his wife. This was a routine for them.

I'll be late. Don't stay up for me.

He texted back putting the phone away and sighing. It made a sound again and he knew that it was the usual 'okay' text from her.

Shradha has been an ideal wife. She warmed his bed, gave him pleasure that he didn't seek from any other women, stood by his side all along like what it expected of her and this alliance. She never made any complaints and wasn't demanding.

She knew her place.

Life with her for the past two years hasn't changed anything. Before and after her felt the same for him. Except he now had a woman who would stay up for him at nights if he wanted and provide him pleasure anytime of the day. It wasn't like he didn't have any sex before marriage, but after her, he never felt the need to seek pleasure from any other women.

She was enough.

But did he love her? The answer was no. He didn't. He could never love a woman. He had established that on their wedding night and she understood it pretty clearly. She did not ask questions that were not required or never tried to nag him about anything. He tolerated her.

He wondered if he was turning out to be like his father who didn't love his wife. But he quickly shook off those thoughts. He was nothing like his father. He treated her well, and took responsibility for his actions.

When he finished work, it was pretty late. He reached home past midnight and quietly made it upstairs. The lights were off inside the room and he expected Shradha to be fast asleep. But she wasn't. When he opened the door, she was sitting in bed, going through something on her phone.

She immediately stood up as he entered and turned on the lights.
He wondered why she was draped in a saree. She rarely wore those except when his mother wanted her to. But damn did she look good in it!

Closing the door he moved towards the closet, taking out comfortable clothes for the night and headed towards the bathroom when she  stopped him by holding his wrist.

Puzzled, he raised an eyebrow at her.

"You killed him, didn't you?" She stuttered with her words but somehow managed to ask that question. She was so close that Aditya could smell the lavender shower gel she uses.

"No. My men killed him." He said not missing a syllable. He noticed the shock that made her eyes widen. Sighing, he took the hands that held his wrist, in his. He didn't know how to comfort her, the only thing he knew was to make her scream his name in bed.

"He lied to me. Stole from me. Betrayed the loyalty he had. I don't like people who lie to me. Even if it's your uncle."

She gulped, something unknown dancing in her expressions. She was scared. Aditya knew he intimidated her and he liked it that way. He liked the fear she had for him. Kept her in check not to ever cross with him or betray him.

"I told you not to stay up."

"I couldn't sleep. Uncle had called me before he... he was killed." she still had fear and was even shivering a bit.  Aditya took pity, he felt his heart soften a bit at the innocence his wife displayed. She was too naive for the world he lived in.

His eyes trailed down from her eyes to her quivering lips. They seemed inviting. All he wanted was to drag her by the throat and kiss the breath out of her. She was an alluring woman. Beautiful. Sexy.

The low cut of her blouse displayed an ample amount of cleavage for him and the saree was loose against the shoulders. Perfect for him to take off. She was waiting like a gift for him, ready for him to unwrap and ravish.

But not tonight. Not when she was grieving her uncle's passing.

Sighing he moved to the bathroom, ignoring her like he did most of the time.

Sighing he moved to the bathroom, ignoring her like he did most of the time

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