The grand dining room in the Chief Minister's official residence was decorated with heavy silk curtains and had polished mahogany walls. The servants moved in silence, filling the crystal glasses, while CM Devraj Singhania sat at the head of the table and exchanged quiet, strategic smiles with MLA Sharma.

Parth was sitting on his father's right and seemed extremely bored. In one hand he had casually rested on the armrest, his thumb gently running along the edge of his signet ring. Although he normally avoided political dinners since they were a chore, tonight his mind was entirely occupied, intensely focused on finding the trembling girl who had walked away from his car the night before. His private security team had already begun to retrieve the CCTV footage from the VIP corridor.

On behalf of my family I have to offer my apologies, Chief Minister Saab, said MLA Sharma, placing one hand over his heart in a manner habitual to showing humility. My daughter, Mrinalini... she wasn't able to come with us this evening. She returned home late last night after suddenly developing a high fever. Her hands were ice cold and trembling terribly.

Parth didn't turn his head from his glass. Another daughter of a fragile politician. He didn't give a damn.

Ah, that is a pity, Sharma ji, the chief minister replied in a smooth tone. Health is a matter of priority. We'll see her another time.

Sharma went on by saying that she had been very keen to pay her respects to you, sir, as he poured compliments over the CM while at the same time watching Parth's indifferent face. She had in fact prepared the policy brief for our joint youth campaign all by herself, but the doctor ordered her to rest since the shock caused by what had happened the previous night had really affected her.

Parth's eyes narrowed a little. High fever, shaking hands, from last night.

He immediately noticed the subtle overlap in his mind, but he kept his face expressionless, drinking his drink in silence. He hadn't quite put the pieces together yet it seemed like a strange coincidence, but his cynical mind dismissed it. For him, the girl from the boulevard was an anomaly, a phantom that he was determined to track down, whereas the daughter of the MLA was just another name on his father's political chessboard.

𝐅𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐇𝐚𝐝 𝐃𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐬

In the Highway at 9 PM

The outer ring road was deserted and completely surrounded by yellow sodium lights together with the loud noise of distant traffic. As Mrinalini ran, her breath caught in her throat and she had now dropped her heels into her hand. Three men from a car which had just passed were following her slowly from behind, shouting offensive remarks and taking pleasure in her growing panic. Her heart was beating very quickly against her ribs—she was stranded, vulnerable, and completely defenceless.

At that moment the night air was shattered by the roar of a heavy engine.

The bike, which was black, sped past the group of harassers, sharply cutting across the lane and scraping the tarmac as it skidded to a sudden stop on its side directly in front of Mrinalini. The headlights were so bright that she had to raise a hand to protect her eyes.

Although the rider switched off the engine he did not take off his helmet at once.

The three men immediately halted, looking carefully at the single biker. Hey, get away from him, buddy, that's none of your business——

He unbuckled his helmet and in one smooth movement took it off, then ran a hand through his dark hair. Parth turned his head and his cold, piercing eyes met those of Mrinalini.

For Parth the entire week of searching in vain disappeared at once, and there stood in front of him the girl who had appeared on the boulevard, breathing rapidly, with messy hair and pale from fear.

Get in line, Parth told the group, speaking in a chillingly calm voice and paying no attention to the men as he kept his eyes fixed on her. He swung his long leg over the bike and stepped into their path. No matter what you think you're doing, you're breathing my air.

In less than two minutes Parth made it extremely clear who he was without raising his voice or losing his composure; by making a single phone call from his pocket, addressing the local ACP by name and he caused the group to go pale and retreat back into their car, from where they sped off into the dark.

Parth turned back towards Mrinalini and took a step nearer to her. You have the habit of going into dangerous places late at night.

Mrinalini's face was filled only with pure terror. She did not see a saviour; instead she saw the same cold stranger who had nearly run her down a week before, a man strong enough to make the police bend with just a single phone call.

He's just the same; he'll only take advantage of me.

When Parth reached out to grasp her wrist, Mrinalini immediately took three quick and desperate steps backwards, raised her hands and moved back into the shadow of the highway shoulder, trembling all over once more.

Parth halted dead in his tracks, watching her move away from him. Her lips were open and her chest was rising and falling with quick breaths, yet no sound came from her throat. There were no pleas, no curses, and no explanations.

He observed the tremor in her hands and the genuine fear shown in her posture. In his experience, people were either screaming, begging, or attempting to bribe their way out; she didn't do any of those things.

Parth realized that she couldn't speak, and a rather dark sense of satisfaction came over him. That is the reason why she kept quiet last week. She is mute.

If you want to stay quiet,Parth said, lowering his voice to a thin, commanding tone as he covered the distance between them in two long strides. You're not walking on this highway by yourself.

Before she could move any further back, he firmly clamped his big hand around her upper arm. Although his grip was not intended to cause pain, it left her no possibility of resisting. Mrinalini became stiff and her heart began to beat rapidly against her ribs as he pulled her gently but without giving in towards his bike.

He took the spare helmet that was hanging from the side frame and pushed it over her head, fastening the strap himself underneath her chin. As his fingers touched her throat, she shuddered.

Wait, he said, swinging his long leg over the tank and giving the heavy engine a kick-start. Or else you can fall off—your choice.

Because she was panic-stricken and had no other choice, Mrinalini got onto the back seat. When the bike kicked into life and sped forward at an incredibly fast rate, fear caused her to clasp her trembling arms tightly around his waist and hide her face in his leather jacket so as to block out the rushing wind.

Parth felt the tight and desperate hold of her hands on his middle section while he was driving, and a dark, possessive smirk appeared on his lips as he looked in the rearview mirror with one hand loosely placed on the handlebar.

Parth stopped the bike close to the brightly lit intersection which bordered the VIP district. As soon as the engine had stopped, Mrinalini released her hold on his waist and almost jumped off the seat. Although her knees were shaky, the strong desire to get away kept her from falling.

Her hands were shaking so much that she couldn't unlatch it and she fumbled with the helmet strap.

Parth got off the bike without saying anything, standing above her as he easily unclipped the strap and picked the helmet off her head. Holding her close, he looked at her flushed face and dark, wide eyes under the bright light of the street lamp.

From his leather jacket he pulled a high-end smartphone, unlocked it and held it out to her, then opened a blank note app.

Parth ordered them to write their name and their number, his voice being smooth, cold, and completely unused to being questioned.

Mrinalini looked at the glass screen and then at him. A panic surged in her chest. For if I give him my details he will discover who my father is; or even worse, he will come looking for me.

With icy, trembling fingers she picked up the phone and typed quickly, lowering her head so as not to meet his intense stare. She then handed the device back immediately, stepped into the shade offered by the sidewalk, and turned on her heel, walking away as fast as her legs would allow before he had a chance to look at the screen.

Parth didn't go after her right away; instead he stayed by his heavy bicycle and looked at his phone.

There was never a name and never a ten-digit phone number.

Just five words typed in neat, hurried script:

Thank you for saving me.

A slow and dangerous smile spread across Parth's face, and just as he looked up, she vanished around the corner of the heavy security gates which guarded the high-profile ministerial residences.

She believed herself to be being clever and she thought that a quiet note would bring the matter to an end.

He thanked himself as he locked his phone and put it back in his jacket. You're welcome, my dearest. But you still belong to me.