The thought of what Ishani said did not come to her head. She could not be able to tell whether Vikrant was aware of the reality or not since he had not even told them of their marriage. Ishani continued to gaze shockingly at him.

Vikrant, seeing the bewilderment of her expression, made a crooked smile and puffed again on his cigarette, and said,

"What's wrong? You look surprised. Did you imagine there was another purpose for my bringing you here? Or had I done anything so solemn that I was going to punish you hard at it? Do you scare so now because you think of something silly?

His solemn eyes were fixed on her and his words.

Ishani's face turned pale. She was transported to their wedding night—memories she was attempting to inter permanently. She cleared her throat nervously, and looked at Vikrant and said,

"N-No, it's nothing like that. Why on earth should I do anything of the sort to you? I am not too smart or brave to even consider doing something to a man like you.

Her voice shook, and her fear was very plain on her face.

Vikrant fixed burning eyes on her face. He was attempting to get her to confess indirectly, to get her to tell outright what she had done—but Ishani was doing all in her power to conceal that fact.

Lastly, her head was seen to drop.

"Sir... please, let me go. I have a lot of work to do. I need to go home."

Vikrant's tone hardened.

Did I not just say what I just said? He snapped.

Ishani raised her head a little and glanced at him and said,

Why should you take me as your servant? I've already left my job. I do not want to work in this place any longer.

Her tone raised the tempers of Vikrant, but he controlled himself and spoke in a cold, monotonous tone.

You see, maybe you have forgotten what I said to you: there, I only like anybody who works my way. And what do you mean by not doing things my way? You will get yourself in a big problem.

At this Ishani, without thinking, recalled something Kriti had once told her, namely, keep out of his way as much as possible. Should he ever get to know of you, he will kill you.'

Her heart went all racialized. She put her head down and said hastily,

"I won't be your servant. I don't want to work here. Please open the door. I want to leave."

Her voice shook in fear, and her voice went up.

Vikrant leaned back on the sofa, looking at her.

And why not, he thought? Do you suppose I will not send you out of this place without doing as I say?

Ishani stared at him, with anger and fear mixed in her eyes.

"You can't force me!" she said. "I'm not going to work here. Open the door! I'm leaving right now."

Vikrant lying back, crossed leg, closed eyes, and answered dawdlingly.

"Fine. You see, you may go; you need not be my slave. But do not forget this—when you leave this place, you will find yourself in much greater trouble than you ever thought of before.