The Kapoor mansion stood cloaked in an oppressive darkness, its once-grand entrance now a battleground for despair. The humid night air pressed heavily on Aaradhya's skin, but it was the suffocating weight of anguish in her chest that threatened to choke her. The house was surrounded by a sea of black, Karan's guards standing like silent sentinels, rifles poised and ready.
Aaradhya knelt on the cold marble floor, her trembling hands pressed desperately against the gaping wound in her father's abdomen. Blood seeped through her fingers, staining the pristine white of Rajan Kapoor's kurta. He was barely breathing, his chest rising and falling in shallow, labored gasps. The proud man who had once commanded rooms with his presence was now reduced to a broken, bleeding shell.

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