Adyant didn’t move. He stood by the flickering fireplace, the orange glow catching the sharp angles of his face and the dark, predatory intensity in his eyes. He watched her—really watched her—not as a debtor, but as a woman who had just walked into his trap with her head held high.

"The books are closed, Parwati," he said, his voice dropping to a low, rhythmic growl that seemed to vibrate in the small space between them. "But the debt isn't gone. It has simply... changed form."