The Public Claim

The convoy of black luxury cars screeched to a halt outside City Hospital. Ridhansh’s car led the way, followed by three SUVs packed with armed guards. The sudden stop drew attention, but no one dared to question it.

Inside the car, Ridhansh slowly turned his head toward Gagan.

She sat beside him like a shadow of herself—pale, silent, hollow.

A cruel smile touched his lips.

“Baby doll,” he sneered softly, “wake up from your shock. This is your last chance to see your beloved. Don’t waste it. Who knows… after today, you may never get the privilege of seeing his face again.”

His eyes carried venom. Not jealousy—hatred.

At Kriyansh’s name, Gagan snapped back to reality. She immediately pushed the door open and rushed out of the car.

But before she could take more than two steps, a firm hand gripped her wrist.

She turned.

Ridhansh.

His eyes were dark and warning.

“Don’t even think about going in alone,” he said in a dangerously low voice. “Just as I saved his life, I can take it back. It would take me seconds.”

“You can’t stop me from seeing him!” she cried, fear and fury mixing in her voice.

He stepped out of the car, slammed the door shut, and pinned her against it.

“Listen carefully,” he growled. “I do not like repeating myself. We got married an hour ago. Don’t display this desperation in front of me. Or I might reconsider allowing you to see him.”

His grip tightened on her arm.

“You are mine now. Control yourself.”

“You got what you wanted!” she pleaded, pushing weakly against his chest. “Please… let me go.”

Ridhansh caught her chin harshly and forced her to look into his eyes.

“What I want,” he said coldly, “is not complete yet.”

He leaned closer.

“And who said I’m stopping you? I’m coming with you. I’d like to see the man for whom my wife is so restless.”

He released her face, but not her hand. His grip remained firm as he led her inside the hospital.

Inside the ICU ward, Kriyansh lay unconscious.

The antidote had been administered in time. The blue tint had faded from his face, but he had not regained consciousness yet. Machines beeped steadily around him.

Outside the ward, devastation hung heavy in the air.

Mamata Rajvansh was crying uncontrollably, her body shaking. Garima Shastri tried to console her despite her own fear. Mr. Rajvansh stood silently, eyes moist, shoulders slumped under the weight of shock.

Just hours ago, their families had been celebrating.

Kriyansh had arrived at Gagan’s house with the wedding procession. Music. Laughter. Blessings.

Then suddenly—during the sacred wedding rounds—he collapsed.

At the hospital, doctors discovered a rare toxin in his bloodstream. They had never seen it before. They had no antidote.

Then, mysteriously, another doctor arrived—with the exact counteragent required.

The medicine was administered.

His life was saved.

But none of them knew the price that had been paid.

The sound of approaching footsteps made everyone turn.

Ridhansh entered, holding Gagan’s hand firmly.

The sindoor in her hairline.

The mangalsutra around her neck.

The red bridal attire.

All eyes froze.

“Gagan, beta…” Garima stepped forward anxiously. “Who is this? Why is he holding your hand?”

She tried to free her daughter.

Ridhansh calmly raised his hand to stop her.

“Careful, Mrs. Shastri,” he said coolly. “Or should I say… Mother-in-law?”

The word hit like a slap.

“Your daughter,” he continued smoothly, “is now my wife. Mrs. Gagan Ridhansh Singh Rathod.”

He glanced at Gagan’s mangalsutra deliberately.

“Take a closer look.”

Garima’s eyes widened in disbelief.

The room fell silent.

“What nonsense is this?” Garima snapped angrily. “Leave my daughter!”

She pulled at Gagan’s hand.

Immediately, two guards stepped forward and pointed a gun at her forehead.

“You cannot take the Lady Boss away from our Big Boss,” one of them said coldly. “They are legally married. Here is the proof.”

He displayed a video recording on a tablet—the forced wedding ceremony.

Gasps filled the hallway.

Garima felt the world spin.

Gagan had said she was going to seek help.

But this?

This was betrayal.

Mamata stumbled toward Gagan, clutching her hands desperately.

“Gagan, beta… what is this? Today was your wedding with Kriyansh. You were becoming our daughter-in-law. How could you marry someone else? Why would you betray my son like this? Tell me… what happened?”

Gagan’s throat closed.

She could not speak.

How could she tell them that she had sold herself to save their son’s life?

Mr. Rajvansh stepped forward, his voice trembling with fury.

“What kind of cruelty is this? When my son wakes up, what will happen to him? He will die a living death! Didn’t you think of him even once?”

“Say something!” Mamata cried, shaking Gagan’s shoulders. “Answer us!”

Tears streamed down Gagan’s face. She opened her mouth to speak—

Thapak!

The sound echoed sharply in the corridor.

Garima’s hand had struck her daughter’s cheek.

Everyone stood frozen.

The red mark bloomed instantly against Gagan’s skin.