Chapter 1 The Fourth Bride



The grand ballroom of the Oberoi Palace Hotel shimmered beneath crystal chandeliers. White lilies, ivory roses, and golden candles lined the aisle, creating the illusion of a perfect fairy-tale wedding.

Yet no one was smiling.

Guests whispered behind expensive fans and champagne glasses.

"She's too young."

"They say the last three wives disappeared."

"Do you think she knows?"

"Poor girl..."

The murmurs spread through the hall like wildfire.

At the centre of it all stood Aarav Oberoi.

Six feet three.

Tailored black sherwani.

A face that looked as though it had forgotten how to smile.

The heir to the Oberoi empire.

One of the youngest billionaires in the country.

And the man every newspaper had nicknamed—

The Husband of Vanished Brides.

He ignored the whispers.

He always did.

His dark eyes remained fixed on the sacred fire before him, expression unreadable.

Marriage had never been his choice.

Neither had the previous three.

This one was no different.

The priest glanced toward the entrance.

"The bride has arrived."

Every head turned.

The ballroom fell silent.

She stepped inside, dressed in a crimson bridal lehenga embroidered with gold. A sheer veil covered her face, but nothing could hide the quiet confidence in her walk.

She didn't rush.

She didn't tremble.

She didn't look around.

It was almost as if...

...she had already walked this path before.

Aarav watched her approach.

Something felt... strange.

Not familiar.

Not comforting.

Just... unsettling.

She stopped beside him.

The priest began chanting the wedding mantras.

The ceremony moved forward.

Seven vows.

Seven circles around the sacred fire.

Seven promises exchanged between two strangers.

When it was over, applause filled the ballroom.

Cameras flashed from every direction.

"Look at the bride!"

"Over here!"

"Sir, one smile please!"

Neither of them smiled.

The photographer hesitated before speaking again.

"Ma'am... could you please lift your veil?"

The bride slowly raised her hands.

The room held its breath.

She lowered the veil.

Soft features.

Calm brown eyes.

A face untouched by fear.

She looked directly at Aarav.

For a brief moment...

Time seemed to stop.

His heartbeat faltered.

Not because she was beautiful.

Because something about her eyes stirred a memory he couldn't reach.

He frowned.

Have we met before?

Before he could speak, she offered a small, polite smile.

"Congratulations... husband."

Her voice was gentle.

Steady.

As though marrying the most feared man in the country meant nothing to her.

For the first time in years...

Aarav was the one who felt uneasy.

Miles away...

Inside the centuries-old Oberoi Mansion...

An elderly woman sat alone in a dimly lit room.

In her trembling hands rested an old photograph.

Four children smiled at the camera.

Three faces were clear.

The fourth child's face had been violently scratched away.

The old woman traced the damaged photograph with her fingertips.

Tears filled her eyes.

At last...

She whispered,

"The fourth bride has come home."

Then she looked toward the dark corridor behind her.

"You don't have much time left."

A floorboard creaked.

Someone else was in the room.

End of Chapter 1

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