"What's your expectations from this marriage?" Ranvijay spoke in his cold voice looking at his wife Myra. If she wasn't a doubtful Italian girl, he wouldn't waste a chance to claim her beautiful pink lips. Every part of her body was enough to drive any man crazy. People could die happily just by looking at her eyes. Ranvijay had a big doubt that Myra already had plenty of admirers.

"Niente in quanto tale."

Nothing as such

Hearing the first sentence from his newly wedded wife Ranvijay frowned.

"Pardon. I mean nothing as such." Myra rectified while looking down on the floor with her heavy lehenga and golden and diamond jewelleries.

"So you're obsessed, traitor father didn't even teach you English or Hindi properly?"

"I know English, and partially Hindi too." Well she lied on the Hindi part to save herself from embarrassment. She was no longer interested to look for Randhir or Arjun who would translate for her.

"I can see. I wonder how your father could say that you are his daughter. Illegitimate daughter for sure." Ranvijay put a stress on the last part of the sentence.

"Excuse me. I think you are now crossing all the boundaries of mannerisms. I am half Indian and half Italian. I am the legal daughter of Rana Pratap Singh Solanki."

"And that is why you have to suffer. This marriage is a part of the contract. Don't be so happy about it. Your father made the biggest mistake of his life and to reimburse that he chose you to send in our family as per our age-old tradition. But the only difference in this case is, you would not be treated like those who used to get married in our family from Solankis."

"Oh mio dio. Perché?"

Oh my god, why?

Myra was a little shocked hearing from Ranvijay that he would not be easy on her. As usual her mother tongue came out in reflex.

"Each of your Italian sentences would cause immense pain for you Myra Singh Sekhawat. You are no longer Myra Singh Solanki."

"I don't know about you and your family. I did what I found right to do for my father whom I met after 19 years. I didn't want to lose him once more."

That part was a pure dramatic sentence that Myra told him. She was not interested in saving Rana Pratap. She had never even called that man her father. But she couldn't tell him the broken relationship. That would give him the upper hand. She chose this path to save innocents and the Legacy of Solanki. If Ragini hadn't done that dumb work, she might not be in this situation.

"And here you are. You would pay for his betrayal. Welcome to the hell Mrs. Shekhawat. I Hope you survive this journey."

"I will survive. And the day I would pass all this, you would no longer be able to reach me." That was an open challenge that Myra threw directly to Ranvijay making him startled at his position.

"Don't you dare to forget its India? It's not your fucking Italy. Here wives don't talk back to their husbands. You are supposed to do what I would order you to do."

"I must say that the women of your society don't know how to stand up for their rights. così triste

so sad

."

Now Ranvijay understood what he had actually brought in his house. A pure rebel.

After finishing her words Myra stood still looking straight in his eyes.

Ranvijay took a few steps towards her thinking that she would be afraid of seeing the rage in his eyes. Myra gave a pure ignorant look and looked directly into his eyes without blinking for a second.

Taking the rose from the nearby vase he held her hand in his and gently placed the rose on her palm. Myra looked confused but sensed something seeing a sudden smirk on his face.

Without wasting a time, he placed another palm on it wrapping around the stem. Pressing her both palms together he gave a huge pressure making those thrones of the rose pierced through her skin inside her palms.

She stood dumbfounded for some seconds due to a sudden jerk of pain. She couldn't let out her scream.

Blood started dripping from her hands on the floor. Her face was depicting immense pain, but she clenched her teeth and didn't let a single whimper or sob reach his ears.

Seeing her pale face and no scream Ranvijay became frustrated inside and applied more pressure.

The result he expected and the result he got didn't match. He left both of her hands from his grip and moved away.

Myra stood still in the same position holding the rose and its stem in her close grip.

Bringing down his face Ranvijay whispered in her ears.

"Each drop of your blood is just saving each second of your father's life. It's your father's blood, right? Royal Solanki bloodline."

Myra opened her grip and dropped the bloodied rose on the floor.

Looking straight through his eyes she replied with a sardonic smile.

"Each drop of my blood has a fair share of Italian Moretti family. I can say each drop of my blood is also decreasing each minute of your life too."

"You..." Before he could speak some more words his phone started ringing and he left her on her own. Wounded, shattered.

He couldn't believe what he had just heard. Moretti bloodline. Italy.

Broken, bloodied, betrayed by her own father Myra sat on the ground with her heavy Lahenga beside those blood spots. She didn't understand whom to blame. Her decision of coming back to Italy, or her decision of saving Solanki, or her decision of saving Ragini.

Outside the room Ranvijay received his phone.

"What? Are you sure? She is Moretti? Myra Moretti?"

"Yes brother. Her maiden name is Moretti. I hope we didn't do anything wrong by accepting this marriage proposal. She is the same girl we met 19 years back."

"You are forgetting Randhir, "Takht"

the throne

does deal with the Mafia world. We are the king of Mafias in India. But if I get to know that Solankis played a big game then he would lose his Legacy forever. There will be no alliance, no treaty. The war of blood will be declared again, and the Legacy will be finished off."

Disconnecting the call Ranvijay moved inside the room and frowned seeing the details of her on his phone. Randhir was telling the truth. She is Myra Moretti. Then how come she was the daughter of Rana Pratap Singh Solanki. How she became Myra Singh Solanki.