03-02-2026, 10:26 PM
(This post was last modified: 03-02-2026, 10:40 PM by Harry Jordan. Edited 1 time in total. Edited 1 time in total.)
CHAPTER 30
The villa began to change almost immediately.
By the next morning, Hemant had called in an interior design crew—quiet, efficient, handpicked. What followed was not chaos, but precision. Walls were stripped, spaces reimagined. New security systems—his own—were embedded seamlessly into the architecture. Biometric scanners hidden behind marble. Motion sensors calibrated to breath and shadow. Thick, reinforced glass panels installed across the lower sections, separating the living room, kitchen, outdoor gym, and indoor training areas. Elegant. Impenetrable. By evening, the sound of drills and measured footsteps filled the house when his phone rang. Hemant glanced at the screen.
Sonarika.
He hesitated only a moment before answering.
"Papa!" Karan’s voice burst through the line—upset, small, trembling with emotion.
"Why didn’t you take my call? I was calling you" Karan asked, hurt spilling through every word.
Hemant’s chest tightened instantly. He turned away from the workers, stepping into the quieter corner of the balcony.
"I’m sorry, champ, Papa had to go somewhere because something bad happened"
He said gently.
"What bad?" Karan asked.
"A very good friend of Papa’s went away. Very far" Hemant swallowed.
Karan was quiet.
"Like… holiday?"
"No" Hemant said softly, choosing his words with care.
"It means Papa won’t be able to meet him again. But it also means he’s not in pain anymore"
Karan tried to process this, his little mind circling something too big to grasp.
"Oh" he said finally. Then, unexpectedly,
"I’m sorry, Papa. I was mad at you" Hemant blinked hard, eyes stinging.
"It’s okay, You never have to say sorry to Papa" he said, voice thick.
Karan smiled at the screen, pride glowing in his eyes. "You’re the best Papa."
Hemant closed his eyes for a second, steadying himself.
"And when you come back, I have some really fun plans for us. Just you and me"
"Promise?" Karan asked.
"Promise"
Karan lit up immediately.
"Papa! The concert was so fun! Mumma stood with me the whole time. She didn’t even sit! We sang songs together"
Hemant listened, quietly grateful.
"And Mumma didn’t let me go with Meghna aunty," Karan added seriously. "She stayed with me the whole night"
"That’s good" Hemant exhaled, relieved.
"And Boss Nani was there!"
Karan continued, referring—innocently—to Sreelekha Naik. For a fleeting moment, a familiar ache stirred. But it passed. Hemant had made peace. Sonarika’s choices were no longer his burden.
"I had fun with Mumma, Anju didi, Ragini aunty, Nana Nani" Karan went on.
"And Dance Uncle too"
"I’m happy you had fun, champ" Hemant smiled.
They wished each other good night, and the call ended with Karan blowing an exaggerated kiss to the screen. Hemant stood still for a moment after the call ended—then turned back to the house. The following days passed in a rhythm of creation.
He oversaw the renovations personally. New glass panels rose like silent sentinels, each fitted with advanced locking systems. Access cards were programmed—one master card for him, one secondary for Tara. The villa transformed quickly. What was once a dream of family became something else entirely.
A fortress. A sanctuary. A statement.
By the end of the renovation, the Silver Beach villa no longer felt like a memory—it felt like an achievement. Regal. Controlled. Immaculate. A residence worthy of the city’s elite.
Hemant stood in the center of it all one evening, hands in his pockets, surveying the space.
This wasn’t an ending. It was a beginning. A new lifestyle. A new identity. A life crafted by his own hands—and finally, fully his.
The house was quiet in a way Hemant had never known before.
Not the hollow quiet of loneliness—but the deliberate silence of control.
He stood by the floor-to-ceiling glass, Mumbai’s dark sea in front of him like a void of black, a glass of water untouched in his hand. The villa reflected him back in fragments—steel, marble, shadows—pieces of a man who had survived something and come out altered.
His thoughts drifted, inevitably, to the future.
Did he even want a partner anymore?
Sonarika’s betrayal had done more than break his heart. It had carved a hollow space inside him— her actions didn't just break his heart , but his overall trust in love. Because she was not the first one to do it. Sonarika might've been the breaking point. Sanjana , Kira , Ashnoor and now Sonarika. Sometimes a man goes through enough pain after which he contemplates whether he need that pain again. What if he loves again and this same pain awaits him. Love, once instinctive and unquestioned, now felt like a kind of torture that only broke him further. He no longer craved permanence. No yearning for forever. No hunger for vows or promises.
Commitment felt… dangerous.
And yet, women still existed in his orbit. Real women. Complex women. Women with expectations.
Tamanna came to mind first.
She understood him in a way few ever had. The quiet empathy of shared scars. A woman who had watched her loved one fall in tragedy and escaped and emerged not bitter, but grounded. Two single parents navigating broken maps. With her, life could be steady. Gentle. Familiar. There was compatibility there—undeniable.
But Hemant knew himself too well.
He was still exposed. Still fragile beneath the composure. Opening his heart again felt like walking into fire with bare skin. He wasn’t sure he could survive another burn.
Then there was Pranitha.
An entirely different equation.
She belonged to the life he had stepped into now—the world of private jets, champagne evenings, power dinners, and unspoken dominance. The kind he was once familiar with Michael King. In a way Pranitha was an invitation to the glitter and passion he once had with Ashnoor. In a way Pranitha was more like Ashnoor only bolder and intense. She was calm where the world was loud. Confident without arrogance. With her, life wouldn’t be safe—but it would be electric.
Adventure. Passion. An intimacy that didn’t need promises to feel real.
What stayed with him most was this truth—she had always seen him. Even when he was just an overweight employer hiding behind authority, she had looked at him like he mattered. Like he was enough.
Now, as a tycoon, she fit seamlessly beside him.
And yet… commitment loomed again. Expectations again. Vulnerability again. Everytime love came in his life , fate eventually had cruel plans to haunt him.
For the first time in weeks, Hemant realized something else.
Sonarika no longer haunted him.
No dreams. No jolting awakenings. No sharp pains tearing through sleep. She had become what she was always meant to be—his past. A chapter closed, painful but finished.
He was learning to move on.
Still, the dilemma remained.
Raquel’s voice echoed in his mind. His friends’. His people’s.
You have a bigger family now.
There are more people who care about you.
They were right.
But caring didn’t have to mean binding himself again.
Hemant took a slow breath and made a decision—not dramatic, not emotional, just honest.
No commitments.
Not now.
He was still healing. Still recalibrating who he was without betrayal defining him. Love could wait. Promises could wait. Forever could wait.
For now, he would choose freedom. Presence without pressure. Connection without cages.
Situationships, not scars.
He turned away from the glass, the city still alive behind him, and felt something unfamiliar settle into his chest.
Not certainty.
But peace.
And for the first time in a long time—that was enough.
The call came on a quiet afternoon, just as Hemant was finishing his last set at the outdoor gym.
MYRIAD.
One of the biggest gym-fashion giants in the country wanted him for a full-fledged photoshoot—front and center—for Fitness Guru magazine.
Hemant listened calmly, but the moment the name Roxy came up, a small smile curved at the edge of his mouth. Roxy had styled him before—most notably for the Fortune Magazine cover—and he had personally recommended him again. According to him, the world needed to see more of him.
"An industrialist with that kind of physique? That’s not normal. That’s a story"
He had told the magazine board. The magazine head didn’t just want a shoot. They wanted an inside look. His discipline. His fitness philosophy. His routine.
And that was when Hemant knew exactly what he wanted to do.
He insisted the shoot include WLFL — Wrestler & Fighting Legends Federation.
The gym that had shaped him.
The place that had made him saved him again in life.
WLFL wasn’t flashy. It didn’t have mirrors that stretched to infinity or luxury branding plastered on walls. It smelled of sweat, discipline, and legacy. This was where college-aged Hemant had learned to fight—not just opponents, but himself. This was where the man he was today had been rebuilt.
The cameras rolled as Hemant trained, moved, stretched, and sparred.
In the interview, he spoke with quiet pride.
"This place gave me structure when my life didn’t have any. WLFL is a place of hardwork and perseverence , where I was molded into what I am today!"
He said. He made sure the names were said clearly.
Raghavendra — Raghav, the backbone of the gym.
Arnav Meba — Rony, one of the rare Muay Thai trainers in Mumbai.
"WLFL is one of the few places that teaches Muay Thai authentically. If you want to learn how to respect your body and your limits—this is where you come"
Hemant added.
Raghav watched from the side, arms crossed, chest heavy with pride. WLFL had always believed in Hemant, even when the world hadn’t. Now the world was finally listening.
The second half of the shoot moved to a posh hotel gallery—polished marble, controlled lighting, elite minimalism. Hemant transitioned seamlessly between looks. Compression wear. Training tanks. High-end gym jackets.
And then came that look. Just gym shorts. Nothing else. The room fell into a strange silence. Hemant stood relaxed, shoulders broad, chest full, abs carved with ruthless precision. His physique wasn’t just muscular—it was earned. Years of discipline sat visibly on his frame, unapologetic and commanding.
Two female technicians struggled to stay focused, their glances lingering longer than professional courtesy allowed. One nearly dropped a lighting tool before catching herself.
Hemant noticed. And for the first time in a long while—he enjoyed it. Not arrogantly. Not desperately. Just… comfortably. This was his body. His work. His achievement.
For a brief moment, there were no betrayals. No heartbreaks. No sleepless nights haunted by memories. There was only the click of the camera, the warmth of the lights, and the undeniable fact that he had built something powerful—inside and out.
As the shoot wrapped, Roxy walked up to him, eyes sharp with satisfaction.
"Get used to the attention hunk. This photoshoot will make all the rich ladies in the city crave you!!!"
Rosy said, gesturing at him. Hemant exhaled slowly, feeling lighter than he had in weeks. For once, he wasn’t thinking. He was simply being.
A few days later, Hemant’s phone buzzed while he was reviewing reports in his study.
Video call: Sonarika.
He exhaled, already guessing who it would be, and answered.
The screen filled with Karan’s face—wide grin, eyes glowing with excitement.
"Papa!" Karan shouted, almost dropping the phone in his enthusiasm.
Hemant laughed, the sound warm and instinctive.
"Hey, champ. What’s got you so excited?"
Karan tilted the phone proudly toward a glossy cover.
"Look! I found you at the mall!"
There it was—Fortune Magazine, his face bold and confident under the lights. Hemant felt a strange mix of pride and tenderness.
"Whoa. That’s my guy" he said softly.
"Papa, are you going to be a filmstar now?" Karan squinted at the cover.
"No, no. Not a filmstar. But maybe you’ll see Papa on more magazine covers" Hemant chuckled.
Karan nodded. Then, as if sharing a secret, he leaned closer to the camera.
"Mumma bought lots of these. She’s giving them to everyone in the neighbourhood"
That caught Hemant off guard.
For a fraction of a second, old instincts stirred—but he stopped himself. No assumptions. No spirals.
"Oh? That’s… nice of her" he said evenly.
"Where’s Mumma right now?" He cleared his throat gently.
"She went with Ragini Aunty to a fitness center" Karan replied.
That felt odd. Sonarika and gyms at this time had never been a thing. She always preferred early morning. His mind briefly wandered—to Ragini, to Vikram, to familiar patterns— probably a lie she had created to meet Vikram again. But he cut the thought short. He wasn’t doing this anymore.
"And what did you do in these days?"
Hemant asked, steering the moment back where it belonged. Karan’s face lit up again.
"Yesterday Mumma took me and Anju Didi to Adventure Island! I went on the big ride, Papa!"
"That’s awesome" Hemant smiled, genuinely.
"And next week, we’re going to Atlantic Water World!" Karan added, bouncing a little,
"Lucky you, have all the fun. We’ll make our own plans when you’re back, deal?"
Hemant said, warmth filling his chest.
"Deal! Good night, Papa" Karan grinned.
"Good night, champ"
The call ended.
Hemant sat still for a moment, thoughts drifting—Sonarika buying stacks of magazines, the gym visits—but before they could settle, his phone buzzed again.
Social Media
Roxy had posted a preview from the Fitness Guru shoot. The video was clean, sharp, unapologetic. Him in motion. Power. Presence.
The reactions exploded instantly.
A DM popped up.
Ananya: [Screenshot of him in gym shorts]
"DADDY" along with a Kiss and a Dog emoji
Hemant shook his head, half amused, half stunned.
Another notification.
Janhvi Kapoor: Shocking Face Emoji
Then—
Mrunal Thakur: "My timeline is officially blessed" with another kiss emoji.
He leaned back in his chair, letting out a low laugh. This world—this version of his life—still felt unreal at times.
Then came the message that made him pause.
Pranitha: "We need a video call tonight. Late. I have… plans"
Hemant exhaled slowly, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. For the first time in a long while, the noise in his head softened. He looked out toward the sea beyond his villa windows and shook his head lightly.
"Well" he murmured to himself, phone still glowing in his hand,
"Looks like it’s going to be a long night"
THAT NIGHT
Hemant had his wonderful warm shower and had his change of clothes for the night. As every minute passed , he could hear and feel his heartbeat. As he got comfortable in his bed , he waited and eventually. He initiated the video call.
The video call connected, and Hemant’s breath hitched. There she was. Pranitha, submerged in a mountain of white foam in a deep marble tub, her dark hair piled loosely atop her head. Her sleek shoulder rose from the bubbles, water droplets gleaming in the low light.
Her eyes, dark and knowing, locked onto his through the screen. A slow, wicked smile curved her lips.
"You just had to ruin my entire day, didn’t you?"
Hemant leaned back against his headboard, the silk of his pillow cool against his neck.
"And how did I manage that?"
"An important merger negotiation. Noon. My phone buzzed with an update"
She let her head fall back against the tub’s rim, exposing the elegant line of her throat.
"It was your photoshoot video. I watched it. Three times. Couldn’t concentrate on a single word after that"
A low thrum of arousal pulsed in Hemant’s groin. He watched, utterly captivated, as she sat up. The foam clung to her skin, sliding in slow, tantalizing rivulets down her chest. She reached for a handheld shower, and the water cascaded over her, rinsing the suds away. Inch by glorious inch, her body was revealed—the swell of her breasts, tipped with dusky pink, the dip of her waist, the smooth plane of her stomach.
She stood up in the tub, water sluicing off her. Completely nude. Utterly unashamed. The sight was a physical punch to his gut. His cock, already stirring, thickened against his thigh.
"See something you like?" she purred, her voice a husky vibration in the quiet of his bedroom.
"Every damn thing"
She turned, presenting her back to the camera, and bent forward slightly to grab a towel. The move was deliberate, artful. It showcased the perfect, round globes of her ass, still glistening wet. Peachy. The word didn’t do it justice. It was a masterpiece.
"Tell me, Hemant"
She said, her voice dropping to a sultry whisper as she straightened and began patting herself dry.
"Have you ever eaten ass before?"
The blunt question, coming from the poised board member of Regal Corp, sent a jolt through him. He didn’t hesitate.
"I have. Multiple times in the past , a young lady , a badass fighter chick. Then there was my wife, Sonarika… she had a meaty and plumpy ass. I’d make her cry from the orgasms, eating her out until she couldn’t take it anymore...I guess now those skills might've improved a lot!"
Pranitha went very still, the towel halting on her thigh. She turned her head, her profile sharp with surprise.
"You… talk about her so casually. Are you over her now?"
Hemant’s jaw tightened, but not with pain. With finality.
"She’s in the past. Her actions don’t touch me anymore. Not when I’m looking at you"
The tension broke, replaced by something hotter, darker. A smile of pure carnal approval touched Pranitha’s lips.
"Good"
She finished drying herself and walked, gloriously naked, out of the bathroom frame. The camera wobbled as she picked up her phone, giving him a dizzying, first-person view of her journey to the bed. The sway of her hips, the shift of muscle in her long legs. She lay back against a pile of pillows, the phone propped up to capture all of her.
"After that meeting" she confessed, one hand drifting to her own stomach, tracing idle circles.
"I came up here. Took a nap. And I dreamed… I dreamed it was you. In those same shorts from the video. Fucking me right there on the conference table, in the middle of all those stern-faced men and women"
Hemant’s hand moved to his own chest, feeling his heart hammer.
"Is that so?"
"You left very little to the imagination in those shorts"
She accused, but her eyes were alight with hunger.
"The outline of your… wonderful chunk of meat… was unmistakable. No wonder Ananya and Mrunal couldn’t stop gushing"
So that was it. The compliments weren’t just for his physique. A primal surge of possession tightened his gut.
"Take off your clothes, show me" she commanded softly.
He obeyed, starting with his shirt. But as he reached for the hem, her voice stopped him.
"Slowly. Tease me"
He slowed his movements, pulling the fabric up over his abs, his chest, his shoulders with deliberate, languid grace. He tossed it aside. His pants followed, unbuttoned and pushed down his hips, his muscles flexing with the movement. Soon, he was in just his black boxers, the prominent bulge at the front leaving nothing to her imagination either.
"The boxers too" she breathed, her own hand sliding lower on her body.
He hooked his thumbs in the waistband and pushed them down, freeing his erection. It sprang out, thick and heavy, already fully hard just for her. A low, guttural moan escaped Pranitha, a sound of pure, unadulterated want.
"I am losing my patience to finally taste that" she confessed, her fingers now dipping between her own thighs.
"To wrap my lips around it. To feel it hit the back of my throat"
She began to move her hips, rocking against her own hand, her gaze locked on his cock.
"Show me. Show me how you touch yourself"
Hemant wrapped his hand around his length, giving it a firm, slow stroke. A bead of precum welled at the tip. On screen, Pranitha mirrored his rhythm, her movements growing more urgent, her breath hitching.
"What… what positions do you imagine?" she panted, her eyes fluttering closed for a second.
"With me?"
He stroked himself faster, the slick sound loud in the room.
"I’m not choosy. But God, I want to take you from behind. Watch that perfect ass of yours shake with every thrust. Hear it slap against me"
"Like this?" she gasped.
She shifted, rolling onto her stomach. She grabbed a pillow, tucked it under her hips, and arched her back, presenting her ass to the camera as she rocked against the bedding. The view was obscenely beautiful. Hemant’s hand became a blur on his cock, his own hips pumping into his fist.
"Ananya, I spoke to her. She hasn’t stopped talking about the fucking you gave her"
Pranitha moaned into the sheets, her voice muffled but thrilled.
"Pranitha, I—" Hemant’s rhythm faltered.
"I’m not upset! we’re not a couple. Yet. But if you can turn a woman like Ananya into a fan… it only makes me crave you more. It only makes me… ungh… wetter"
She cried out, turning her head to face the camera, her expression fierce with lust.
Her admission pushed him closer to the edge. The visual of her, nude and shamelessly humping the bed, the sound of her slickness, the raw hunger in her voice—it was all too much.
"I’m close" he grunted, the tension coiling unbearably tight in his balls.
"Show me!" she demanded, her own movements becoming frantic, erratic.
"When you cum, point the camera. I want to see you erupt. I want to see everything"
He couldn’t speak. He could only watch as her body suddenly seized. A sharp, ragged cry tore from her lips. Her back arched violently, her entire form trembling as her orgasm crashed through her. He saw the damp patch spread on the pillow beneath her, saw the muscles in her thighs clench and quiver.
It was his undoing.
With a deep, guttural roar, Hemant came. Thick, white ropes shot from his cock, arcing through the air and landing hot and wet on his stomach, his thighs, his hand. He kept the camera trained on himself, capturing every last pulse, every shudder of his release, just as she’d asked.
For a long moment, there was only the sound of their ragged breathing, syncing across continents. She rolled onto her side, spent and glistening with a fine sheen of sweat, a lazy, sated smile on her face.
"No more" she finally whispered, her voice hoarse.
"No more what?"
"No more phone sex" Her eyes held his, blazing with promise.
"I don’t want to waste a single drop of that again. It deserves to be inside me. In my pussy, or my ass, or down my throat. Not wasted on the bed or floor!"
"Heh....you really crave for it huh?"
"Words cannot explain how much I do"
"So....about Ananya....what did she say to you"
"Just the necessary things..."
"Like?"
"Like how you plastered her into the glass window and reshaped her insides ploughing into her. She claims she can still feel the smacks to her ass the way you gave her. She is a kind of woman that likes it rough , and you gave it to her. She calls you 'Daddy' now!"
"I know....she reacted with that same term to my video"
"So before you fuck all of Bollywood......we need to do something about us"
"I am open for sujjestions"
"Well , the more I try to clear my duties here , some more starts to pile up. Its like the universe is building more angst between us!"
"Isn't that good? I mean this will make our union something special"
"True but I don't want to pent up so much to the point we will explode in that moment!"
"Looking forward to that so much huh?"
"Of course.....especially after what Ananya told me"
"What did she say?"
"Everything....down to the details"
"Is that so?"
"Indeed...."
"And what did you learn about me?"
"That you are quiet flexible.....that you were reluctant to be forceful but did it for her......and at the end of the day.....she found her daddy"
"Daddy? She really calls me that?"
"Actually its another thing......she used to call me 'Mommy' on our moments...so..."
"Oh....so we are her 'Mommy' and 'Daddy'.......I honestly hate those kind of kinks you know"
"I can understand....after all you're a real daddy for that matter.......but think of it as just a kink....something that is meant to be called behind closed doors"
"Sure..."
"By the way.....been hearing about YOD Enterprise going on business with RegalCorp.....a partnership"
"Partnership is a strong word......but lets say co-operation..."
"Hmm....you know I was nervous about disclosing about you to my dad and my idiot brother but....turns out they have made a dramatic U-turn regarding you"
"Well....they are made men.....so what better way to convince them than showing them that his daughter made a right investment"
"Hmm...funny....I seemed to have made the investment but still the profits aren't here yet!"
"Well....for the profit to reach you....you have to physically here!"
"Or my investment can come to me!"
"Hmm..."
"You know.....there is a nude beach here a few miles from Amsterdam......I saw a couple doing it in the open with no other people giving a shit......it made me wonder.....how romantic and erotic would it be if you one day.....walked here.....laid me down on the sand.....ripped my bikini off.....and fucked me senseless!!!"
"That is a wonderful dream Pranitha.....who knows.....maybe that might happen"
"I hope so....anyways....getting late.....see you soon handsome..."
"You too my sensuous beauty!!!"
"Mmm....wordplay...I like it....good night"
"Good night!"
Saying that , Hemant ended the call. He took a breather as he felt relieved after a great release and a wholesome conversation with this woman. Hemant eventually went to bed to a much needed sleep.
(TO BE CONTD)
By the next morning, Hemant had called in an interior design crew—quiet, efficient, handpicked. What followed was not chaos, but precision. Walls were stripped, spaces reimagined. New security systems—his own—were embedded seamlessly into the architecture. Biometric scanners hidden behind marble. Motion sensors calibrated to breath and shadow. Thick, reinforced glass panels installed across the lower sections, separating the living room, kitchen, outdoor gym, and indoor training areas. Elegant. Impenetrable. By evening, the sound of drills and measured footsteps filled the house when his phone rang. Hemant glanced at the screen.
Sonarika.
He hesitated only a moment before answering.
"Papa!" Karan’s voice burst through the line—upset, small, trembling with emotion.
"Why didn’t you take my call? I was calling you" Karan asked, hurt spilling through every word.
Hemant’s chest tightened instantly. He turned away from the workers, stepping into the quieter corner of the balcony.
"I’m sorry, champ, Papa had to go somewhere because something bad happened"
He said gently.
"What bad?" Karan asked.
"A very good friend of Papa’s went away. Very far" Hemant swallowed.
Karan was quiet.
"Like… holiday?"
"No" Hemant said softly, choosing his words with care.
"It means Papa won’t be able to meet him again. But it also means he’s not in pain anymore"
Karan tried to process this, his little mind circling something too big to grasp.
"Oh" he said finally. Then, unexpectedly,
"I’m sorry, Papa. I was mad at you" Hemant blinked hard, eyes stinging.
"It’s okay, You never have to say sorry to Papa" he said, voice thick.
Karan smiled at the screen, pride glowing in his eyes. "You’re the best Papa."
Hemant closed his eyes for a second, steadying himself.
"And when you come back, I have some really fun plans for us. Just you and me"
"Promise?" Karan asked.
"Promise"
Karan lit up immediately.
"Papa! The concert was so fun! Mumma stood with me the whole time. She didn’t even sit! We sang songs together"
Hemant listened, quietly grateful.
"And Mumma didn’t let me go with Meghna aunty," Karan added seriously. "She stayed with me the whole night"
"That’s good" Hemant exhaled, relieved.
"And Boss Nani was there!"
Karan continued, referring—innocently—to Sreelekha Naik. For a fleeting moment, a familiar ache stirred. But it passed. Hemant had made peace. Sonarika’s choices were no longer his burden.
"I had fun with Mumma, Anju didi, Ragini aunty, Nana Nani" Karan went on.
"And Dance Uncle too"
"I’m happy you had fun, champ" Hemant smiled.
They wished each other good night, and the call ended with Karan blowing an exaggerated kiss to the screen. Hemant stood still for a moment after the call ended—then turned back to the house. The following days passed in a rhythm of creation.
He oversaw the renovations personally. New glass panels rose like silent sentinels, each fitted with advanced locking systems. Access cards were programmed—one master card for him, one secondary for Tara. The villa transformed quickly. What was once a dream of family became something else entirely.
A fortress. A sanctuary. A statement.
By the end of the renovation, the Silver Beach villa no longer felt like a memory—it felt like an achievement. Regal. Controlled. Immaculate. A residence worthy of the city’s elite.
Hemant stood in the center of it all one evening, hands in his pockets, surveying the space.
This wasn’t an ending. It was a beginning. A new lifestyle. A new identity. A life crafted by his own hands—and finally, fully his.
The house was quiet in a way Hemant had never known before.
Not the hollow quiet of loneliness—but the deliberate silence of control.
He stood by the floor-to-ceiling glass, Mumbai’s dark sea in front of him like a void of black, a glass of water untouched in his hand. The villa reflected him back in fragments—steel, marble, shadows—pieces of a man who had survived something and come out altered.
His thoughts drifted, inevitably, to the future.
Did he even want a partner anymore?
Sonarika’s betrayal had done more than break his heart. It had carved a hollow space inside him— her actions didn't just break his heart , but his overall trust in love. Because she was not the first one to do it. Sonarika might've been the breaking point. Sanjana , Kira , Ashnoor and now Sonarika. Sometimes a man goes through enough pain after which he contemplates whether he need that pain again. What if he loves again and this same pain awaits him. Love, once instinctive and unquestioned, now felt like a kind of torture that only broke him further. He no longer craved permanence. No yearning for forever. No hunger for vows or promises.
Commitment felt… dangerous.
And yet, women still existed in his orbit. Real women. Complex women. Women with expectations.
Tamanna came to mind first.
She understood him in a way few ever had. The quiet empathy of shared scars. A woman who had watched her loved one fall in tragedy and escaped and emerged not bitter, but grounded. Two single parents navigating broken maps. With her, life could be steady. Gentle. Familiar. There was compatibility there—undeniable.
But Hemant knew himself too well.
He was still exposed. Still fragile beneath the composure. Opening his heart again felt like walking into fire with bare skin. He wasn’t sure he could survive another burn.
Then there was Pranitha.
An entirely different equation.
She belonged to the life he had stepped into now—the world of private jets, champagne evenings, power dinners, and unspoken dominance. The kind he was once familiar with Michael King. In a way Pranitha was an invitation to the glitter and passion he once had with Ashnoor. In a way Pranitha was more like Ashnoor only bolder and intense. She was calm where the world was loud. Confident without arrogance. With her, life wouldn’t be safe—but it would be electric.
Adventure. Passion. An intimacy that didn’t need promises to feel real.
What stayed with him most was this truth—she had always seen him. Even when he was just an overweight employer hiding behind authority, she had looked at him like he mattered. Like he was enough.
Now, as a tycoon, she fit seamlessly beside him.
And yet… commitment loomed again. Expectations again. Vulnerability again. Everytime love came in his life , fate eventually had cruel plans to haunt him.
For the first time in weeks, Hemant realized something else.
Sonarika no longer haunted him.
No dreams. No jolting awakenings. No sharp pains tearing through sleep. She had become what she was always meant to be—his past. A chapter closed, painful but finished.
He was learning to move on.
Still, the dilemma remained.
Raquel’s voice echoed in his mind. His friends’. His people’s.
You have a bigger family now.
There are more people who care about you.
They were right.
But caring didn’t have to mean binding himself again.
Hemant took a slow breath and made a decision—not dramatic, not emotional, just honest.
No commitments.
Not now.
He was still healing. Still recalibrating who he was without betrayal defining him. Love could wait. Promises could wait. Forever could wait.
For now, he would choose freedom. Presence without pressure. Connection without cages.
Situationships, not scars.
He turned away from the glass, the city still alive behind him, and felt something unfamiliar settle into his chest.
Not certainty.
But peace.
And for the first time in a long time—that was enough.
The call came on a quiet afternoon, just as Hemant was finishing his last set at the outdoor gym.
MYRIAD.
One of the biggest gym-fashion giants in the country wanted him for a full-fledged photoshoot—front and center—for Fitness Guru magazine.
Hemant listened calmly, but the moment the name Roxy came up, a small smile curved at the edge of his mouth. Roxy had styled him before—most notably for the Fortune Magazine cover—and he had personally recommended him again. According to him, the world needed to see more of him.
"An industrialist with that kind of physique? That’s not normal. That’s a story"
He had told the magazine board. The magazine head didn’t just want a shoot. They wanted an inside look. His discipline. His fitness philosophy. His routine.
And that was when Hemant knew exactly what he wanted to do.
He insisted the shoot include WLFL — Wrestler & Fighting Legends Federation.
The gym that had shaped him.
The place that had made him saved him again in life.
WLFL wasn’t flashy. It didn’t have mirrors that stretched to infinity or luxury branding plastered on walls. It smelled of sweat, discipline, and legacy. This was where college-aged Hemant had learned to fight—not just opponents, but himself. This was where the man he was today had been rebuilt.
The cameras rolled as Hemant trained, moved, stretched, and sparred.
In the interview, he spoke with quiet pride.
"This place gave me structure when my life didn’t have any. WLFL is a place of hardwork and perseverence , where I was molded into what I am today!"
He said. He made sure the names were said clearly.
Raghavendra — Raghav, the backbone of the gym.
Arnav Meba — Rony, one of the rare Muay Thai trainers in Mumbai.
"WLFL is one of the few places that teaches Muay Thai authentically. If you want to learn how to respect your body and your limits—this is where you come"
Hemant added.
Raghav watched from the side, arms crossed, chest heavy with pride. WLFL had always believed in Hemant, even when the world hadn’t. Now the world was finally listening.
The second half of the shoot moved to a posh hotel gallery—polished marble, controlled lighting, elite minimalism. Hemant transitioned seamlessly between looks. Compression wear. Training tanks. High-end gym jackets.
And then came that look. Just gym shorts. Nothing else. The room fell into a strange silence. Hemant stood relaxed, shoulders broad, chest full, abs carved with ruthless precision. His physique wasn’t just muscular—it was earned. Years of discipline sat visibly on his frame, unapologetic and commanding.
Two female technicians struggled to stay focused, their glances lingering longer than professional courtesy allowed. One nearly dropped a lighting tool before catching herself.
Hemant noticed. And for the first time in a long while—he enjoyed it. Not arrogantly. Not desperately. Just… comfortably. This was his body. His work. His achievement.
For a brief moment, there were no betrayals. No heartbreaks. No sleepless nights haunted by memories. There was only the click of the camera, the warmth of the lights, and the undeniable fact that he had built something powerful—inside and out.
As the shoot wrapped, Roxy walked up to him, eyes sharp with satisfaction.
"Get used to the attention hunk. This photoshoot will make all the rich ladies in the city crave you!!!"
Rosy said, gesturing at him. Hemant exhaled slowly, feeling lighter than he had in weeks. For once, he wasn’t thinking. He was simply being.
A few days later, Hemant’s phone buzzed while he was reviewing reports in his study.
Video call: Sonarika.
He exhaled, already guessing who it would be, and answered.
The screen filled with Karan’s face—wide grin, eyes glowing with excitement.
"Papa!" Karan shouted, almost dropping the phone in his enthusiasm.
Hemant laughed, the sound warm and instinctive.
"Hey, champ. What’s got you so excited?"
Karan tilted the phone proudly toward a glossy cover.
"Look! I found you at the mall!"
There it was—Fortune Magazine, his face bold and confident under the lights. Hemant felt a strange mix of pride and tenderness.
"Whoa. That’s my guy" he said softly.
"Papa, are you going to be a filmstar now?" Karan squinted at the cover.
"No, no. Not a filmstar. But maybe you’ll see Papa on more magazine covers" Hemant chuckled.
Karan nodded. Then, as if sharing a secret, he leaned closer to the camera.
"Mumma bought lots of these. She’s giving them to everyone in the neighbourhood"
That caught Hemant off guard.
For a fraction of a second, old instincts stirred—but he stopped himself. No assumptions. No spirals.
"Oh? That’s… nice of her" he said evenly.
"Where’s Mumma right now?" He cleared his throat gently.
"She went with Ragini Aunty to a fitness center" Karan replied.
That felt odd. Sonarika and gyms at this time had never been a thing. She always preferred early morning. His mind briefly wandered—to Ragini, to Vikram, to familiar patterns— probably a lie she had created to meet Vikram again. But he cut the thought short. He wasn’t doing this anymore.
"And what did you do in these days?"
Hemant asked, steering the moment back where it belonged. Karan’s face lit up again.
"Yesterday Mumma took me and Anju Didi to Adventure Island! I went on the big ride, Papa!"
"That’s awesome" Hemant smiled, genuinely.
"And next week, we’re going to Atlantic Water World!" Karan added, bouncing a little,
"Lucky you, have all the fun. We’ll make our own plans when you’re back, deal?"
Hemant said, warmth filling his chest.
"Deal! Good night, Papa" Karan grinned.
"Good night, champ"
The call ended.
Hemant sat still for a moment, thoughts drifting—Sonarika buying stacks of magazines, the gym visits—but before they could settle, his phone buzzed again.
Social Media
Roxy had posted a preview from the Fitness Guru shoot. The video was clean, sharp, unapologetic. Him in motion. Power. Presence.
The reactions exploded instantly.
A DM popped up.
Ananya: [Screenshot of him in gym shorts]
"DADDY" along with a Kiss and a Dog emoji
Hemant shook his head, half amused, half stunned.
Another notification.
Janhvi Kapoor: Shocking Face Emoji
Then—
Mrunal Thakur: "My timeline is officially blessed" with another kiss emoji.
He leaned back in his chair, letting out a low laugh. This world—this version of his life—still felt unreal at times.
Then came the message that made him pause.
Pranitha: "We need a video call tonight. Late. I have… plans"
Hemant exhaled slowly, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. For the first time in a long while, the noise in his head softened. He looked out toward the sea beyond his villa windows and shook his head lightly.
"Well" he murmured to himself, phone still glowing in his hand,
"Looks like it’s going to be a long night"
THAT NIGHT
Hemant had his wonderful warm shower and had his change of clothes for the night. As every minute passed , he could hear and feel his heartbeat. As he got comfortable in his bed , he waited and eventually. He initiated the video call.
The video call connected, and Hemant’s breath hitched. There she was. Pranitha, submerged in a mountain of white foam in a deep marble tub, her dark hair piled loosely atop her head. Her sleek shoulder rose from the bubbles, water droplets gleaming in the low light.
Her eyes, dark and knowing, locked onto his through the screen. A slow, wicked smile curved her lips.
"You just had to ruin my entire day, didn’t you?"
Hemant leaned back against his headboard, the silk of his pillow cool against his neck.
"And how did I manage that?"
"An important merger negotiation. Noon. My phone buzzed with an update"
She let her head fall back against the tub’s rim, exposing the elegant line of her throat.
"It was your photoshoot video. I watched it. Three times. Couldn’t concentrate on a single word after that"
A low thrum of arousal pulsed in Hemant’s groin. He watched, utterly captivated, as she sat up. The foam clung to her skin, sliding in slow, tantalizing rivulets down her chest. She reached for a handheld shower, and the water cascaded over her, rinsing the suds away. Inch by glorious inch, her body was revealed—the swell of her breasts, tipped with dusky pink, the dip of her waist, the smooth plane of her stomach.
She stood up in the tub, water sluicing off her. Completely nude. Utterly unashamed. The sight was a physical punch to his gut. His cock, already stirring, thickened against his thigh.
"See something you like?" she purred, her voice a husky vibration in the quiet of his bedroom.
"Every damn thing"
She turned, presenting her back to the camera, and bent forward slightly to grab a towel. The move was deliberate, artful. It showcased the perfect, round globes of her ass, still glistening wet. Peachy. The word didn’t do it justice. It was a masterpiece.
"Tell me, Hemant"
She said, her voice dropping to a sultry whisper as she straightened and began patting herself dry.
"Have you ever eaten ass before?"
The blunt question, coming from the poised board member of Regal Corp, sent a jolt through him. He didn’t hesitate.
"I have. Multiple times in the past , a young lady , a badass fighter chick. Then there was my wife, Sonarika… she had a meaty and plumpy ass. I’d make her cry from the orgasms, eating her out until she couldn’t take it anymore...I guess now those skills might've improved a lot!"
Pranitha went very still, the towel halting on her thigh. She turned her head, her profile sharp with surprise.
"You… talk about her so casually. Are you over her now?"
Hemant’s jaw tightened, but not with pain. With finality.
"She’s in the past. Her actions don’t touch me anymore. Not when I’m looking at you"
The tension broke, replaced by something hotter, darker. A smile of pure carnal approval touched Pranitha’s lips.
"Good"
She finished drying herself and walked, gloriously naked, out of the bathroom frame. The camera wobbled as she picked up her phone, giving him a dizzying, first-person view of her journey to the bed. The sway of her hips, the shift of muscle in her long legs. She lay back against a pile of pillows, the phone propped up to capture all of her.
"After that meeting" she confessed, one hand drifting to her own stomach, tracing idle circles.
"I came up here. Took a nap. And I dreamed… I dreamed it was you. In those same shorts from the video. Fucking me right there on the conference table, in the middle of all those stern-faced men and women"
Hemant’s hand moved to his own chest, feeling his heart hammer.
"Is that so?"
"You left very little to the imagination in those shorts"
She accused, but her eyes were alight with hunger.
"The outline of your… wonderful chunk of meat… was unmistakable. No wonder Ananya and Mrunal couldn’t stop gushing"
So that was it. The compliments weren’t just for his physique. A primal surge of possession tightened his gut.
"Take off your clothes, show me" she commanded softly.
He obeyed, starting with his shirt. But as he reached for the hem, her voice stopped him.
"Slowly. Tease me"
He slowed his movements, pulling the fabric up over his abs, his chest, his shoulders with deliberate, languid grace. He tossed it aside. His pants followed, unbuttoned and pushed down his hips, his muscles flexing with the movement. Soon, he was in just his black boxers, the prominent bulge at the front leaving nothing to her imagination either.
"The boxers too" she breathed, her own hand sliding lower on her body.
He hooked his thumbs in the waistband and pushed them down, freeing his erection. It sprang out, thick and heavy, already fully hard just for her. A low, guttural moan escaped Pranitha, a sound of pure, unadulterated want.
"I am losing my patience to finally taste that" she confessed, her fingers now dipping between her own thighs.
"To wrap my lips around it. To feel it hit the back of my throat"
She began to move her hips, rocking against her own hand, her gaze locked on his cock.
"Show me. Show me how you touch yourself"
Hemant wrapped his hand around his length, giving it a firm, slow stroke. A bead of precum welled at the tip. On screen, Pranitha mirrored his rhythm, her movements growing more urgent, her breath hitching.
"What… what positions do you imagine?" she panted, her eyes fluttering closed for a second.
"With me?"
He stroked himself faster, the slick sound loud in the room.
"I’m not choosy. But God, I want to take you from behind. Watch that perfect ass of yours shake with every thrust. Hear it slap against me"
"Like this?" she gasped.
She shifted, rolling onto her stomach. She grabbed a pillow, tucked it under her hips, and arched her back, presenting her ass to the camera as she rocked against the bedding. The view was obscenely beautiful. Hemant’s hand became a blur on his cock, his own hips pumping into his fist.
"Ananya, I spoke to her. She hasn’t stopped talking about the fucking you gave her"
Pranitha moaned into the sheets, her voice muffled but thrilled.
"Pranitha, I—" Hemant’s rhythm faltered.
"I’m not upset! we’re not a couple. Yet. But if you can turn a woman like Ananya into a fan… it only makes me crave you more. It only makes me… ungh… wetter"
She cried out, turning her head to face the camera, her expression fierce with lust.
Her admission pushed him closer to the edge. The visual of her, nude and shamelessly humping the bed, the sound of her slickness, the raw hunger in her voice—it was all too much.
"I’m close" he grunted, the tension coiling unbearably tight in his balls.
"Show me!" she demanded, her own movements becoming frantic, erratic.
"When you cum, point the camera. I want to see you erupt. I want to see everything"
He couldn’t speak. He could only watch as her body suddenly seized. A sharp, ragged cry tore from her lips. Her back arched violently, her entire form trembling as her orgasm crashed through her. He saw the damp patch spread on the pillow beneath her, saw the muscles in her thighs clench and quiver.
It was his undoing.
With a deep, guttural roar, Hemant came. Thick, white ropes shot from his cock, arcing through the air and landing hot and wet on his stomach, his thighs, his hand. He kept the camera trained on himself, capturing every last pulse, every shudder of his release, just as she’d asked.
For a long moment, there was only the sound of their ragged breathing, syncing across continents. She rolled onto her side, spent and glistening with a fine sheen of sweat, a lazy, sated smile on her face.
"No more" she finally whispered, her voice hoarse.
"No more what?"
"No more phone sex" Her eyes held his, blazing with promise.
"I don’t want to waste a single drop of that again. It deserves to be inside me. In my pussy, or my ass, or down my throat. Not wasted on the bed or floor!"
"Heh....you really crave for it huh?"
"Words cannot explain how much I do"
"So....about Ananya....what did she say to you"
"Just the necessary things..."
"Like?"
"Like how you plastered her into the glass window and reshaped her insides ploughing into her. She claims she can still feel the smacks to her ass the way you gave her. She is a kind of woman that likes it rough , and you gave it to her. She calls you 'Daddy' now!"
"I know....she reacted with that same term to my video"
"So before you fuck all of Bollywood......we need to do something about us"
"I am open for sujjestions"
"Well , the more I try to clear my duties here , some more starts to pile up. Its like the universe is building more angst between us!"
"Isn't that good? I mean this will make our union something special"
"True but I don't want to pent up so much to the point we will explode in that moment!"
"Looking forward to that so much huh?"
"Of course.....especially after what Ananya told me"
"What did she say?"
"Everything....down to the details"
"Is that so?"
"Indeed...."
"And what did you learn about me?"
"That you are quiet flexible.....that you were reluctant to be forceful but did it for her......and at the end of the day.....she found her daddy"
"Daddy? She really calls me that?"
"Actually its another thing......she used to call me 'Mommy' on our moments...so..."
"Oh....so we are her 'Mommy' and 'Daddy'.......I honestly hate those kind of kinks you know"
"I can understand....after all you're a real daddy for that matter.......but think of it as just a kink....something that is meant to be called behind closed doors"
"Sure..."
"By the way.....been hearing about YOD Enterprise going on business with RegalCorp.....a partnership"
"Partnership is a strong word......but lets say co-operation..."
"Hmm....you know I was nervous about disclosing about you to my dad and my idiot brother but....turns out they have made a dramatic U-turn regarding you"
"Well....they are made men.....so what better way to convince them than showing them that his daughter made a right investment"
"Hmm...funny....I seemed to have made the investment but still the profits aren't here yet!"
"Well....for the profit to reach you....you have to physically here!"
"Or my investment can come to me!"
"Hmm..."
"You know.....there is a nude beach here a few miles from Amsterdam......I saw a couple doing it in the open with no other people giving a shit......it made me wonder.....how romantic and erotic would it be if you one day.....walked here.....laid me down on the sand.....ripped my bikini off.....and fucked me senseless!!!"
"That is a wonderful dream Pranitha.....who knows.....maybe that might happen"
"I hope so....anyways....getting late.....see you soon handsome..."
"You too my sensuous beauty!!!"
"Mmm....wordplay...I like it....good night"
"Good night!"
Saying that , Hemant ended the call. He took a breather as he felt relieved after a great release and a wholesome conversation with this woman. Hemant eventually went to bed to a much needed sleep.
(TO BE CONTD)
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