P-President… I’m in so much pain…” she whispered breathlessly. “Please… choose someone else. I can’t do this… please let me go.” Intoxicated, Vidyut Jindal leaned closer to her collarbone and spoke in a slow, heavy voice— “Impossible. Right now, I need you. Can’t you see who I am? I’m your President. I’ve been given a high dose of drugs… and I need you. I can give you loads of money if you want. But you’re staying here.” Jiya cried softly. “Give the money to someone else… not me… I’m not that kind of girl. Please don’t drag me into this… please…” But no one was listening. Vidyut grabbed her white shirt in anger and tore it apart. Jiya didn’t even get a chance to scream—his harsh lips crushed against hers, silencing her completely. The room was small. Suffocating. Her broken sobs echoed off the walls. The pain was unbearable. “Please… it hurts so much… get away from me… why are you doing this to me… please let me go…”