The captive was none other than Vanya Pratap Singh, a delicate young woman in her early 20s. The youngest daughter of the Khanna family, she had always been naïve and innocent, unprepared for the cruelty of the world. Her innocence had led her to this living hell.

For the past two months, her stepmother-in-law, Yamini, had imprisoned her in this room, subjecting her to relentless torture. Vanya had learned the true nature of Yamini, who portrayed herself as a kind and virtuous woman to the outside world but harbored a cruel and vindictive heart.

"Speak up, my dear," Yamini sneered. "I couldn’t quite hear you." Her smile was laced with malice as she watched Vanya’s tears stream down her face.

"Why have you locked me up here?" Vanya sobbed. "Please… let me go."

Yamini’s lips curved into a wicked grin. "Oh, I’m here to let you go, dear."

For a fleeting moment, hope flickered in Vanya’s tear-filled eyes as she looked at Yamini.

But Yamini’s next words extinguished it like a dying flame. "Don’t worry; I’ll be sending you far, far away—straight to the afterlife."

The little hope Vanya had mustered shattered into a thousand pieces, replaced by a faint, pained smile. She whispered to herself, "How could I expect kindness from a family where even my husband refuses to acknowledge me? He tortures me at his mother’s command. What more could I expect from them?"

Sneha stepped forward, gripping Vanya’s jaw tightly. "What’s with that smile?" she hissed. "Are you happy to die, thinking you’ll finally escape us? Or are you already missing us?"

The grip sent a jolt of pain through Vanya, but she remained still, her expression stoic, refusing to let them see her anguish.