She didn’t know where she was being sent. Her stepmother had told her it was just a job—cleaning, serving, nothing more. But when she stepped in his penthouse, a shiver crawled down her spine. Something wasn’t right. The house was silent, dark and cold. The fragrance of something loomed something she couldn’t name. Fear? Temptation? Fate? And then, she sees him. Vidyut Roy. Tall, handsome, and devastatingly powerful. A man whose name carries sins—one who is feared, despised (hated) and utterly ruthless. The world already hates him for what he did to his ex-wife, Avyah, for the way he destroyed her without remorse. He was never a hero, never a savior. He was a man who owned, who controlled, who consumed. Mira, on the other hand, is a walking, talking storm of emotions. The kind of girl who dramatically stares out of windows when it rains, narrating her own tragic backstory like she’s in a movie. She picks fights with her own conscience, trips over flat surfaces and laughs at her own joke and never shuts up. She is a mess of contradictions wrapped in one stubborn, cute, innocent, dramatic package. But. She doesn't know, this is a cage. And he is already holding the key.