The digital printout of the 1842 court illustration lay flat on Vennela’s drafting table, illuminated by the harsh white glow of her desk lamp.
For three hours, she sat motionless, unable to look away.
12
The Woman in the Portrait
The Blood Stained Lotuse
He was born from a legacy soaked in blood. She was the daughter of the man he swore to destroy. For twenty-nine years, he built his empire on power, fear, and revenge. An orphan carrying the mark of an ancient royal bloodline, he never bowed to anyone—and never forgave the man he blamed for taking his family away. Then she walked into his life. At twenty-one, she had dreams of her own, a love for dance she was forced to abandon, and an innocent obsession with raw mangoes and tamarind. She never imagined that one night would turn her life upside down. A gunpoint marriage. A mansion that feels like a prison. A husband who looks at her as though she is both his greatest weakness and his father's greatest sin. To him, she is the daughter of his enemy. To her, he is the ruthless man who stole her freedom. Yet hatred begins to blur when she discovers the man behind the terrifying reputation—the man who secretly notices everything, who remembers the smallest things about her, who watches her dance when she thinks nobody is looking, and who would destroy anyone who dares to hurt her. But there is something neither of them knows. The hatred between their families began long before their marriage. And the truth is buried beneath the lotus and half-sun—the sacred mark of his bloodline. A mark born from royalty. A mark surrounded by secrets. A mark stained in blood. Because sometimes the person you were taught to hate is the person your heart refuses to let go of. And sometimes… love doesn't bloom despite the blood. It blooms because of it.
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