By Rajeev Verma
I married a 50-year-old woman—after her entire family begged me not to. But the night I touched her body…I discovered a terrifying secret…..
My name is Surya. I’m 21 years old, 188 cm tall, a second-year student at one of USA’s top universities. My life was boringly normal. Until the day I met Sunny—a 50-year-old former restaurant mogul from London, once famous, now a mysterious recluse.
We first met at a charity event in New York. Her grey hair shone under the lights. There was something fierce about her eyes—an invisible power that made you stare too long. She walked slowly, but every step demanded attention. Later, she invited me to her ancient mansion in Miami.
A place so enormous and silent, it felt like it swallowed voices whole. We talked for hours. Her life was a film—money, power, a broken marriage…and a loneliness even her wealth couldn’t hide. I don’t know when I fell in love. Not with her money…but with the way she looked at me—like she could see my soul.
Three months later, on a stormy night, I knelt before her and said: “I don’t care about age. I just want you.” My family exploded. My father, a retired Officer, slammed the table: “She’s old enough to be your mother! You are ruining our name!” My mother cried till her voice broke. Friends laughed. But I didn’t care.
I left home. And I married her—in her own luxurious villa, surrounded only by her rich, predatory friends. I was the youngest man in the room—and the one everyone hoped would fail.
Suhaag Raat — The Night of Truth.
I was terrified. The bedroom glowed with hundreds of scented candles. Sunny stepped out, wearing a silk nightgown…and holding a thick file. She placed it on my lap.
Inside were property deeds, business shares,and keys to a silver Rolls-Royce. My hands shook. “I… don’t want any of this.” She smiled—soft, yet chilling: “Surya… I didn’t marry you because I’m lonely. I married you because I need an heir.”
The words cut like knives. “An… heir? What do you mean?” Her eyes turned cold: “My net worth is over $600 crores. When I die, greedy relatives will steal everything. I want it to go to someone I trust—You. But… there is one condition.”
The room froze. “Tonight, you must become my husband. Not just legally…Physically. If you can’t—tomorrow morning, everything burns.”
A game. A test. A trap.
When I finally reached for her, touching the cool silk on her skin…She grabbed my wrist—hard. The candles flickered wildly. Her voice dropped to metal: “Stop. First, you must know the truth about my ex-husband’s death.”
The Confession
“Ten years ago,” she whispered, he died… in this very room.” She paused. My heart stopped. “People think it was a heart attack. The truth? I watched him fall. And I never called for help.” Her face… had no guilt. No remorse. “He planned to sell everything and run away with another woman. So I let him die.”
The air turned to stone. I couldn’t breathe. “If you stay with me…you stay with my darkness.” She smiled like a queen sealing a deal with the devil.
The Portrait.
At some point, I fainted. When I woke up, the room was empty. Moonlight filled the walls like a warning. A giant portrait stood in the corner, covered by a red cloth.
Something compelled me…I pulled it down. A handsome man stared at me—his painted eyes too alive for a dead person. Beneath it: Ramesh 1956–2024. Below the frame—a hidden compartment. Inside: A sealed Last Will & Testament. I opened it. My blood ran cold.
“80% of my wealth goes to my only son, born in 1989, living in Sydney.” He had a son. Sunny lied.
The Forbidden Room
Morning came. I acted normal. But inside, a war. There was a locked room on the 2nd floor—“archive storage,” she claimed. That night, I heard a voice inside.
A man.
“Mom… please… let me out…” I found the key behind a statue. Hands trembling, I unlocked the door. A frail man, around 36-37, looked up—his eyes wild but intelligent. “Who are you?” I whispered back: “Surya … her husband.” He laughed—broken and bitter: “I’m Rohit. Her real son.”
The floor disappeared beneath me. “She locked me here for seven years—after my father changed his will.” His voice cracked with rage: “He didn’t die of a heart attack. She poisoned him. And I’m next.”
Checkmate
Sunny entered my room later, smiling sweetly. I placed the will on the table. Her smile widened—dark as night: “Good. Now you understand.” She leaned closer, her perfume like venom: “Surya … this house has rules. People who know too much…don’t leave.”
The candles blew out—as if the house itself wanted silence. I felt her fingers on my neck. “Sleep beside me, husband. The game has just begun.”
To be continued…
In a mansion where love kills, wealth lies, and the dead still watch… I realized: My wedding night wasn’t the beginning of love—But the beginning of survival.
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