06

Pissed on daddy

The study was silent, save for the rhythmic ticking of a grandfather clock and the heavy, heated atmosphere radiating from Pratap Singh. When the heavy fountain pen rolled off the mahogany desk, it settled deep in the shadows near his massive, leather-clad boots.

"Pick it up, Ashika," he commanded, his voice a low-frequency rumble that felt like a physical weight on her shoulders.

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