Introduction Of Rahul

🕯️ RAHUL ARVIND DESAI — The Monster They Made

> “He doesn’t flinch at blood. He flinches at kindness. Because no one was ever kind to him without a reason.”

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🕴️ A Man Made of Ice and Fire

No one knew where Rahul Desai came from — not truly.

He appeared in the business world like a shadow slipped through the cracks of power: black suits, colder eyes, and a reputation that preceded him like smoke before fire. He was just twenty-six, but spoke and moved like a man twice his age — a man who had clawed his way out of hell, dragging his demons behind him on a leash.

He was beautiful in a brutal way. Sharp cheekbones, unreadable expressions, a jaw carved like vengeance. His eyes weren’t dark — they were dead. No one had seen them soften. And no one ever would.

He wasn’t rich because of luck.

He was rich because he tore everything soft from himself to survive.

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💀 Childhood – The Origin of the Monster

> “His father taught him love with belts. His mother taught him silence with tears.”

Rahul was born behind locked doors and iron bars, inside a crumbling palace of wealth soaked in sin.

His father, Arvind Desai, was a monster in a man’s suit — a failed tycoon, addicted to control, whiskey, and punishment. The house was never home. It was a hunting ground. Rahul wasn’t raised. He was trained — like a dog made to obey through pain.

The first time he bled, he was five. The first time he learned silence, he was six.

And the first time he realized no one was coming to save him, he was eight — staring at his mother’s lifeless body in a white nightgown soaked red on the bathroom floor.

They said it was an overdose.

Rahul always knew better.

But he never cried. Not once. Not at her funeral. Not when they took her body away. He simply walked into her room, sat by the bloodied bathtub, and whispered:

“I’ll never need anyone again.”

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🔥 The Lost Years — Rebuilding in Rage

At eleven, he was sent away — not to heal, but to disappear.

A “discipline institute” in Switzerland. Wealthy men’s way of saying hell for the inconvenient children of rich bastards.

The place smelled of bleach, blood, and the hollow silence of broken boys.

There, Rahul learned not how to behave — but how to pretend.

He learned how to wear silence like armor.

How to stop flinching when slapped.

How to breathe through beatings.

How to smile while being destroyed.

By seventeen, he wasn’t a boy anymore. He was an illusion — calm, clean, and calculated.

He returned to India at nineteen with one goal: destroy his father, take everything, and never look back.

It took him three years.

By twenty-two, Arvind Desai was bankrupt, paranoid, and alone.

And Rahul? Rahul was the reason.

Arvind’s body was found crumpled on the pavement beneath his own high-rise office building.

The CCTV footage “disappeared.”

Rahul never denied it.

But he never confessed either.

Because monsters don’t need to explain.

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🕷️ The Man the World Sees

At twenty-six, Rahul Desai is the youngest power broker in the city. A silent puppet master. A name that makes people lower their voices and straighten their ties.

His public company, Desai Global Corp, is clean.

But beneath that?

He trades in:

Surveillance footage no one is supposed to have.

Secrets that can ruin dynasties.

Dead bodies that disappear before sunrise.

Loyalties bought with terror, not trust.

He doesn’t raise his voice. He doesn’t have to.

One look from him can unravel grown men.

One cold smile, and people confess crimes they haven’t even committed.

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☁️ Private Habits – Behind the Silence

He lives in a glass mansion on the cliffs, high above the city he owns but never joins.

He doesn’t let people in — not into his home, not into his head.

Not even his most loyal men have seen his bedroom.

That room is a vault of ghosts:

His mother’s ring in a locked drawer.

Her old voice recorder, rewound to the same lullaby, played once every year.

A blood-stained school notebook with shaky Latin words of pain — from a time when he still needed to speak.

He doesn’t date. He doesn’t fuck strangers.

He doesn’t touch unless he’s prepared to mark.

He hasn’t kissed anyone in five years — not because he can’t, but because he doesn’t want to feel anything.

Feeling means weakness. Weakness means memory. And Rahul Desai lives to forget.

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💣 What He Fears Most

Rahul doesn’t fear death.

He fears becoming his father.

There are nights he wakes up sweating — not from nightmares of what was done to him, but what he might do to someone else.

He’s terrified of love, because he knows what love made his mother endure.

He’s terrified of gentleness, because he doesn’t know how to return it.

And deep, deep inside…

He fears one day someone will love him anyway.

And that they’ll suffer for it.

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🕊️ How He Will Love Her

> “He won’t give her flowers. He’ll give her protection. He won’t whisper sweet words. He’ll whisper, ‘No one touches you and lives.’”

When Enaya walks into his life — with softness he can’t corrupt and innocence he can’t stand — something inside him breaks.

He tries to avoid her. He fails.

He tries to scare her. She stays.

He tries to own her. And for the first time, he’s the one enslaved.

He will love her in a way that breaks the rules of right and wrong.

He won’t beg her to stay. He’ll make sure she can’t leave.

He won’t write poetry. He’ll burn the world to protect her smile.

He’ll destroy her peace… but gift her his broken soul.

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( This is my second story.. My first story The Price of protection is already finished. Please give me support in this story also.. Please comment.. So I can know you are reading.. In the first story not many of you commented and liked.. Please give likes and subscribe 💫)

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