—--25 years ago—-

Jodhpur, India

The night was heavy with the scent of despair as Jodhpur, the city of royal heritage, found itself plunged into chaos. The news had spread like wildfire— the queen was dead, declared so after childbirth. The palace corridors, usually alive with the whispers of courtiers, were now silent, save for the hurried footsteps of guards and the wails of mourning servants. But in the dead of night, amidst the turmoil, a lone figure moved with desperate urgency, clutching a tiny bundle to her chest.

A woman, barely in her twenties, with her face drained of color and her body exhausted from the throes of childbirth, ran through the shadowy alleys, her heart pounding in rhythm with the footsteps that followed her. She held the baby close, her every instinct screaming to protect the fragile life she had just brought into the world. The child, unaware of the danger that surrounded them, slept peacefully, nestled against her mother’s trembling body.

She darted into the cover of a small, rusted tempo parked at the edge of a deserted street. Huddling inside, she took a moment to catch her breath, her mind racing back to the events that had led her to this perilous moment.

Flashback - A Few Hours Earlier

The day had begun with hope, despite the lingering pain of childbirth. She had given birth to a healthy child only thirty minutes earlier and had finally allowed herself to relax, her body sinking into the comfort of her bed. But as soon as she felt the first contraction again, panic set in. She wasn’t prepared for what was happening, not again, not so soon.

Within minutes, the pressure to push became unbearable, and with every ounce of strength left in her, she bore down, her cries of pain echoing off the walls. The room was filled with the agonizing struggle until, finally, the cries of a newborn pierced the air once more. She blinked away the tears that blurred her vision and stared in shock at the second child now resting in her arms—a boy. Twins, she thought, her heart swelling with a strange mix of joy and disbelief. A boy and a girl. The girl was the eldest.

She cradled them both, her breaths coming in ragged gasps as she tried to process the miraculous turn her life had taken. But the moment of peace was fleeting. The sound of hurried footsteps and muffled voices outside her hospital room shattered the fragile calm.

“We have to inject her with the poison before anyone knows,” a voice said, low and urgent, sending a shiver of fear down her spine.

She strained to hear more, her heart thudding wildly in her chest. “We have to finish our work before the royal family comes for that bitch,” another voice responded, colder and more determined.

Her blood ran cold. They were here for her. Her suspicions confirmed, she clutched her newborns tighter, her mind racing. She had to act fast. She glanced around the room, searching for a place to hide, somewhere safe for her children. But there was nowhere. Nowhere that would guarantee their safety.

When the door burst open, she had no choice. She stepped forward, her movements deliberate, calculated. The two strangers, men she did not recognize, barely had time to react before she struck. With surprising strength born from desperation, she swung the metal bedpan, connecting with the first man’s head. He crumpled to the floor, unconscious. The second man stumbled back in shock, but before he could react, she brought the makeshift weapon down on him as well.

Panting, she stared down at their prone forms. Her heart pounded in her chest, a drumbeat of terror and adrenaline. She had to think quickly. Her eyes fell on one of the unconscious men, a woman who bore a striking resemblance to herself. An idea sparked in her mind—a dangerous, desperate idea.

Quickly, she stripped the unconscious woman of her clothes and exchanged them with her own. Her fingers trembled as she injected the poison into the woman’s arm, her stomach churning at the thought of what she was doing. But it was necessary. She had to protect her children. She had to buy herself time.

As she worked, a low murmur reached her ears. One of the strangers, barely conscious, whispered words that made her blood freeze.

“The royal family... is in danger...” the man croaked, his voice weak but filled with dread.

The gravity of the situation settled on her like a weight, pressing down on her chest. The danger wasn’t just to her—it was to her entire family. She had to act, and she had to act now. The thought of her daughter, her beautiful, innocent daughter, in the hands of these traitors was unbearable.

She wanted to take her daughter with her, to hold both her children close, but she knew it wasn’t safe. The palace was no longer a sanctuary—it was a death trap. And now, the danger has escalated. They were planning to kill the little princess of Rajasthan, her daughter. Her heart clenched with fury and fear.

As she prepared to leave, she heard another voice, one that made her freeze in her tracks. It was a voice she knew well, a voice that had once been trusted.

“We’ll finish off the little princess next,” the voice said, casual, as if discussing the weather.

Her heart twisted in disbelief and betrayal. How could he? How could someone who had dined with her family, who had grown under their care, turn against them so ruthlessly?

Her thoughts turned dark as she silently approached the source of the voice, her anger bubbling over. With a swift, precise movement, she slit his throat, her eyes cold and unforgiving as she watched the life drain from him. He deserved nothing less for his betrayal.

She knew she couldn’t stay any longer. Every second put her children in greater danger. Her heart ached with the thought of leaving her daughter behind, but she had no choice. She had to keep them safe. She had to ensure that the ones responsible for this treachery paid dearly.

With one last, lingering look at her unconscious daughter, she turned and fled into the night, her son cradled against her chest. The commotion in the hospital was growing louder, the cries of the newborn echoing in the corridors. But she didn’t look back. She couldn’t. Not until her family was safe. Not until the traitors were brought to justice.

Present

The city of Mumbai loomed ahead, its bright lights a stark contrast to the dark night she had fled. She had traveled far, evading the search parties, the assassins, the traitors. But she had made it. She had escaped. And now, she stood on the brink of a new life, one that would be lived in the shadows until the day she could return.

She held her son close, her heart heavy with the knowledge that she might never see her daughter grow up, that she might never return to the land of her birth. But she swore, with every fiber of her being, that she would make those responsible for this nightmare pay. She would return, one day, when her children were old enough to understand, to stand beside her in the fight for justice.

For now, she will leave India. But she would never forget the land she left behind. She would never forget the faces of the ones who betrayed her. And she would never stop until they were brought to their knees.

With a final, determined glance back at the city that had been her home, she boarded the boat that would take her away from India, away from the danger, away from everything she had ever known.

But not forever. No, she would return. And when she did, she would bring hell with her.