The PSR Headquarters stood tall against the dark night sky, its glass structure reflecting the city's endless sea of glittering lights.

Inside, the vast top floor-the domain of one man-was eerily silent. It was 8:00 p.m. The employees had left at 5:00, their absence turning the space into something almost lifeless.

But Ajit remained.

The entire floor was empty, save for two occupied spaces-his expansive CEO office and Kavin's cabin nearby.

Seated behind his mahogany desk, Ajit exuded an effortless dominance, his mere presence commanding the very air around him.

His sharp, chiseled jawline was clean-shaven, his high cheekbones and perfectly structured face giving him a striking, almost intimidating allure.

The dim glow of the overhead lights cast shadows over his sculpted features, highlighting the intensity in his deep, midnight-black eyes.

His dark hair, styled with an effortless precision, had not a single strand out of place. Yet, despite his immaculate appearance, there was something about him that felt untamed-a storm restrained, yet ever-present.

His blazer lay draped over the back of his leather chair, his crisp white shirt's sleeves rolled up, revealing strong forearms, veins subtly lining his skin. He looked powerful, untouchable.

But at that moment, his gaze was locked onto the thin file before him.

A simple document. Yet, something about it held his attention in a way that even billion-dollar deals didn't.

His fingers hovered near it. But he neither opened it nor read its contents.

A knock.

Firm. Controlled.

"Come in." His deep baritone cut through the silence, steady, authoritative.

The door opened, and Kavin entered. The man was exhausted, his tie loosened, his stance still disciplined, but there was an edge of fatigue in his posture.

Yet, the moment he stepped into Ajit's presence, his demeanor straightened.

"Sir, the Sighaniyas want to reschedule again. Their secretary called earlier."

Ajit's fingers stopped tapping. His piercing gaze lifted, sharp and unreadable.

"This is the third time."

His voice remained calm. But there was an undeniable finality in his tone, one that didn't need volume to make its impact.

"Yes, sir. They're proposing next Wednesday afternoon or Thursday morning. But that would clash with your London VC meeting or the quarterly creative review."

A slow exhale. A flicker of irritation.

Ajit leaned back in his chair, his broad shoulders stretching slightly, making the space around him feel even smaller.

He rubbed his temple for a brief second before speaking.

"Push the London call to late evening. Schedule the Sighaniyas for Thursday morning. If they reschedule again, we walk. No second chances."

The statement wasn't a suggestion.

It was a decision.

"Yes, sir." Kavin nodded, fingers swiftly noting down the change.

A heavy silence followed. 8:05 p.m.

The building, once alive with power and movement, now felt abandoned, save for these two men.

Kavin hesitated before speaking again. "Shall we leave?"

Ajit didn't answer immediately. Instead, he stood-slow, deliberate, unhurried. His movements were precise, calculated, as if the world itself followed his rhythm.

He adjusted his cufflinks, the smallest actions carried out with the same intensity as his biggest decisions.

Then his eyes returned to the file.

His jaw clenched.

For a moment, he debated something within himself. Then, almost on instinct, his hand moved-fingers closing around the file.

Not knowing why.

The two men exited the office, their footsteps echoing in the empty corridor. The motion sensors detected their departure, dimming the lights behind them as if the building itself recognized the night was over.

The private elevator doors slid open. Ajit stepped inside, the file still in his grip.

His gaze flickered downward.

Maya Verma.

Something in his chest shifted.

His fingers curled slightly over the folder.

It shouldn't have mattered.

But for some reason, it did.

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The soft hum of air conditioning filled the office as employees returned from their lunch breaks, settling back into their workstations.

Maya adjusted her chair, pushing a stray hair behind her ear as she glanced at the half-finished notes on her desk.

She had spent the morning familiarizing herself with ongoing projects, but nothing substantial had been assigned to her yet.

Just as she reached for her notepad, a shadow fell over her desk. She looked up to see a peon standing there, a sealed file in his hands.

"This is for you, ma'am," he said, placing it in front of her.

Maya frowned. "From whom?"

"From Kavin Sir, just told to deliver it," he replied before walking away, leaving her staring at the file.

She ran her fingers over the smooth cover before flipping it open. Inside were detailed project documents-client briefs, campaign outlines, and financial estimates, all related to the Sighaniya deal.

Her computer chimed.

She glanced at the screen-an email from Kavin.

Subject: Sighaniya Presentation

Maya,

Prepare the full presentation and compile the required reports before Wednesday.

The meeting is scheduled, and the CEO wants everything ready by then.

Kavin Srivastav

Her breath hitched slightly. The CEO wanted it ready?

Her eyes flickered back to the file, scanning the pages. This wasn't just any task. It was a high-profile deal, and she had been assigned the responsibility barely two days into the job.

She swallowed. Did this mean they saw potential in her? Or was it just a test?

Either way, there was no room for hesitation. No room for mistakes.

Straightening her shoulders, she pushed aside any doubts, rolled up her sleeves, and opened a fresh presentation template on her laptop.

If they wanted the best, she would give them nothing less.

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The rain lashed against the towering glass walls of the skyscraper, its rhythm relentless and unyielding.

It was 5:00 PM, the official end of office hours. Employees hurriedly packed up their things, eager to escape before the downpour worsened.

Maya, however, remained seated at her desk, eyes glued to the screen, fingers moving swiftly over the keyboard.

"Are you not leaving?" Priya's voice broke through the soft hum of the nearly deserted office.

Maya barely glanced up, pushing her spectacles up the bridge of her nose. "I have some work to finish. I'll be late."

Priya hesitated, glancing at the storm outside. "Are you sure? The roads will be a mess."

"I'll manage," Maya reassured her.

Priya hesitated for a moment but nodded. "Alright, but don't stay too long. The weather's awful."

With that, she grabbed her bag and rushed toward the elevators, leaving Maya alone.

The hours slipped by.

The once-bustling office now lay in eerie silence, save for the rhythmic ticking of the wall clock and the occasional flickering of the rain-drenched city lights outside.

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It was 8:00 p.m.

Ajit never left before eight. It was a habit ingrained over the years, a discipline he never broke.

Today was no different-except that Kavin had left early. That meant he was the only one still in the building.

As he descended the dimly lit corridor, something unusual caught his eye. Amid the darkness, one cubicle still glowed.

He slowed his steps.

Through the glass partition, he saw her.

Maya sat at her desk, her hair tied into a messy bun, stray strands framing her face.

The blue glow of the screen cast soft shadows across her features, highlighting the sharp contrast of her skin-the untouched side smooth and clear, the other textured with scars.

She was completely unaware of his presence, lost in her work.

Ajit's jaw tightened. He pushed open the door.

"Miss Verma."

Maya flinched, turning quickly.

His voice was calm, deep, but carried an undeniable authority.

He stood near the entrance, hands in his pockets, his black shirt sleeves still rolled up from earlier, revealing the defined muscles of his forearms.

The sharp angles of his clean-shaven face only enhanced his intense presence.

She scrambled to her feet. "Sir, I-I'm sorry. I was just-"

He cut her off with a simple statement.

"Do you know employees are not supposed to stay after 5 p.m.?"

Maya swallowed.

"I just had a little work left. I was about to leave."

Ajit didn't respond. His gaze remained locked on her, unreadable, assessing. She felt unnerved under the weight of his stare.

Flustered, she hurriedly shut down her system, stacking her files in her bag, moving faster than necessary.

"Wrap everything fast. I'll be waiting in the parking lot."

She froze mid-motion. "Sir, really, there's no need to trouble yourself. I can manage-"

She didn't get to finish.

Ajit didn't reply, didn't argue. He simply held her gaze for a brief second longer before turning and walking away.

Maya remained still, her heart thudding for no particular reason.

A second later, she grabbed her things, shutting the last of the lights behind her.

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Maya stepped out of the elevator into the basement parking lot, gripping her bag tightly. The underground space was vast, dimly lit, and mostly empty.

The rhythmic sound of rain drumming against the pavement outside echoed through the open entrance. The air was thick with the scent of damp concrete and gasoline.

She spotted him almost instantly.

Ajit stood near his sleek black car, the passenger's side door open. He wasn't leaning against it or scrolling through his phone like most people would while waiting.

He simply stood there, composed, unreadable-like he had all the time in the world.

Maya hesitated for a second.

She hadn't expected him to actually wait.

Adjusting her bag strap, she walked toward him, her sandals making soft tapping sounds on the cold floor.

"Sir, I really appreciate the concern, but I can-"

"Get in."

His voice was calm, firm. Not a request.

Maya exhaled slowly. She was independent. She had taken care of herself for years. It wasn't like she had never traveled alone in the rain before.

But something about the way he stood there, effortlessly radiating authority, made her rethink arguing.

Without another word, she stepped toward the car.

Ajit shut the door behind her before she could do it herself.

Inside, the car smelled of leather and expensive cologne. The air conditioning was low, the dashboard illuminated in soft blue light.

Ajit slid into the driver's seat, closing the door with practiced ease. His fingers moved with effortless precision as he started the engine, the car purring to life.

The silence between them was heavy, yet oddly not uncomfortable.

Maya adjusted her seatbelt, stealing a glance at him from the corner of her eye. His clean-shaven jaw was tense, his focus entirely on the road as he maneuvered the car out of the parking lot.

The rain hadn't eased. If anything, it had worsened. The streetlights outside blurred into glowing orbs against the windshield, distorted by the relentless downpour.

Maya finally spoke.

"Sir, I could have taken a cab..."

"You'd have waited in the rain for an hour before finding one," Ajit replied smoothly, not looking away from the road.

She had no counterargument to that. He wasn't wrong.

Still, she wasn't used to people-especially not her boss-offering rides.

Maya glanced at him again.

"Do you always drop off employees who stay late?" she asked, attempting light humor.

Ajit's hands remained steady on the steering wheel. His expression didn't change.

"No."

Just that. No explanation.

Maya blinked.

She looked away, her fingers tightening around her bag.

Something about his presence was unnerving. Not in a frightening way. In a way that made her too aware of the silence, of the closed space, of him.

She had heard things about him from colleagues. About how he wasn't the type to entertain unnecessary conversations. How his mere presence was enough to make boardrooms fall silent.

And now, sitting beside him in the confined space of his car, she understood why.

It wasn't that he was intimidating.

It was that he didn't need to be.

His authority wasn't in his words. It was in his presence. In the way he carried himself-with a kind of confidence that came naturally, effortlessly.

The sound of rain filled the car again.

Maya exhaled softly, turning her gaze to the window.

Maybe silence wasn't so bad.

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Ajit already knew everything he needed to know about Maya Verma.

Her listed address.

Her younger sister, Prachi Verma.

Her so-called guardian, Salim—an old mechanic running a small garage back in Madhya Pradesh.

These details weren’t difficult to obtain. His men were thorough. The file he had taken home last night had contained all of it.

Yet, as he maneuvered the sleek black audi car through the rain-drenched streets, he still asked, “Where do you live?”

A test.

Maya, seated beside him, hesitated—just for a second. But Ajit caught it.

She was debating something.

Then, in a controlled voice, she answered, “Greenwood Colony, near the old highway.”

Ajit’s grip on the wheel remained firm, his expression unreadable. But his sharp eyes flickered with something close to amusement.

She wasn’t lying.

Just not telling him the whole truth.

“Quiet place.” His tone was casual, but there was an underlying weight to it. “Almost inside the forest. A little too isolated.”

Maya only nodded, adjusting the strap of her bag as if grounding herself.

She was tense.

The rhythmic swish of the wipers filled the silence between them, the heavy downpour distorting the city lights into blurry streaks. The scent of rain mixed with the faint leather and musk of the car’s interior.

As they neared Greenwood Colony, Maya subtly shifted in her seat, preparing to get out. She reached for her bag, readying herself.

But Ajit didn’t stop.

Instead, he turned into a narrower lane, driving deeper into the colony.

Maya’s breath hitched slightly.

Her fingers clutched the fabric of her bag as she watched him take the exact turns—no hesitation, no uncertainty.

And then, the car rolled to a smooth halt.

Right in front of her actual rented home.

Her throat went dry.

He knew.

Of course, he knew.

Maya kept her face composed, but she could feel the faint tremor in her fingers as she unclipped her seatbelt.

Before she could reach for the handle, Ajit pulled open the small compartment near the steering wheel and took out a black umbrella. Without a word, he handed it to her.

She blinked. “I—I left mine at the office…”

“I know,” he said simply. “Take this.”

She took it slowly, her fingers brushing against the still-dry handle.

“Thank you, sir.”

The sound of the rain outside seemed louder in the pause that followed.

Maya could feel his gaze on her, sharp and unwavering.

Then, finally, he spoke.

“Next time, don’t waste my time giving me the wrong address.”

Her fingers froze mid-air.

She turned slightly, looking at him—only to find his expression as calm as ever.

His fingers tapped lazily against the steering wheel, as if he had already predicted her reaction.

“I—I didn’t—”

Ajit’s head tilted just a fraction, cutting her off effortlessly. “You did.”

The two words held no anger. Just fact.

Maya swallowed, feeling the weight of his gaze pressing down on her.

She had nothing to say.

There was no point denying it now.

Instead, she did the only thing she could. She gave a small, stiff nod.

“It won’t happen again.”

Ajit studied her for a moment longer before his voice dropped just a little.

“Go inside.” A slight pause. Then,

“And lock the door properly.”

Maya quickly nodded and stepped out, closing the door with controlled softness.

The moment she reached her gate, she dared a glance back.

Ajit was still there.

His car remained parked, headlights illuminating the rain-soaked road, his silhouette dark and unmoving behind the wheel.

Only when she disappeared inside—door locked—then the black audi finally reverse and drive off into the night.

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The thunder outside echoed the chaos within.

A glass flew across the room, shattering against the wall. Papers scattered. The old bulb above flickered, casting harsh flashes over the terrifying figure storming through the room.

His hands were bloodied—not from injury, but from beating the man groveling at his feet.

“You useless piece of shit!” he roared, kicking Marcus in the gut. The man howled, curling up tighter.

“You told me she wouldn’t last a day at PSR! You said she wouldn’t even clear the damn interview!”

“She was supposed to mess up, boss! I—I planted the wrong data—everything like you asked—”

“AND YET SHE’S STILL THERE!” He bellowed, grabbing Marcus by the collar and slamming him against the wall.

“You think this is a game? You think I’ve waited all these years just to watch her rise again?! I burned her life once—I’ll do it again.”

Rain crashed harder against the windows, matching the storm brewing in his eyes.

From the corner, a man finally stepped forward—Veer.

He was tall, lean, eyes shadowed with unease. He had been silent throughout, but now his voice cut into the air, calm but firm.

“Enough, RUDRA.”

Rudra turned, nostrils flaring, wild energy buzzing under his skin.

“You’re losing your mind,” Veer continued.

“You’ve already ruined that girl’s life once. Now you want to destroy her again? What’s left to ruin?”

“She dares to live,” Rudra hissed.

“That’s what’s left. She’s laughing. Breathing. Dreaming again—as if I don’t exist. I made her. I burned her world. And I’ll do it again.”

Veer’s jaw tightened. “You’re going to risk everything? Over your obsession with a girl who never even wronged you?”

“It was never about right or wrong. It’s about control.” said Rudra.

Veer took a deep breath.

“PSR is not your usual playground, Rudra. You know who owns it—You mess with HIM, you’re signing your own death warrant.”

That name—PSR—hung heavy in the air.

Even Rudra’s smirk faltered for a second.

“That man,” Veer added, stepping closer,

“is not someone you want to provoke again. You already have history. If he finds out you’re behind this…” said Veer.

Rudra’s expression hardened.

“That’s why we stay in the shadows. I won’t touch PSR directly. I’ll slide in—through people. Through hunger. Ambition. Weakness.”

He threw a file on the table—photos, names.

“Started with this woman. She works inside. Fresh blood. Hungry to climb. She’ll be our leak. I offered her what she wants. She screws Maya’s track record from within.”

Veer looked at the file, then back at Rudra. “You really have no limit, do you?”

“No,” Rudra said quietly. “I only have one goal.”

Veer stared at him for a long second before shaking his head and turning toward the door.

“Then count me out. I’m done with this madness. And one last thing…”

Rudra raised a brow.

“If PSR gets a whiff of your name…” Veer paused, his voice deadly serious,

“HE won’t knock. HE'll burn you out of whatever rat hole you’re hiding in.”

With that, Veer walked away, his footsteps echoing into the storm.

Rudra stood still, unmoved, only the muscle in his jaw twitching.

“Let HIM come,” he murmured to himself. “I’ve played with fire before.”

Rudra stood amid the scattered mess of broken glass, bloodied paper, and shattered pride. His breath was ragged, his jaw tight.

On the desk, a worn photograph lay under his palm—the girl in it radiant, untouched, smiling with that soft defiance he could never forget.

Maya. Before the scars.

He stared at it for a long moment. The curve of her lips. The spark in her eyes. The innocence he couldn’t break back then.

A muscle twitched in his jaw.

With slow, deliberate movements, Rudra reached for his lighter. Flicked it open. A small flame danced to life in the silence.

“You think you’ve rebuilt yourself,” he muttered coldly, holding the edge of the photograph to the fire.

“But I’ll reduce you to ashes all over again.”

The flames licked the corners of her image, curling the edges. Her smile twisted. Her eyes darkened. In moments, her entire face disappeared in smoke and embers.

Rudra watched until the last bit of the photo turned to black ash between his fingers.

Then, he picked up his phone and dialed.

A soft female voice answered on the second ring. “Yes?”

Rudra leaned back, the flickering flame still reflecting in his eyes. “It’s time. Make her fall. Slowly. From the inside.”

A pause. Then came the chillingly calm reply: “As you wish.”

The line went dead.

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𝙏𝙊 𝘽𝙀 𝘾𝙊𝙉𝙏𝙄𝙉𝙐𝙀𝘿..