The room was dim, cloaked in velvet shadows except for the bluish glow emanating from the massive 4K screen of Rudra's sleek, obsidian-black laptop.

Floor-to-ceiling windows framed the rain-slicked skyline of Bangalore, where droplets raced down the glass like whispers of a forgotten war.

In the distance, thunder rumbled-a deep, guttural growl that seemed to echo the unrest boiling within him.

The study was a sanctuary of silent power-minimalist yet regal. The walls were paneled in deep mahogany, rich and polished to a mirror-like sheen.

Heavy charcoal velvet drapes lined the windows, barely shifting with the cool hum of central air.

Shelves bore rare, leather-bound books, vintage miniatures, and relics of old power-Roman coins, antique daggers, a brass compass that never pointed north.

A decanter of aged Macallan sat untouched on a crystal tray, catching the occasional flicker from the fireplace.

The modern hearth on the far wall cast long golden shadows across the slick black marble flooring, the fire crackling softly-faint comfort in an otherwise chilling silence.

Rudra sat hunched forward in his custom-made leather chair, elbows resting on his knees, his chiseled features lit only by the icy blue wash of the laptop screen.

The footage played.

In silence.

Grainy, but high-definition enough-captured not by ordinary cameras, but by a covert surveillance system embedded deep into the PSR building's secure network.

A system Rudra had personally installed through backdoor contacts. Spy-grade. Hidden even from the building's management.

Timestamp: 8:11 p.m.

From the CCTV embedded in the concrete beam above the basement parking, the elevator doors slid open with a mechanical sigh.

Maya stepped out.

She emerged under the cold, industrial light, her figure slightly hunched from the dampness, shoulders stiff.

Her grip on her handbag was tight, fingers white against the strap. She walked with a sense of urgency-measured, but not panicked.

Then-

A sleek, jet-black Audi glided into the frame like a shark entering a still pond. The car halted at the far end. The passenger-side door opened before the vehicle had even come to a full stop.

Ajit Mehta.

He was already waiting.

Maya paused.

Just for a second.

A flicker of conflict crossed her body language, visible even through the distant lens.

And then, without protest, without defiance-she walked toward the car. Her steps hesitant but resolute.

She got in.

The door shut with quiet finality.

The Audi reversed, its taillights casting red shadows across the damp concrete.

And then-it was gone.

That was it.

Rudra paused the footage.

The screen froze on the now-empty parking lot, wet and still, lit by that sterile overhead glow.

His jaw tightened.

His breath slowed.

His blood boiled.

Ajit Mehta didn't give lifts.

He didn't do favors.

And yet-Maya had entered that car.

No fight. No resistance. No scene.

No fucking explanation.

Rudra leaned back, spine cracking slightly as he shifted. His fingers began tapping the glass tabletop in a sharp rhythm, like the march of boots before a war.

Inside his chest, a storm churned-thick, violent, rising.

And then-

CRASH!

The heavy glass shattered in his grip.

Slivers of crystal embedded in his palm, blood blooming across his skin and dripping onto the black marble like war paint.

He didn't flinch.

"Marley!"

His voice thundered through the room like cannon fire. "Marley! Where the hell are you?!"

The door burst open a moment later, and Marley rushed in-neat hair disheveled, face pale, eyes wide at the sight before him.

The broken glass.

The blood.

The screen.

"S-Sir-"

Rudra didn't let him finish. His blood-smeared hand rose and pointed-straight at the frozen CCTV frame.

"What the hell is this?" he growled. "What is she doing there? We bribed that woman to isolate her, not to sip tea while Ajit Mehta plays chauffeur!"

Marley swallowed hard, voice barely a whisper.

"I-I'll talk to her again-"

"Don't talk. Act."

Rudra's tone dropped, venomous and low-more lethal than any shout.

"We've given her more than she's worth. If she can't break Maya's morale, can't suffocate her career inch by inch, then what the hell is the point?"

He stood.

Now fully towering.

Blood still dripping from his hand.

His dark shirt stained with it, his jaw sharp, eyes glinting with something far darker than rage-intent.

The air thickened, as if the room itself knew not to breathe.

"Tell her this-" Rudra hissed, stepping closer to Marley, who flinched despite himself.

"One more mistake, and she's done. I don't care how, or where, or when. But if she fails again-"

His voice turned ice cold.

"I'll personally free her from this life."

Marley nodded quickly, throat dry.

"Y-Yes, sir."

Rudra turned back to the laptop. The frame was still frozen on the empty lot.

But in his mind, he still saw her. Maya. Stepping into that car.

His voice dropped to a whisper.

"I will destroy you, my love... to such an extent that you will die every single day."

His eyes, dark as obsidian, bore into the screen.

What once held love now brimmed with the promise of annihilation.

And somewhere between the glow of technology and the crackling fire-

A vow was made of destruction.

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Hours of relentless work had left Maya's body stiff and aching. Her fingers cramped from typing, her back sore from hunching over the small desk.

She finally pushed her chair back with a soft scrape against the floor, rising to stretch.

Her spine cracked faintly as she arched, lifting her arms above her head, trying to ease the tightness knotted in her muscles.

The night was silent but alive - the thin curtains at the window billowed with the slow dance of the breeze, carrying the mixed scents of wet earth and distant rain.

Moonlight spilled into the room in pale streams, tracing delicate silver patterns across the floor.

Just as Maya closed her eyes, savoring the rare moment of stillness, her phone vibrated sharply against the wooden table.

A harsh jolt against the quiet.

Frowning slightly, she reached for it.

The screen glowed in the dark:

'Kavin Sir'.

The name alone sent a thin blade of tension through her chest.

She answered immediately.

"Hello," she said, her voice trying to remain neutral.

A pause - deliberate, almost condescending - before a smooth, commanding voice filled the line.

"Miss Maya," Kavin's tone was coldly formal, polished like the edge of a well-used blade.

It wasn't a question or a greeting. It was a statement, as if he already owned the moment, and her time.

"I trust I am not interrupting anything... important."

The slight emphasis on the last word wasn't lost on her. It was a subtle reminder: Work comes before everything else.

"No, Sir. It's okay. "

Maya's response was quick, clipped, the careful tone of someone speaking to a man who could crush her future with a casual flick of his wrist.

Another pause - longer this time - as if he was allowing her to stew in the silence.

"I am enquiring about the presentation," Kavin continued, his voice devoid of warmth.

"Tomorrow evening, we are scheduled to meet the Singhania Group. Every file must be flawless, every detail... unblemished. You understand the gravity, I presume."

"I'm working on it, Sir," Maya answered, forcing herself to stay steady under the invisible pressure of his words.

"The presentation is nearly complete. Tomorrow morning at the office, I will hand over the pen drive."

The line buzzed softly in the gap that followed.

Even over the phone, Maya could feel Kavin weighing her response, measuring her efficiency, her usefulness.

"Good," he said finally, in a tone that felt less like approval and more like a judge passing a temporary verdict.

"But remember, Miss Maya..."

His voice dropped lower, almost silky in its menace.

"Perfection isn't optional."

Before she could reply, the call ended - a hollow beep sounding in her ear.

Maya lowered the phone slowly, her fingers numb.

She stood there for a moment, absorbing the stillness that had returned, but it was no longer soothing.

The moonlight now seemed colder.

The whisper of the trees, once comforting, sounded like murmurs of warning.

Drawn by the hush of the night, Maya moved towards the small window, her delicate fingers curling around the iron bars.

The breeze lifted the thin curtains like ghostly hands, moonlight spilling across her face - soft, serene, unaware.

She closed her eyes briefly, letting the cool air kiss her skin, her breathing steady, innocent.

Untouched.

But innocence never stayed untouched for long.

From the blackened corners where even shadows dared not breathe, a gaze was locked onto her.

Fierce.

Burning.

Starving.

He stood cloaked in the darkness, his entire being coiled with a hunger too deep, too vicious to name.

His eyes devoured her-

the slope of her neck,

the curve of her waist,

the way the moonlight dared to lay its filthy hands on what was his.

A muscle ticked in his jaw.

She didn't know.

She didn't know that with every passing second, she was stitching herself tighter into the cage he had built for her.

A cage woven not of steel, but of need.

Of obsession.

In his world, she had no escape.

Not now.

Not ever.

Maya might believe she was free, breathing in her borrowed peace-but her soul had already been claimed.

Long ago.

Silently.

Irrevocably.

And He, from the void of his darkened world, watched with a patience that was almost cruel.

Because the night would end.

Her illusions would shatter.

And when they did-

She would be His.

Whether she wanted it or not.

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The shrill blare of her phone alarm shattered the fragile cocoon of sleep.

Maya jolted awake, blinking against the grey morning light.

"Oh no, I'm getting late!" she gasped.

Without wasting a second, she grabbed her laptop, jamming in the pendrive with trembling fingers. The presentation began transferring, the progress bar crawling like time itself mocked her.

In the meantime, she rushed into the bathroom, taking the quickest shower of her life. Water beaded down her skin and fell forgotten as she scrambled into her clothes, combing through her hair with frantic hands.

The sharp, familiar honk outside snapped her into motion.

Abdul Bhai.

Throwing the essentials into her bag-laptop, pendrive, a few documents-she slung it over her shoulder and hurried out.

"Good morning, Bhai," she greeted breathlessly as she slid into the car.

"Good morning," Abdul said, glancing at her in the rearview mirror. "Sorry, I won't be able to pick you up from the office later."

"It's okay, Bhai," she replied quickly, fastening her seatbelt. Her voice was laced with urgency.

"Please... I'm really late today. We have an important meeting. If there's any shortcut, any lane you know-just take it."

Abdul gave a small nod, switching gears smoothly.

Outside, the city whirred to life in a blur of noise and color, but Maya barely noticed-her heart hammering louder than the traffic around her.

Today wasn't just important.

Today... everything could change.

And somewhere, unseen, other forces stirred - watching, waiting.

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Maya rushed through the glass doors of the office, slightly out of breath, her bag bouncing against her side.

"Good morning, Maya!" Rachi called out brightly from behind the reception desk, flashing her usual wide smile.

"Good morning," Maya panted, trying to steady her breathing.

Rachi chuckled and quickly slid a glass of water toward her.

"Whoa, looks like someone was running a marathon! Here, drink first before you collapse."

Gratefully, Maya grabbed the glass and gulped down the cool water, feeling the chill ease her flustered nerves.

Setting the glass back on the counter, she exhaled loudly.

"Feeling alive now?" Rachi teased, tapping her pen against the desk.

Maya smirked.

"Alive enough to notice someone grinning like a love-struck teenager first thing in the morning."

Rachi's cheeks colored instantly.

"Excuse me?" she sputtered, pretending to rearrange some papers.

Maya leaned in, lowering her voice conspiratorially.

"Don't think I haven't noticed, Rachi. One glimpse of Ajit Sir or Kavin Sir and you turn into a puddle."

Rachi gasped dramatically, pressing a hand to her heart.

"That's slander!"

Maya laughed, the sound light and teasing.

"Oh really? Shall I remind you how you nearly dropped your coffee last day when Kavin Sir asked you for a file?"

Rachi groaned, burying her face in her hands for a moment.

"Stop it, Maya! You're evil!"

Maya grinned.

"All's fair in love and crushes, dear."

Rachi finally peeked out between her fingers, laughing despite herself.

"In case you're dying to know, your Kavin Sir came just five minutes ago. So move before someone else steals his attention."

Rolling her eyes but smiling mischievously, Maya adjusted her bag.

"Alright, Miss Hopeless Romantic. Catch you later!"

"Good luck, Miss Presentation Queen!" Rachi called after her, shaking her head with a wide grin.

Maya chuckled as she walked briskly toward the elevators, her nerves buzzing in a strange mixture of excitement and anxiety.

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"The presentation looks satisfactory, Miss Maya," Kavin said, his voice clipped and formal as he handed the pen drive back to her.

"For now, keep it with you."

Maya blinked, slightly taken aback by the directness.

"But... Sir, the meeting is still a few hours away. Wouldn't it be better if you kept it safe?"

Kavin barely spared her a glance, adjusting the cuffs of his crisp shirt.

"I have far more important matters to oversee before the clients arrive. I don't have time to babysit a pen drive."

His tone was calm, yet there was an underlying sharpness that brokered no argument.

"And," he added, locking his sharp gaze onto her, "you will be presenting the project in front of them."

Maya's breath hitched.

"Me, Sir? But... I mean... Will CEO SIR approve? People of such stature will be there, and I'm just-"

"You are an employee," Kavin interrupted coolly, his towering presence weighing down on her.

"That's enough. If you cannot handle standing in front of a few powerful men, then you don't belong here."

His words cut clean, but his expression remained unreadable - not cruel, but firm, calculated.

"Prepare yourself. That's all," he finished curtly and without waiting for her reply, he turned and walked away, his long strides echoing against the polished floors.

Maya remained still, the slim pen drive digging into her palm.

The brisk click of Kavin's polished shoes faded as he walked away, every movement of his precise, mechanical - like a man built to command, not to accommodate.

There was no kindness in him, no softness to his edges.

Just raw authority, wrapped in tailored suits and a gaze that could pin you to the wall without ever raising his voice.

Maya exhaled slowly, steadying the thrum of nerves under her skin.

It wasn't fear.

It was something sharper.

A strange chaos he always left behind, like a blade skimmed too close without ever drawing blood.

Tightening her hold on the pen drive, she whispered to herself,

"You can do this, Maya."

Her voice barely rose above a breath, lost in the vastness of the pristine, high-ceilinged corridor.

Then, squaring her shoulders, she turned toward her cubicle - aware that from the tinted glass walls above, unseen eyes might still be watching.

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The clock struck one, and the faint chime echoed through the office, signaling the start of lunch hour - a strict rule everyone followed at PSR.

"Hey, Maya!" Priya called out from her cabin door, waving her hand.

"Yes?" Maya looked up from her file, pausing her work instinctively.

"It's lunch time. Come, let's eat. You're going to be tied up with the meeting preparations soon - you won't get a chance later,"

Priya said, walking toward her.

"Yeah, but I just have this one page to complete. Let me fini-"

"No excuses," Priya cut her off with a mock glare.

"Rules are rules. Lunch hour means lunch hour. Even Rachi's already waiting for us."

Sighing in surrender, Maya gathered her things and followed Priya out. The corridor buzzed lightly as other employees made their way to the canteen, everyone mindful of the company's discipline.

When they entered, Rachi was already seated at their usual spot, sipping from a glass of water.

"Hey, lovelies!" she greeted, waving cheerfully as they approached.

Maya smiled as she sat down, feeling a rare moment of ease among the rigid schedule.

Their plates were served quickly - PSR's canteen operated like clockwork. Halfway through the meal, Priya's phone buzzed loudly against the table.

"Eat properly, you two. I'll be back - urgent call," Priya said, picking up and stepping aside.

Rachi leaned forward slightly, lowering her voice playfully.

"All the best, Maya. Go knock 'em dead at the meeting."

Maya chuckled, wiping her hands with a napkin.

"Thanks. And you... don't dream too much about a certain Kavin Sir and our CEO sir," she teased, raising an eyebrow.

Rachi almost choked on her water, her cheeks turning a shade redder.

"Shut up, Maya!"

Maya laughed softly, feeling a bit lighter, even as the thought of the upcoming meeting sent a tiny ripple of nervousness through her stomach.

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"So, Miss Maya, is everything ready?" Kavin leaned slightly towards her, keeping his voice to a low whisper so the others in the room wouldn't overhear.

"Yes, Sir," Maya replied promptly, her voice steady, though her fingers unconsciously tightened around the edge of her laptop.

"Good," Kavin said with a brief nod, adjusting the cuffs of his suit. His tone was clipped, a man trying to mask his rising nerves under layers of professionalism.

"Wait until Sir gives the signal. Only then will you begin the presentation."

Maya nodded once, her heart already beginning to race as she stole a quick glance at the grand clock on the far wall. Time was ticking closer to the moment when everything would begin.

The soft murmur of executives and representatives filled the conference room, but there was an underlying tension in the air, a strange kind of anticipation that made the atmosphere almost electric.

It was the kind of feeling that signaled his arrival.

The heavy wooden doors of the conference room swung open without warning.

Instantly, the low conversations died mid-sentence, and an almost reverent silence spread across the room.

Ajit walked in - and it wasn't merely a man entering. It was a presence that dominated the very air.

He was dressed sharply in a charcoal-black three-piece suit that clung perfectly to his broad shoulders and athletic frame.

The crisp white shirt underneath set off the deep black of his outfit, and a slim black tie was knotted neatly at his throat.

His polished black leather shoes made no sound against the marble floor, as if even the ground beneath him dared not protest his steps.

A sleek platinum watch peeked subtly from under his cuff - a silent symbol of both his wealth and precision.

His face was carved with sharp, commanding lines - high cheekbones, a strong jaw dusted with a day's worth of dark stubble, and eyes like sharpened steel, glinting with a fierce intelligence. His thick, neatly combed black hair was slicked back, revealing a proud forehead that spoke of power and intellect.

There was no need for words.

The weight of his authority alone demanded that everyone rise straighter in their seats, that they lower their gazes slightly, and that they hold their breath just a second longer.

Ajit's aura was magnetic - a mix of ruthless control, supreme confidence, and a cold, untouchable elegance that made it clear: he was the kind of man who did not ask for respect. He commanded it.

Without glancing at anyone directly, Ajit strode to the head of the long mahogany table and took his seat with an effortless grace. Even sitting, he seemed to tower over the room.

He didn't have to announce that the meeting had begun. His mere presence was enough.

He cast a single, impassive look across the table - the kind of look that made it clear he owned the room, even without speaking.

"Good afternoon," he said, his voice calm, neutral, perfectly measured.

"As you all know, today's meeting is to discuss and finalize the strategic collaboration between PSR Tech Co and Singhania Industries."

There was no warmth in his tone - only a cold professionalism that carried the unspoken message:

"This is business, nothing more. Impress me - if you can."

He leaned back slightly in his leather chair, one ankle resting over the opposite knee - a posture of utter ease, though the sharpness in his eyes warned that nothing would slip past him.

"We appreciate your presence," he added formally, sparing a glance toward the Singhania team - not friendly, but not disrespectful either. Pure business etiquette.

Turning slightly, he gave Kavin a small nod - the silent command unmistakable.

"Kavin," he said simply,

"Start the presentation."

The meeting was underway.

Maya wiped her slightly sweaty palms against the sides of her formal trousers Kavin gave her a slight nod.

Taking a deep breath to calm her racing heart, she rose from her chair, clutching her laptop and the pendrive tightly, and walked toward the presentation stand at the far end of the conference room.

Her heels clicked softly against the polished marble floor — a sound that somehow echoed in the heavy, charged silence.

She wore a plain, crisp white full-sleeved shirt tucked neatly into black trousers — no ornaments, no frills. Her hair was pulled into a tight, low braid.

Simple. Professional. Invisible — at least she hoped.

But eyes found her anyway.

As she adjusted the laptop, she could feel the heavy stares drilling into her — the slight, unconscious recoils, the widening eyes.

One side of her face, untouched by fate, still carried the softness of youth — delicate cheekbones, a graceful jawline.

The other half... bore the brutal memory of a night she never spoke about — puckered scars, a landscape of pain burned into her skin.

A woman among the Singhania representatives — dressed in a heavy gold sari — leaned sideways and whispered, not even caring to lower her voice:

"Is this their best? Look at her face... how disgusting."

Another chuckled behind a manicured hand, the sound sharp as broken glass.

Maya stiffened, her knuckles whitening around the laptop. She kept her head down, forcing herself to breathe slowly, count backwards... You are here for your work. You are not here to be liked.

Maya adjusted the laptop on the sleek glass podium, her white full-sleeved shirt crisply ironed, though a soft sheen of nervousness had begun to form across her forehead.

Her fingers, slender and unsure, hovered over the keyboard as she inserted the pendrive.

A soft chime echoed as the system detected the drive.

But something felt… off.

The projector whirred to life, and the large screen behind her flickered.

Instead of the polished PSR welcome slide, an unusual, dimly lit image bled onto the screen — an outdoor warehouse, blurry silhouettes of men carrying crates stamped with an unfamiliar label.

The room went still.

Maya's pupils dilated. That wasn’t her presentation.

The next image snapped into focus: high-resolution shots of forged export documents… followed by visuals of black-market dealings in what looked like a factory owned by the Singhania Group.

A few of the seated Singhania representatives stiffened in their chairs.

Maya's hand shot to the trackpad, furiously trying to escape the slideshow — her heart was pounding in her ears — but the cursor refused to move. The screen flickered again.

Then it hit like a punch to the gut.

A video auto-played.

No warning, no buffer. Just sharp, raw footage.

On the screen: several young girls, terrified and disheveled, were being shoved into the back of a shipping container by masked men.

Their cries — broken, pleading — echoed throughout the room. The logo on the van: Singhania Logistics.

Someone in the conference hall gasped. A lady from the Singhania side clutched her pearls, her face twisting into horror.

Just then, Kavin rushed forward, weaving between the chairs with urgency written all over his usually composed face. He reached the podium in seconds, bending over Maya's shoulder.

“Shut it off! Stop it now!” he hissed, trying to wrestle control of the system.

Maya stood, wordless, mortified, still tapping keys.

The laptop froze completely — screen flickering, sound still playing, the cries of the girls still hauntingly loud.

"No response!" Kavin muttered under his breath, panic rising in his voice. Without hesitation, he reached down and yanked the pendrive from the USB port.

The screen went black instantly.

Silence.

But it wasn’t the calm kind. It was the kind that weighs on shoulders — heavy, horrified, disbelieving.

Every eye was now on Maya and Kavin. Every breath held in tension.

The damage was done.

Maya sat still, her breaths short and uneven. Her fingers, trembling, were still on keyboard.

Her heart pounded so violently she could hear it in her ears. She dared not look up. Not at the Singhania delegates. Not at Kavin. And definitely not at the man sitting at the head of the table.

Mr. Ramesh Singhania, red in the face, shoved his chair back violently.

“This is slander! This is a bloody trap!”

Another Singhania executive shot to his feet.

“You think you can humiliate us like this in front of everyone? This is your pathetic little power play, Mr. Mehta?”

A third voice roared from the end of the table, younger and brasher.

“We knew PSR was arrogant, but to stoop this low—leaking doctored videos to sabotage a merger? You’ve lost your damn mind!”

Fists pounded the table. Voices overlapped. A storm of indignation swelled in the room.

One of them pointed a finger at Kavin.

“Who the hell handled this presentation? Who planted this filth?”

Then, the woman — the same one who had whispered cruelly about Maya — stood, arms folded defiantly.

“Disgusting. No wonder this company is falling apart. Look at that girl — half face melted, half brain too, it seems.”

Then—Ajit moved.

Not from his seat. He didn’t have to.

He slowly uncrossed his legs and leaned forward, elbows on the table, fingers steepled. His sharp jawline cast a long shadow across his cheek as he raised his eyes to them — gleaming with unbothered frost.

The shift in energy was seismic.

He didn’t look at Maya. Not yet.

He looked at them.

“Are you all done barking like feral dogs?”

Silence clamped down.

The room froze.

Ajit's voice was calm — but carried the chill of a blade dragged across skin.

“You came here to shake hands with PSR. You came dressed in silk and perfume, hoping no one would smell the rotting bodies you buried under your empire.”

The youngest Singhania scoffed. Ajit cut him off with a slight tilt of his head.

“I let your kind in out of courtesy. What you showed today is not fury, gentlemen. It's guilt, panicking. It's filth, exposed.”

He looked to the woman now — gaze like a scalpel.

“And you — brave enough to sneer at a woman with acid on her face, but too cowardly to speak when a child’s screams echo from your own backrooms?”

The woman went rigid. Color drained from her cheeks.

Ajit’s voice dropped further, lethal in its restraint.

“You think this was sabotage? No. This—” he gestured to the screen, now dead,

“was fate.”

Then he turned his eyes — sharp, merciless — toward Mr. Singhania.

“Mr. Singhania… I run PSR, not a playground. You brought filth into my boardroom. Drug records. Smuggling routes. Screaming girls in containers. You didn’t just lose a deal here today — you buried your name.”

He clicked his fingers. Instantly, one of his aides stepped forward with a folder.

Ajit slid it across the table with elegant precision.

“This partnership is over. You’ll get a letter within 2 hours. And if I find any traces of your operation within this city again…I’ll play you something worse than a this. ”

No one spoke.

Ajit stood, finally — tall, unshaken, his black suit casting a long silhouette behind him.

“Now get the fuck out of my building.”

Shamed, furious, exposed — the Singhanias filed out like shattered statues. No one dared look back.

The grand conference room, moments ago filled with noise and chaos, had now fallen into a suffocating silence.

The heavy glass doors had closed behind the Singhania delegates with a loud thud, echoing through the stillness like a final nail.

Ajit remained standing at the head of the long mahogany table, his jaw clenched, fingers steepled under his chin. His eyes were dark, stormy—calculating.

The room’s dimmed lights bounced off his sharp features, casting shadows across his cold expression. Kavin stood still by Maya’s side, his hands tightly fisted at his sides.

Maya stood silently, her head bowed, half-burnt face slightly turned away. Her breath trembled. She had worked on that presentation until midnight. It had been flawless. But now—now it felt like the floor beneath her had vanished.

Ajit’s voice cut through the silence, low and razor-sharp.

“Miss Verma,” he said, not lifting his gaze.

Maya’s throat tightened.

“Yes… Sir,” she replied, barely above a whisper.

His voice dropped even colder.

“You made the presentation?”

“Yes… I did, sir.”

His sharp gaze landed on her for the first time, unreadable but heavy.

“Do you have any explanation for what just happened?”

Maya swallowed, her eyes stinging.

“I don’t, Sir. I swear what I prepared had nothing—”

“I’m not asking what you swear,” Ajit interrupted, his tone firm but not cruel.

“I’m asking if you have a reason.”

Maya stood mute. There was none she could offer.

Ajit walked a few steps closer, then stopped before the large PSR emblem embossed into the wall. He stared at it as if weighing something far heavier than a corporate deal.

“I’ve seen you work, Miss Verma,” he said quietly.

“I know your diligence. Your discipline. And your silence in chaos.”

A flicker of hope lit in Maya’s chest, but his next words doused it.

“But as the CEO of this company, I cannot overlook what just happened in this room. The names and faces of smuggled girls flashing across that screen… is not a simple technical glitch.”

He turned back around, eyes locked on hers.

“Until an internal inquiry proves otherwise, you are suspended from duty with immediate effect.”

Maya's legs almost gave out beneath her. She gasped slightly, blinking back the shock, the ache rising in her throat.

Kavin tried to speak. “Sir—”

Ajit held up one hand.

“This is not a discussion, Mr. Kavin.”

He looked back at Maya.

"Hand over your ID to HR before leaving.”

His voice was businesslike, but behind those eyes — there was something else.

A flicker of doubt, of inner conflict, buried deep beneath the surface of a man who didn’t have the luxury to act on instincts.

As Maya turned away, the shame and confusion wrapping tightly around her like chains, Ajit finally let his gaze follow her for just a moment. His jaw tensed, but he said nothing more.

The doors shut behind her.

And the silence returned.

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𝙏𝙊 𝘽𝙀 𝘾𝙊𝙉𝙏𝙄𝙉𝙐𝙀𝘿..