The next morning dawned grey and unsettled, as though the sky itself sensed the brewing storm within the Raichand mansion.
Anaya sat alone in the breakfast nook, her hands wrapped around a cup of steaming chai, her mind far from the warm comfort it offered. The folder Kavya had unearthed—full of evidence, painful truths, and buried horrors—was still on her desk upstairs, weighing on her like a stone tied to her chest.
Aarav had barely spoken a word since they left the west wing. He had shut down again, retreating into the cold shell he wore like armor. She understood it now—not as rudeness or arrogance, but as survival. To live in this house, to bear the Raichand name, one had to bury their heart deep and lock it away.
But Anaya wasn't raised like that. She wasn't born with secrets as currency. She wanted answers. And if Aarav couldn't—or wouldn't—provide them, she would find them herself.
She was halfway up the stairs when she heard voices—Aarav and his father, Raghav Raichand.
"Let it go, Aarav. She's gone. You cannot change the past," Raghav said sharply.
"I'm not trying to change it," Aarav replied, his voice low but intense. "I'm trying to stop it from repeating."
There was silence. Then Raghav's cold laughter echoed down the hall. "And you think that little contract bride of yours can help you cleanse this family?"
"She's not just a contract anymore," Aarav said.
Anaya's breath caught.
There was a pause before Raghav's voice hardened. "Then you've already made your first mistake."
---
Later that day, Aarav found her in the garden, pruning the roses. His gaze lingered on her for a long time before he finally spoke.
"You heard us."
Anaya nodded but didn't look at him. "You said I'm not just a contract anymore."
He stepped closer, his shadow falling over her. "You're not."
Her hands stilled, but her heart didn't. It was racing.
"Then what am I?" she asked softly.
Aarav hesitated. He was a man who commanded boardrooms, crushed competitors with a glance, and carried the weight of a legacy on his shoulders—but this question, from this woman, seemed to unravel him.
"You're the only person who's looked at me and seen more than my surname," he said finally. "And that terrifies me."
Anaya turned, their eyes locking. "I'm terrified too. But I'm still here."
The tension between them pulsed like electricity. For a moment, it felt like the whole world narrowed to just the two of them.
Then Aarav reached for her hand, his voice barely above a whisper. "Then stay. And help me bring the truth to light."
---
That night, the quiet peace was shattered.
Anaya was in the study, going through Meera's diary again, when the lights flickered. A second later, the window shattered—glass spraying everywhere—as a brick flew through it and landed with a heavy thud on the floor.
Aarav came running in, followed by two security guards. He scanned the scene, his expression turning to fury as he picked up the brick.
Taped to it was a note, scrawled in angry red ink:
"Dig any deeper and you'll be buried too."
Anaya's hands shook. It wasn't just a warning. It was a threat.
Aarav's voice was a growl. "Get the cameras. I want footage. Now."
Within the hour, their tech team pulled up the security feed. A hooded figure, face obscured, had hurled the brick before disappearing into the night.
"It was deliberate," Aarav said grimly. "They knew what we're uncovering."
"But who?" Anaya asked.
He didn't answer right away. Instead, he walked to the cabinet and pulled out an old family photo. Anaya peered over his shoulder. It was taken years ago—Aarav, his parents, Kavya, and another man Anaya didn't recognize.
"Who's that?" she asked, pointing to the unfamiliar face.
Aarav hesitated. "That's Dev Raichand. My father's cousin. He was once next in line to run the company—until Meera exposed some of his shady dealings. After her death, he was quietly exiled, but never disowned."
"You think he's back?"
"I think he never left. And now he's reminding us."
---
The days that followed were tense. The mansion was on lockdown. Anaya wasn't allowed to leave without an escort. Aarav doubled the security, moved sensitive files to encrypted cloud storage, and even had bodyguards tailing Kavya—though she protested furiously.
But it was too late. The enemy was already inside.
One evening, as Anaya returned to her room, she noticed her wardrobe slightly ajar. She hadn't left it that way. Cautiously, she approached. Inside, her clothes were undisturbed—but her desk drawer wasn't. The folder Kavya had given her was gone.
She ran to Aarav's room. "The files. They're missing."
His expression turned to ice. "They're getting bolder."
"We have to act," she said, breathless. "Go public. Go to the board. Show them the truth."
He shook his head. "It's not that simple. We need undeniable proof—and we need to protect ourselves before they turn the board against us."
Anaya stepped closer. "You asked me to stay. To help you fight. I'm not going to watch from the sidelines while someone tries to erase the truth."
Aarav's jaw clenched. "You could be in danger."
She smiled, the kind of smile that didn't come from innocence but from strength. "I already am."
He looked at her for a long moment, then nodded.
"Then we fight together."