Delhi was hotter than Dehradun. Not just in temperature. In tension.
Aarya found Karan Malhotra's office in Connaught Place. A whole building with his name in gold. KARAN MALHOTRA - REAL ESTATE & DEVELOPERS.
She walked in. Marble floors. Air conditioning. Beautiful receptionist.
"I need to meet Mr. Karan Malhotra."
"Do you have an appointment?"
"Tell him it's his niece. From Dehradun."
The receptionist's face changed. She picked up the phone. Whispered. Nodded.
"Fifth floor. He'll see you."
The elevator ride felt like going to death row.
Fifth floor. A huge cabin with glass walls. And behind the desk, a man.
Fifty-five years old. Expensive suit. Grey hair perfectly styled. Gold watch. And eyes like a snake. Cold. Empty. Deadly.
Karan Malhotra. Her uncle. Her father's brother. Her mother's target. Her family's destroyer.
"Come in, Aarya. Sit."
His voice was smooth. Too smooth.
She sat.
"You look like your father. Same nose. Same stubborn chin."
"Don't talk about my father."
Karan smiled. A predator's smile.
"I heard about your mother. Very sad. Accidents happen."
"You killed her."
"No. I didn't. But I know who did. And I know why."
"Tell me."
Karan leaned back in his chair.
"1984. You know now. Your mother was that little girl. She spent thirty years waiting. She married my brother to get close to me. Smart woman. Brave woman. But revenge takes time, and time runs out."
"Who killed her?"
"Someone who doesn't want the truth to come out. Someone who was also there in 1984. Someone you haven't met yet."
"Who?"
Karan stood up and walked to the window.
"I'll give you seven days, Aarya. Seven days to leave Delhi. Go back to Dehradun. Forget everything. Live your life."
"And if I don't?"
He turned around. No smile now.
"Then you'll join your parents. And your mother's family. And everyone else who got in my way."
Aarya stood up. Shaking but standing.
"I'm not leaving. I'm going to find the truth. I'm going to find who killed my mother. I'm going to find who helped you in 1984. And I'm going to make sure everyone knows what you did."
Karan laughed. A cold, hollow laugh.
"Seven days, niece. Day one starts now."
Aarya walked out.
In the corridor, a young man was waiting. Late twenties. Jeans and shirt. Intelligent eyes.
"Aarya?"
"Yes?"
"I'm Aryan. I'm a journalist. I've been investigating Karan for two years. We need to talk."
"Why should I trust you?"
"Because I know who killed your mother. And it wasn't Karan."
Aarya's heart stopped.
"Who?"
"Not here. Too many cameras. Meet me at India Gate tonight. 8 PM. Come alone."
He walked away before she could ask more.
Aarya stood there, in the marble corridor of her uncle's building, with seven days to live and a stranger who knew the truth.