The room felt suffocating.
Silence pressed down from all sides.
The photograph still lay on the table.
Unmoved.
Unforgiving.
And in front of it stood Anaya Sen… completely shattered.
Her fingers trembled slightly as she stared at the image again.
Her father.
Standing beside Viktor Dragovich.
Smiling.
Like they belonged together.
"No…" she whispered.
Her voice broke.
"This… this can't be real…"
Behind her, Aryan Malhotra stood still.
Watching.
Observing.
But not moving closer this time.
Because something had changed.
Trust.
Or maybe… doubt.
Anaya turned suddenly.
Her eyes were filled with tears.
"Say something!"
Aryan didn't respond immediately.
His gaze was sharp.
Careful.
Like he was seeing her for the first time.
"You knew…" she said, her voice trembling.
Aryan's jaw tightened slightly.
"I suspected."
That word hit her harder than anything else.
"Suspected?" she repeated.
"And you still—"
She stopped.
Her chest rose and fell unevenly.
"You still brought me into this?" she finished.
Aryan stepped forward slowly.
"This was already around you."
Anaya shook her head.
"No… you dragged me into it!"
Her voice echoed in the room.
Anger.
Pain.
Confusion.
Everything mixed together.
"You knew my father was connected to him!"
Aryan's voice turned colder.
"I knew he was hiding something."
Anaya let out a bitter laugh.
"And you thought I knew too?"
Silence.
That silence gave her the answer.
Her eyes widened.
"You did…"
Aryan didn't deny it.
Didn't confirm it either.
But his eyes said enough.
Something inside her broke completely.
"You think I'm lying?" she whispered.
Aryan looked at her.
His voice was low.
"I think you don't know everything."
That was enough.
Anaya stepped back.
Like his words had physically hurt her.
"I trusted you…" she said quietly.
Aryan's expression flickered for a second.
But he didn't respond.
Didn't step closer.
And that hurt more.
"Look at me," she said.
Aryan didn't move.
"Look at me!" she repeated, louder this time.
Slowly…
He lifted his gaze.
Their eyes met.
And Anaya felt it instantly.
That change.
That doubt.
"Don't…" her voice cracked.
"Don't look at me like that."
For the first time—
She looked scared of him.
Not the danger.
Not the mafia.
Him.
"I don't know anything about this," she said.
Her voice shaking now.
"I didn't even know my father had another name…"
Aryan's eyes softened slightly.
But not enough.
"Then why did Viktor say you look like him?" he asked quietly.
Anaya froze.
"I don't know…"
Her voice dropped to a whisper.
"I don't know anything anymore…"
Silence filled the room again.
But this time—
It was painful.
Aryan finally moved.
Slowly walking toward her.
Anaya didn't step back.
Didn't run.
But she didn't move closer either.
He stopped just inches away.
His voice lowered.
"If you're hiding something…"
"…this is your last chance to tell me."
Anaya looked up at him.
Tears finally slipping down her cheeks.
"I'm not hiding anything…"
A pause.
Then—
"But you are."
Aryan's words cut deep.
Her breath caught.
Before she could respond—
A loud sound came from the table.
Both of them turned.
A hidden drawer had suddenly opened on its own.
Inside—
A small metal box.
The same type Aryan had shown before.
The chip container.
Anaya frowned.
"What is that doing here?"
Aryan walked toward it slowly.
His expression darkening with every step.
"This room is locked…"
He whispered.
"No one enters without my permission."
Then his voice dropped further.
"Except…"
He turned slowly.
Looking straight at Anaya.
"…someone who already has access."
Her heart stopped.
"What are you saying?"
Aryan picked up the box.
Opened it.
And inside—
Another chip.
Identical.
His eyes hardened instantly.
"This wasn't here before."
The room went cold.
Anaya stepped back.
"No… I didn't—"
But her words faded.
Because deep inside…
A strange feeling rose.
Something she couldn't explain.
Like a memory trying to surface.
Something buried.
Hidden.
Forgotten.
She held her head suddenly.
"Aryan…"
Her voice shook.
"I… I feel like…"
He stepped closer.
"What?"
Her eyes widened slightly.
"I've seen this before…"
Silence.
Heavy.
Dangerous.
Aryan's grip tightened around the chip.
Because if that was true—
Then everything was about to change.