Singhania Estate – Morning
The Singhania estate was unusually quiet, the kind of calm that usually came before a storm. Inside the sun-drenched conservatory, Vyom stood near the tall French windows, sipping his black coffee, while Aaryan entered with his phone tucked in his palm, eyebrows still furrowed from the live updates he’d received from the courtroom the day before.
“She did well,” Vyom said before Aaryan could speak. “Parineeti.”
Aaryan walked over, sitting across from him. “Better than I expected,” he admitted, setting the phone on the marble table. “Ivan Petrov didn’t stand a chance against her arguments. Did you see the way she broke down that shell company trail?”
Vyom gave a small nod, but his sharp eyes remained focused out the window. “She’s intelligent, thorough. But that’s not what concerns me.”
“What does?” Aaryan asked.
Vyom finally turned toward him. “Her connection with Shaurya. Their history. The way she looks at Vikram when she thinks no one’s watching.”
Aaryan arched a brow. “And?”
“And Vikram's losing his usual detachment. He’s not observing her like a legal asset anymore. There’s... tension. Emotional.”
Aaryan leaned back, a slight smirk on his face. “So you’re saying our brother might actually feel something real?”
Vyom’s voice was level. “I’m saying he’s vulnerable. And that’s dangerous in our world.”
A pause lingered between them.
“She’s good for the case, Vyom,” Aaryan finally said, quieter. “She’s uncovering things our own internal teams couldn’t. That ghost routing scheme in Mauritius? No one else traced it that fast.”
Vyom finished his coffee and set the cup down. “She may win us the case. But if Vikram lets his guard down, we could lose everything else.”
Aaryan exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Then let’s keep watching.”
---
Gupta Mansion – Noon
The sunlight filtered through the tall glass windows of the Gupta mansion’s library, casting golden warmth across the dark wood shelves and the quiet tension in the room. Shaurya sat cross-legged on the old velvet sofa, his laptop open, the screen glowing faintly with encrypted files. Parineeti stood beside a nearby bookshelf, scanning through a hard copy of the Singhania Industries’ Mauritius account ledgers he had discreetly passed to her.
“You were right,” she muttered, flipping a page. “This routing isn’t just shady—it’s surgical. Someone spent years perfecting this system. Fake ports, fake cargo... a money-laundering dream.”
Shaurya gave a wry smile. “Told you. That ‘Powertech Imports’ is nothing but a shell. Petrov tried to bury it under layers of ghost subsidiaries.”
Parineeti sighed, folding her arms. “I thought I’d seen corporate corruption. But this…”
“This is bigger,” he finished for her. “And I’m not even sure Vikram knows the full extent.”
She looked at him sharply. “You think he’s not involved?”
Shaurya didn’t answer right away. He closed the laptop, his fingers pausing on the lid. “I don’t know. I used to believe Vikram was the kind of man who always knew everything. Now I’m not so sure. Maybe someone within his empire’s playing a longer game.”
Parineeti was silent, her thoughts churning. Then her voice came, soft but heavy: “He’s not what I expected.”
Shaurya glanced up. “Vikram?”
She nodded slowly. “He’s cold, yes. Ruthless, definitely. But there’s... something else. Beneath that perfect surface.”
“Don’t fall for that ‘something else,’ Paru,” Shaurya said quietly, a hint of protectiveness in his voice. “He’s dangerous, even if it doesn’t always show.”
Parineeti smiled faintly, but her eyes didn’t meet his. “I’m not falling for anything.”
Shaurya raised a brow. “You sure about that?”
She shot him a glare—half playful, half warning—but the silence that followed said more than either of them dared to voice.
He stood, slipping the laptop into his bag. “Be careful. This case is going to expose a lot more than shell companies.”
Parineeti nodded. “I know. Thank you, Shaurya. For this. For everything.”
He smiled. “You’re the only one I’d do this for.”
---
Gupta Mansion – Early Evening
The sun had dipped behind the neem trees lining the backyard, casting long shadows across the marble veranda. The soft clink of teacups echoed through the peaceful silence as Arun Gupta poured chai into two cups from the small kettle between them.
Parineeti joined him, slipping onto the bench beside him, her eyes tired but still focused. The day had been long, the courtroom heavy with intensity, the case digging deeper into layers of corruption.
“Rough day?” Arun asked gently, offering her the cup.
She took it with both hands and nodded. “The first hearing went well, but the case is deep, Papa. Too many names. Too much at stake.”
He studied her face. “And Vikram?”
Parineeti blinked, caught off-guard by the question. “What about him?”
Arun sipped his tea, his gaze calm. “He’s always careful with words. But today, after court, when he came to ask my permission to take you out for lunch… there was something in his eyes. A kind of urgency I haven’t seen before.”
She was quiet, staring into the swirl of her tea. “He’s not easy to read. But he trusts me with this case. And for someone like Vikram Singhania, that means something.”
“You admire him,” Arun said plainly, watching her reaction.
Parineeti gave a soft exhale. “I don’t know what I feel. There’s a wall between us. But at the same time… he doesn’t pretend with me. It’s frustrating and honest at the same time.”
Arun didn’t push. He placed a comforting hand over hers. “Whatever this is, you’ll handle it with the same clarity you bring to your work. I trust you.”
She smiled, leaning slightly into his shoulder. “Thank you, Papa.”
They sat there a while longer, surrounded by the quiet hum of cicadas and the soft rustle of evening wind, two hearts finding stillness amid chaos.
---
The rest of the house had gone quiet.
After dinner, Parineeti had excused herself, claiming exhaustion. But instead of retreating to her room, she wandered softly down the familiar corridor that led to her mother’s private lounge—a quiet room lit by warm lamps and scented lightly of sandalwood and jasmine. The door was open, as always.
Justice Leela sat on the divan by the window, her reading glasses perched low on her nose, a thick hardcover resting open on her lap. The dim lamplight painted her sharp features in gentle hues, softening the firm lines etched by years on the bench and battles in the courtroom. Yet here, she was just a mother.
Parineeti stood at the doorway for a moment, watching. A quiet yearning bloomed in her chest, one she couldn’t name—part ache, part comfort.
Leela looked up. “Paru?” Her voice was low, calm.
Parineeti didn’t reply. She walked in slowly, barefoot, and without a word, curled herself beside her mother, resting her head gently on her lap like she had done as a child. Her silk kurta rustled faintly against the cushions.
Justice Leela’s hand moved instinctively to her daughter’s hair, combing through the long, dark strands with a mother’s quiet affection. “Tough day?”
Parineeti nodded, her eyes fixed on nothing. “Emotionally… draining.”
“The case?”
She hesitated. “Yes. And no.”
Leela paused. Her hand slowed. “Vikram?”
Parineeti’s lips parted, but no sound came out. She stared ahead for a long moment before whispering, “He’s not what I expected.”
“And what did you expect?” her mother asked, gently.
“A man too used to power. Dangerous, calculating, maybe even cruel. And he is all of that… but he’s also—” she stopped herself. “He’s something more.”
Leela said nothing, simply letting the silence breathe.
Parineeti’s voice was quieter now. “When he looks at me, it’s like he’s seeing every move I’ll make before I make it. Like I’m being read. And yet… he listens. Not just hears, but listens. It’s unnerving.”
Leela’s hand moved rhythmically through her daughter’s hair. “And how does that make you feel?”
“Like I’m caught between wanting to push him away… and understand him,” Parineeti admitted. “Today, after the hearing, he took me out for lunch. With Papa’s permission, of course. It was supposed to be a gesture of thanks.”
“And?”
“And it wasn’t just that.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “He proposed.”
Justice Leela’s hand stilled.
Parineeti slowly sat up, folding her legs beneath her, facing her mother now. “He said it so simply. Like he’d been thinking it for a while. Like it wasn’t a big deal. But I saw his eyes. It was a big deal.”
Leela studied her daughter carefully. “And what did you say?”
“I didn’t say anything,” Parineeti confessed. “I froze. I was still processing the court arguments, still trying to stay professional, and then this. I wasn’t prepared. I’m still not.”
“You don’t have to be,” Leela said softly, brushing a strand of hair behind her daughter’s ear. “You’re allowed to feel conflicted. This man… he’s powerful, yes. He’s complicated. But you’re not a girl who’ll be swept away by power, Paru. I know that. So does he, I think.”
Parineeti looked down, her fingers twisting in the edge of her dupatta. “He’s not just another client, Maa. There’s something about him. It terrifies me… and draws me in at the same time.”
Leela’s gaze was steady. “That’s how all great storms begin.”
They sat in silence for a while, the gentle hum of the night cocooning them.
Parineeti leaned forward again, laying her head on her mother’s lap once more. “What if I lose myself, Maa? What if I forget who I am around him?”
“You won’t,” Justice Leela said without hesitation. “Because I didn’t raise a girl who fades in the presence of fire. I raised one who commands it.”
A soft smile touched Parineeti’s lips, her chest tightening with quiet emotion. “He’s not easy, Maa. There are layers to him I haven’t even begun to understand. He’s haunted. I can feel it.”
“Then don’t be afraid to look into those shadows,” her mother said. “But don’t lose your light in them, either.”
Parineeti closed her eyes, letting her mother’s hand stroke her hair in slow, comforting patterns.
“Whatever happens,” Justice Leela whispered, bending slightly to kiss her daughter’s forehead, “you’ll find your way through it. And if this is love—no matter how twisted or imperfect—then let it unfold on your terms.”
Outside, the night deepened. And in her mother’s embrace, Parineeti let herself feel the full weight of the storm stirring inside her—complex, turbulent, but no longer so frightening.
---
Vikram’s POV – Midnight, Singhania Estate
The night outside was quiet, but Vikram’s mind refused to rest.
He sat in the study, blazer draped over the back of the chair, sleeves rolled to his elbows, a half-drunk glass of scotch forgotten by his side. The documents on the desk lay open, but unread. His thoughts were elsewhere—stuck in the past, tangled with guilt and resentment.
Rohit.
Even now, the name brought a dull ache to his chest.
Rohit Bedi had been more than just a friend—he had been a brother. A firebrand who cared too deeply, who dug into shadows that were better left untouched. Vikram still remembered the night Rohit had confided in him, voice low, eyes burning with a sense of purpose.
“There’s a ring. Something dangerous. Children. Power. I need to expose them, Vikram.”
Vikram had tried to warn him. Tried to shield him. When the threats started, he used every contact, every backchannel to get Rohit out. But Rohit had insisted on staying.
And when he vanished… when the system labelled it an accident, only two people had truly grieved him—Vikram and Prabhas.
But where Vikram carried the weight of trying to protect him, Prabhas carried the belief that he’d been betrayed.
The silence between them had begun there. And festered over the years.
Now, that silence felt heavier than ever—because he’d proposed to Parineeti.
Parineeti.
The girl Prabhas guarded with his life. The sister he adored. The only one who could match Vikram word for word, fire for fire.
Vikram exhaled, rubbing his forehead.
He hadn’t planned to propose. Not so soon. But something in her—the way she challenged him, the way she listened without flinching, the way she made him feel… seen—it undid his careful control.
And the moment had slipped out.
“Marry me.”
Her stunned silence still echoed in his ears. But beyond that, he knew what this meant.
He couldn’t go forward without making peace with the past.
With Prabhas.
He leaned back in the chair, the shadows deep around him.
It was time. Time to tell Prabhas everything—about Rohit, about what really happened, about the layers of threats Vikram had kept hidden. He’d protected people in silence for too long. But silence hadn’t earned him understanding—only suspicion.
And now, for Parineeti… he would break it.
Not to earn approval.
But to make sure that when she made her choice, it wouldn’t be shadowed by old ghosts.
He picked up his phone, hesitating for only a second before typing out a message to Prabhas.
We need to talk. About Rohit. About everything.
He hit send
The message hung on the screen for a moment before it disappeared into the void of the chat thread. Vikram stared at the phone long after it had been sent, as if waiting for the weight of it to lift from his chest. But it didn’t.
He knew Prabhas might not respond. Might even lash out.
But he had to try.
Because the truth was, for all his power and calculated control, Vikram Singhania had always been a man who bore his burdens alone. And Rohit's death—Rohit’s disappearance—had never stopped haunting him.
A quiet knock on the door broke through his thoughts.
It was Vyom. Always quiet, always composed. He didn’t enter until Vikram nodded.
Vyom stepped in, his gaze flicking to the untouched drink, then back to Vikram’s expression. “You look like you’ve just set off a bomb.”
Vikram smirked faintly, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Maybe I did.”
Vyom arched a brow, waiting.
“I messaged Prabhas,” Vikram said after a moment. “Told him we need to talk. About Rohit.”
Vyom's eyes sharpened. He moved closer, folding his arms. “That’s overdue. Years overdue.”
“I know.”
“He might not believe you.”
“I’m not doing it to be believed.” Vikram’s tone was quiet. “I’m doing it because if I’m asking Parineeti to consider a future with me, she deserves the full truth—even the ugly parts. Even the ones that might cost me everything.”
There was a pause.
Vyom looked at him differently now—not as his first-in-command, but as his oldest friend. “You still love her.”
Vikram didn’t answer immediately. He stood, walked to the window, looking out at the night that stretched far beyond the estate walls.
“I don’t know what this is yet,” he said finally. “But when I’m with her, I feel… present. Like the world stops spinning long enough for me to breathe.”
“Does she feel the same?” Vyom asked gently.
“I think she’s trying to fight it,” Vikram admitted. “Like she’s afraid of what it means to feel something for me.”
Vyom stepped forward, his voice lower now. “Then give her a reason not to be.”
Vikram turned toward him, eyes tired but determined.
“I will.”
The silence lingered between them—thick but charged with purpose.
Because this wasn’t just about love. It was about redemption. About making things right before he asked for something as irrevocable as her trust.
“I need to talk to Meera too,” Vikram added, voice lower now. “There’s something about Rohit she never told me… something my father took to his grave.”
Vyom’s eyes flickered. “You think her silence is part of this?”
“I think…” Vikram’s jaw tightened. “...there’s more to my father’s death than just a heart attack. And if I don’t uncover it, it’ll come back to destroy everything. Including her.”
And with that, he turned back to his desk.
The night was far from over.
And the ghosts of the past were no longer content to stay buried.
___________________________
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