⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟑𝟖˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆
The glass doors of Starlight Corporation burst open with a violent push, and in walked Vidyut Rajvansh.
His towering frame, sharp suit, and blazing eyes made the entire reception hall fall into silence.
The faint hum of whispers began to ripple—
"He's the CEO of VR Empire.
..''
"What is he doing here?"
"He looks furious. .."
Employees froze mid-step, some even clutching files tighter as though the air had grown heavier. His reputation preceded him—everyone in the corporate world knew Vidyut Rajvansh was not a man to be crossed.
The receptionist, a young woman, immediately scrambled to her feet, rushing forward nervously.
"S-sir...?" her voice shook.
Vidyut didn't waste a second. His jaw was tight, voice sharp, deadly calm.
"Mr. Avinash Gupta."
Just his tone was enough to make her shiver. Without daring to ask further, she picked up the phone with trembling hands, dialing hastily. Within seconds, she gestured for him to follow. Vidyut's shoes clicked against the marble floor, every step echoing like a warning bell.
She guided him into a private boardroom—the kind reserved for VPs and top-level discussions. Vidyut stood there, hands in fists, his rage simmering dangerously.
Not even two minutes later, the door opened and in walked Avinash Gupta, CEO of Starlight, a man in his late forties with a composed, authoritative air.
He straightened his coat, walking with the arrogance of power, but the moment his eyes met Vidyut's, his confident stride faltered for a split second.
Still, Avinash extended his hand politely, masking his unease.
"Mr. Rajvansh, what a surprise. I wasn't expecting you here today."
But Vidyut didn't take the hand. His eyes, burning with fury, bored into Avinash like knives. The room chilled, the air thick, as if violence itself had walked in with him.
Vidyut's voice came low, sharp, every word dipped in venom—
"I'm not here for pleasantries, Mr. Gupta."
Vidyut didn't waste a second. His words came out like a command, sharp enough to slice through the air.
"Who took today's interviews?"
Avinash blinked, caught off guard. "Interviews?" He shifted uneasily, trying to gauge Vidyut's intent.
"Call them. Now." Vidyut's tone left no room for hesitation.
For a moment, silence stretched. Avinash, visibly unsettled, gave a short nod and signaled the receptionist. Within minutes, the same two men who had sat across from Ritvika earlier walked in— files in hand, expressions confused.
Their eyes flicked between their boss and the man who stood like a storm waiting to break.
Vidyut's gaze hardened the instant he saw them.
His fists clenched at his sides, jaw tightening.
The men swallowed hard, exchanging nervous glances, because this wasn't just any CEO standing there—it was Vidyut Rajvansh, a man whose name carried weight heavier than empires, and whose wrath was known to ruin careers overnight.
Avinash cleared his throat, attempting civility. "Mr. Rajvansh, these are the ones who took today's interviews. But may I ask... why do you—"
He didn't finish. Because the moment his eyes met Vidyut's blazing ones, words died in his throat. The sheer fury, the restrained violence simmering in those eyes, froze him in place.
The two interviewers instinctively straightened their backs, suddenly aware that their positions, their jobs—even their futures—were dangling by a single thread Vidyut could cut at any moment.
Vidyut's voice finally broke the silence. Low. Controlled. Dangerous.
"So, it was you."
The room was heavy with silence until Vidyut finally spoke, his voice cutting sharp and cold.
"Tell me... did a candidate named Ritvika come today?"
The two men exchanged quick glances, confusion flickering in their eyes. One of them cleared his throat.
"Ritvika...?" He frowned, searching his memory. Then suddenly, recognition dawned.
"Ah—yes, sir. Ms. Ritvika Kapoor."
The name hit Vidyut like a punch to the gut. Kapoor. His jaw tightened, but he forced his expression to remain unreadable. Only the deadly gleam in his eyes betrayed the storm building inside him.
The second man quickly added, almost eager to show efficiency.
"Yes, sir. She came in today. The same one who had worked in your company before, VR Empire."
For a second, Vidyut's gaze sharpened further, but he stayed silent, letting them talk.
The first interviewer gave a small laugh, as if the matter were already closed.
"But don't worry, sir. We rejected her."
That single word rejected clawed into Vidyut's chest.
The other man nodded in agreement, oblivious to the growing darkness in Vidyut's face.
"Yes, sir. How could we hire someone who resigned from such a prestigious company like yours?
We immediately suspected something was wrong.
It didn't look right—no prior internships, no industry exposure, and suddenly, a direct entry into VR Empire?
Too fishy. We concluded she wasn't reliable. So, naturally, we didn't consider her."
He straightened his shoulders, like he had done a service.
"Rest assured, sir. We don't take such risks here. Rejecting her was the right decision."
A dangerous silence followed.
Vidyut's knuckles went white around the edge of the table. His breath was steady, but his chest heaved with suppressed rage. His eyes—burning, cold, lethal—lifted to meet theirs.
And in that silence, every man in the room realized—
They had just signed their own death warrant.
The silence stretched like a noose.
Then suddenly—Vidyut moved. His hand shot out and in a blink he had one of the interviewers by the throat, slamming him against the glass wall of the room.
The man choked, his feet half dangling, eyes bulging with fear. The second interviewer froze in horror, while Avinash Gupta stood rooted, unable to even breathe.
Vidyut's voice was a low growl, every syllable laced with venom.
"Fishy? Unreliable? Who the hell are you to decide her worth?"
The man clawed at Vidyut's hand, gasping, but Vidyut only tightened his grip. His other hand clenched into a fist at his side, his jaw rigid, his eyes blazing red fury.
"She sat here with courage. She answered you with dignity. And you..." he leaned closer, his lips near the man's ear, "...you dared to dismiss her as if she's nothing."
The second interviewer stammered, "S-sir... we didn't mean—"
Vidyut's glare cut him off mid-sentence.
"Shut. Your. Mouth."
The room was suffocating, air thick with his rage. Avinash, beads of sweat forming at his temple, finally managed to whisper, "M-Mr. Rajvansh... please... let's discuss this calmly—"
Vidyut's hand loosened suddenly, and the man collapsed to the floor, coughing and trembling. Vidyut looked down at him with sheer disgust.
The man still gasped on the floor when Vidyut's voice cut through the suffocating silence.
"She is a dedicated person. Do you even know?" His tone was sharp, precise, every word hitting like steel. "She worked merely twenty days in my company, and in those twenty days there was profit no loss at all."
The interviewers blinked in shock. Vidyut's eyes narrowed further.
"And the best part? Most of the time she worked online.
Not even physically present. Yet her results spoke louder than your entire panel ever could.
So tell me—" he leaned forward, voice venomous, "who the hell are you to question her worth in front of me? "
The second interviewer, shaking, dared to stammer, "S-sir, then... why are you taking her side so much?"
That was a mistake.
Vidyut's rage sharpened. His eyes burned with a deadly promise as he snarled, "If you want to breathe tomorrow... then listen carefully." His voice dropped to a lethal whisper, more terrifying than a shout.
"You will send her an email again. Not a rejection. A guarantee. Write it clearly—job confirmed. Understood?"
Both men nodded frantically, their foreheads damp with sweat.
But Vidyut wasn't done.
"And tomorrow morning.
.. when she wakes up , that mail should already be there.
I want it sharp at 6:15 in her inbox. Not a second late.
Not a damn minute. If it's late—" he let the unfinished sentence linger like a noose around their necks, his silence deadlier than any words.
"U-understood, sir," they whispered, their voices trembling.
Vidyut straightened his coat, his gaze unblinking. Then he turned his head toward Avinash Gupta, his tone cold but firm.
"And there are some more things I want to clear with you, Mr. Gupta."
Avinash's breath caught, dread pooling in his gut.
Vidyut tilted his chin at the trembling interviewers.
"Dismiss them."
The two men practically ran out, stumbling over themselves to escape.
Now the room fell silent again—only Vidyut and Avinash remained.
Avinash blinked nervously, still trying to gather his courage when Vidyut's voice struck again.
"Ritvika will join your office. But under one condition—she will work for only four hours. Understood?"
Avinash's brows furrowed. "Four hours...? Mr. Rajvansh, I don't quite understand—"
Vidyut cut him off, his tone sharp.
"10 AM to 2 PM. That's it. No extension. No overtime. Four hours, fixed."
Avinash swallowed. His confusion deepened as he dared to ask, "But sir, may I ask... why so little time? Our standard schedule is—"
Vidyut's glare froze him mid-sentence.
"Because I said so." His voice was iron. "You don't need to question it—you just need to follow it."
Avinash nodded quickly, fear tightening his chest. But his relief lasted only seconds before Vidyut continued, his words heavier than steel.
"Now, about her salary."
Avinash stiffened.
"She will be paid the exact amount that VR Empire had decided for her."
Avinash's throat ran dry. "S-sir... but... with due respect, that salary was—" He hesitated, then forced the words out, "that was a senior-level package. We're talking at least 1.5 lakhs per month. For a four-hour shift... at a junior role... how can I justify that much?"
Vidyut's jaw clenched, his eyes blazing. He leaned forward, his presence suffocating.
"You don't justify it, Mr. Gupta. You deliver it."
Avinash blinked, stunned into silence.
Vidyut's tone dropped lower, colder. "She will work four hours. She will get the salary I said. And if you think your company cannot afford it..." he paused, letting the silence choke the air, "...then maybe your company doesn't deserve to breathe in the market anymore."
Avinash's entire body went cold.
"I–I understand, sir," he stammered. "She will be treated exactly as you've instructed."
Vidyut's lips curved into something that wasn't quite a smile.
"Good. Remember—you're not doing her a favor. You're ensuring your own survival."
Avinash stood frozen, torn between fear and reason, when Vidyut suddenly pulled out his chequebook from his coat pocket. The sharp scratch of the pen against paper echoed in the heavy silence.
A moment later, Vidyut tore out the cheque and placed it firmly on the table in front of Avinash.
"Every month," Vidyut said coldly, "this cheque of 1.5 lakhs will reach your company. So there is no loss on your end."
Avinash blinked, stunned.
"This is the salary you will pay to Ritvika.
Whether she works for four hours or one—you will ensure it is credited to her account.
In return, you are only getting profit. For four hours of work, you gain her skills, her dedication, her name linked to your company.
So don't think of it as a burden. Think of it as an investment. "
Avinash's throat bobbed as he tried to speak, but words refused to form.
Vidyut leaned forward, his voice dropping lower, each syllable weighted with warning.
"And with this, you can assure me—she will never face any problem here, right?"
Avinash immediately nodded, panic flashing in his eyes. "Y-yes, sir. Absolutely. Ms. Kapoor will never face any problem in our office. You have my word."
Vidyut's expression hardened further, his gaze piercing.
"See that your word doesn't break, Mr. Gupta. Because once it does, neither you nor your company will be left standing to give me another excuse."
The living room echoed with Tara's cries. Her tiny fists rubbed against her teary eyes as she sobbed uncontrollably. Ritvika knelt beside her, voice soft, desperate to soothe.
"Bas, Tara... please ro mat. Dadda aayenge... thodi der mein aayenge."
(Enough, Tara... please don't cry. Dadda will come... he'll be here soon.)
But Tara wasn't listening. Her little lips trembled as she wailed louder, her broken words piercing Ritvika's heart.
"Muhe dadda taahiye... abhi!"
(I want dadda... right now!)
Ritvika hugged her close, her own eyes moistening, but nothing worked. Tara wriggled free and stomped her feet, the house filled with her helpless sobs.
And then—
Ding-dong.
The doorbell rang. Tara froze mid-cry, her watery eyes widening in instant recognition. Without a second thought, she scrambled to her feet and dashed towards the door, her little legs wobbling but determined.
Ritvika followed quickly, worried, but before she could stop her, the door swung open.
There he was.
Vidyut stood tall, his face still shadowed by the storm he had just unleashed at Starlight. But before he could even step in, Tara flung herself at him, latching onto his leg with all her strength.
Like a tiny monkey, she clung to him, her arms wrapped tight, her sobs dissolving into hiccups.
"Daddaaaaa..." she breathed out between tears, clutching his leg as if letting go would mean losing him forever.
Dinner was unusually quiet. The clinking of spoons against plates filled the room, but not a word was spoken.
Tara babbled here and there, her tiny voice breaking the silence, yet Ritvika's face remained blank.
Her eyes were distant, her thoughts somewhere far away, and the smile that usually bloomed for Tara wasn't there tonight.
Vidyut noticed. Every second. Every bite. Her silence weighed heavier on him than any anger could.
Soon, it was time to sleep. Ritvika carefully folded the blanket, spreading it over the bed. Her voice finally broke the silence, steady but laced with pain.
"You stayed here because of Tara only. Bas isliye.
.. kyunki woh aapse chipak gayi thi, aur main.
.. mainne isliye allow kiya kyunki mujhe meri beti jaan se bhi zyaada pyaari hai.
And when i say something about my daughter I mean it.
Kuch logon ki tarah nahi jo kuch din pyaar dikhate hain aur phir sab khatam. .."
(You stayed here only because Tara wasn't leaving you, and I allowed it because my daughter is dearer to me than my life. And when I say something for my daughter, I mean it. Unlike some people who show affection for a few days and then disappear...)
Her eyes flicked at him sharply before turning away. "So you're living here just for some days, okay? Once I make Tara understand, you'll go from here."
The words hit like knives. Vidyut's throat tightened, his gaze dropped to the floor, shame consuming him—not just for himself but for the weight of his family's sins on his shoulders.
Ritvika turned, lifting another blanket. Her voice was firm, though it cracked faintly at the edges.
"You can sleep here... with Tara. But make sure she doesn't get hurt. I will sleep in another room."
Vidyut's head snapped up instantly, eyes wide.
"But... we all can sleep in this room only, like we used to... in my mansion... and in the Rajvansh mansion?"
Her lips curved into a bitter, humorless smile.
"We used to sleep there in one room because in your mansion there was Lata kaki. And in the Rajvansh mansion... I thought, maybe... just maybe, you were changing. But I was wrong."
Her words twisted inside him like a blade. She picked up her blanket, determined to walk away.
But Vidyut's voice stopped her.
"Okay... then I will sleep in another room. You stay here."
For the first time that night, there was no demand in his voice, no attempt to control—only quiet resignation. His eyes lingered on Tara, then back to Ritvika, heavy with a guilt he couldn't wash away.
Ritvika sighed, clutching the blanket in her hand. "The other room doesn't even have AC or a fan. Roohi already complained and nobody has come to fix it yet. You can't sleep there."
Vidyut looked at her, his brows knitting. "Then how will you sleep there, hmm?" he asked quietly, the edge of concern slipping through his voice.
She stiffened. "I can manage," she muttered, starting to walk toward the door.
But his voice stopped her again. "Ritvika, listen.
.. we all can sleep in this room only. See—problem solved.
I'll sleep on the couch. And besides..." he glanced toward the small bundle curled under the blanket, ".
..what if Tara doesn't sleep without me?
And what if she wakes up in the middle of the night looking for you?
She's a child, Ritvika... she needs both of us. "
Ritvika's eyes flickered toward Tara instinctively. Her heart clenched—because she knew he was right. Tara shifted in her sleep, mumbling something that sounded like "dadda."
Vidyut softened his voice further, almost pleading now. "Please... at least for Tara. Don't make her choose between us in her sleep."
Ritvika stood frozen, the blanket pressed to her chest. For a moment she wanted to argue, to hold her ground. But then Tara stirred again, her tiny hand stretching out into the empty space between them as if searching.
Her lips parted, but no words came. Finally, with a heavy exhale, she walked back inside and placed the blanket on the bed.
Vidyut immediately moved toward the couch without another word, his actions silent proof of his promise. Ritvika turned away quickly, unwilling to let him see how much that small surrender shook her heart.
It was well past midnight. The room was silent except for the soft hum of the AC and Tara's gentle breathing. Ritvika lay curled protectively beside her daughter, both fast asleep, their faces calm and untroubled.
But Vidyut couldn't close his eyes. Restlessness gnawed at him, regret keeping him wide awake. He pushed himself up from the couch and stepped out quietly into the dimly lit living room. His gaze fell on the unopened box in the corner—the same one he had sent days ago with medicines and supplies.
For a moment he just stood there, staring at it as a lump formed in his throat. With a heavy sigh, he crouched down, opened it, and pulled out a small bottle of oil.
Warming it gently in his palms, he returned to the bedroom. His eyes lingered first on Tara, her little fist clutching a corner of Ritvika's dupatta even in sleep. Then his gaze shifted to Ritvika—her face pale from exhaustion, her body tense even in rest.
Quietly, he sat at the edge of the bed. With trembling hands, he lifted one of her feet into his lap. She didn't stir. Slowly, tenderly, he began to massage her soles with the warm oil, his thumbs pressing circles into the tired skin.
His voice was barely a whisper, broken and choked. "I'm... I'm sorry." The words slipped out again and again as if trying to heal wounds that went far deeper than the body. "I'm sorry for everything, Ritvika... sorry for what I've done to you... sorry for what I've taken from you."
His eyes burned, but he blinked the tears away, afraid even of letting them fall on her skin. He just kept working his hands over her feet gently, pouring every ounce of guilt, remorse, and love he couldn't say aloud into that silent act of care.
The first rays of dawn slipped through the curtains, softening the room in pale gold.
Ritvika stirred awake. For a moment, she blinked at the sight before her—Vidyut curled up awkwardly on the small sofa, his tall frame cramped, his arm hanging off the side.
His blanket barely covered him, and his broad shoulders looked too big, too misplaced there.
Something tugged at her chest. Quietly, she got out of bed and padded across the room. Bending slightly, she reached out and patted his shoulder gently.
Vidyut's eyes snapped open instantly, alert as always. He blinked up at her, confused, until her soft voice broke the silence. "You can sleep on the bed."
For a moment he just looked at her, as though unsure if he had heard right. Then, without a word, he rose—clutching his blanket in both hands like a child woken by his mother and told to move. His steps were slow, hesitant, almost careful, as if afraid she might change her mind.
He reached the bed and lay down, pulling Tara into his arms, hugging her protectively against his chest. A small, involuntary smile curved his lips as the little girl snuggled into him even in sleep.
Ritvika's gaze lingered. For just a heartbeat, the corner of her mouth softened into the hint of a smile. But it vanished just as quickly as it had come, replaced by the wall she had carefully built around herself. She turned away, steadying her heart, and moved towards the washroom to freshen up.
Ritvika came out of the washroom, towel drying her hair, when her phone buzzed on the table. She picked it up absentmindedly, swiping the screen.
One unread mail.
Her eyes landed on the sender—Starlight Corporation. Her heart skipped. For a moment, her breath caught in her throat. Fingers trembling slightly, she opened the mail.
The subject line itself made her freeze.
"Congratulations, Ms. Ritvika Kapoor. You're hired."
Her lips parted. She blinked rapidly, as though she hadn't read it right. Scrolling down, her eyes widened further—
"We sincerely apologize for the inconvenience caused yesterday. After re-evaluating your profile, we are pleased to offer you a confirmed position at Starlight. We truly value your potential and dedication, and we are eager to welcome you on board."
She read it once. Then again. And again.
Her chest tightened with disbelief before joy burst out of her all at once.
A radiant smile bloomed on her face, bright enough to light the whole room.
"Yes!" she whispered, and before she knew it, she was twirling in place, almost hopping on her toes like a child.
Her hands flew to her mouth, trying to contain the laughter bubbling out of her.
A soft chuckle drifted from behind her. She turned sharply—
There was Vidyut, still on the bed, his blanket half slipping off, hair tousled, eyes barely open. He must have woken up to her giggles. But instead of his usual piercing stare, his gaze was warm, soft—like sunlight breaking through clouds.
his lips curved into a quiet, genuine smile. Not the smirk of arrogance, not the grin of dominance, but something gentler. A smile that came just from watching her glow with happiness.
Ritvika's cheeks flushed faintly as she looked away, still unable to hide her excitement. She hugged her phone to her chest, biting back another giggle, her heart lighter than it had been in a long time.
And Vidyut, lying there with Tara curled in his arms, thought to himself—
This... this is what home feels like.
Ritvika, still hugging her phone to her chest, suddenly realized Vidyut's eyes hadn't left her. Heat crept to her cheeks, and to cover up, she blurted, "W-what will you take in breakfast?"
Vidyut arched an eyebrow, his lips twitching into the faintest smirk. "Why are you looking so happy?" he asked, voice calm, almost teasing—as if he didn't already know the reason.
Ritvika froze for a heartbeat. Her mind ran back to the mail, her glowing smile, her little jump of joy. She bit her lip and thought for a second before replying, "Because..." She trailed off, then quickly looked down at the floor. "Nothing. Aap batayiye, what for breakfast?"
Vidyut sighed softly, leaning back. "What do you want to make?" he asked casually, as though it didn't matter. Then, with a small glance towards the bundle in his arms, he added, "Or maybe... what my Tara says."
Ritvika rolled her eyes lightly. "Tara will say paratha only. And I can't give her paratha every day. So you tell," she replied, folding her arms.
For a moment, Vidyut just looked at her. His gaze was steady, almost unreadable. Then he muttered under his breath, "Kuch bhi bana lo."
But just then, something clicked in Ritvika's mind. Her eyes narrowed. "Wait a second," she said, tilting her head. "Didn't you say yesterday that you'll do half the household chores?"
Vidyut stilled, his face betraying the tiniest flicker of alarm.
Ritvika's lips curved into a faint, dangerous smile. "Toh theek hai, aaj aap breakfast banaiye."
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