Chapter 3 #3
"They're getting bolder," Ranveer observed during one particularly tense meeting. "Testing us. Waiting to see if we'll respond with strength or weakness."
"We respond with overwhelming force," Raghav replied coldly. "I want every Kapoor operation in Mumbai identified. I want their suppliers cut off. I want their people too afraid to breathe our air."
"Aggressive," Ranveer noted. "Are you sure you have the stomach for this kind of war? It's not like your international negotiations. This is blood and bodies."
"I've shed plenty of blood building this empire," Raghav said dangerously. "Don't mistake distance for softness."
But doubt had been planted. And several people in that room wondered if the young heir who'd spent three years abroad still had the ruthlessness required to lead their world.
*
While Raghav planned his war, Akriti moved through the house like a ghost. She didn't attend meals. She didn't make tea for Vikram. She didn't perform any of the small domestic duties that had defined her role.
When Meera commented on her absence from breakfast, Akriti's response was delivered with perfect calm.
"Perhaps Ms. Mehta could help with those duties," she suggested. "She seems quite eager to integrate into the household. You should ask Raghav to hand them over to her officially."
The words spread through the family like wildfire.
Savitri found Akriti in the library, staring out the window.
"Beta, what's happening to you?"
"Nothing, Maa," Akriti replied softly. "I've just stopped pretending."
"The car—"
"Was just a car."
"Raghav is furious—"
"Is he?" Akriti turned, her expression curious. "That's the most emotion he's shown toward anything related to me in three years. I should be grateful."
Savitra’s eyes softened with sadness and pain. "This isn't you, beta. This bitterness—"
"Maybe, Maa," Akriti interrupted gently. "But what I’m done burning myself for people who don't find me worthy of basic respect."
Savitri studied her daughter-in-law with growing concern. "What are you going to do?"
"Keep living," Akriti said simply. "Keep working at the shelter. Keep existing. But I'm done performing for a family that doesn't value me and a husband who wishes I didn't exist."
She walked past Savitri, her footsteps echoing in the vast library.
Outside, in the corridor, Raghav stood frozen. He'd heard everything.
Ms. Mehta is here for that. Ask Raghav to hand over those duties to her officially.
The words hit him like a physical blow.
She wasn't begging for his attention anymore. Wasn't trying to be the perfect wife.
She'd given up.
And something about that realization unsettled him more than the warehouse attack, more than Ranveer's political maneuvering, more than anything else happening in his fracturing empire.
*
That afternoon, Akriti left for the shelter as usual. Mohan drove her, same as always, making small talk about his grandchildren.
She didn't notice the black sedan following them.
Didn't notice it when they parked.
Didn't notice it watching as she entered Asha Bhavan and began her afternoon English class.
Inside the car, Ranveer's hired man took photographs. The shelter. The women. Akriti laughing with them, teaching them, clearly invested.
Leverage, he thought. Everyone had a weakness.
Even a forgotten wife.
*
That evening, Ranveer met with his closest allies in a private location far from the Singhania mansion.
"The boy's distracted," he told them. "Torn between his foreign empire and domestic threats. His marriage is a joke. His business associate is clearly more than professional. The family is fractured."
"What are you proposing?" one of the men asked.
Ranveer smiled, cold and calculating. "Raghav needs to be eliminated before he becomes a bigger problem. Before he consolidates power. Before Vikram officially names him successor."
"That's dangerous. Vikram—"
"Will be devastated by his son's tragic accident," Ranveer interrupted smoothly. "Will need support. Guidance. Leadership."
"An accident?"
"A very unfortunate one." Ranveer pulled out the photographs of Akriti at the shelter.
"Involving his neglected wife. There is an event next Friday.
Raghav and his will be expected to attend together.
And they will. Vikram bhaisahab will ensure that.
After all, the Singhania family has an image to maintain. "
Understanding dawned on the faces around him.
"The Kapoors are already attacking," Ranveer continued. "Who would question another strike? Another casualty of the escalating war?"
"And if Raghav survives?"
"He won't." Ranveer's eyes were hard. "But if by some miracle he does, his guilt over his wife's death will destroy him just as effectively. Either way, he's removed from the equation."
Plans were made. Money exchanged hands. A timeline established.
Seven days.
In Seven days, Ranveer Singhania would make his move.
And the forgotten wife would become the perfect weapon to destroy the man who'd forgotten her.
*
Late that night, Akriti sat at her desk, writing in her journal by lamplight.
Day 1,098. Three years and three days.
I burned his car today. I should feel guilty. I don't.
I should feel something. Anything. But there's just... emptiness.
Savitri Maa is worried about me. She doesn't understand. For three years, I've been a ghost. Now I'm just accepting it. Embracing it.
There's freedom in giving up. In stopping the performance. In admitting that some things are simply impossible.
Love. Partnership. Being seen.
All impossible.
So I'll focus on what's possible. The shelter. The women. Making a difference in small, real ways.
Raghav can have his empire. His wars. His sophisticated business associate.
And I'll have my peace.
Finally.
She closed the journal and extinguished the lamp.
Outside her window, the garden lay dark and still. Somewhere in the mansion, Raghav was planning his retaliation against the Kapoors, surrounded by maps and weapons and strategy.
They lived in the same house.
Breathing the same air.
Existing in completely separate worlds.
And in three days, one of those worlds would shatter completely.
The accident was coming.
Neither of them saw it.
Neither of them was prepared.
And everything—everything—was about to change.