CHAPTER 45! SINISTER
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The glass facade of the Rai Singhania Group tower loomed over the commercial district like a monolith of dark, polished obsidian.
It didn't look like a place where people worked; it looked like a fortress designed to keep the rest of the world small.
Every pair of polished shoes crossing the marble floor reminded Aadhira she didn't belong here.
She stood on the perimeter of the lobby, her hands buried deep in the pockets of her oversized hoodie.
The fabric swallowed her, a deliberate shield against the sterile, air-conditioned chill of the corporate headquarters.
Her fingers pressed against the black plastic bag containing the pregnancy test, the plastic crinkling softly against her palm.
She shouldn't have come.
The thought had beaten a relentless rhythm against her ribs the entire taxi ride over.
But the envelope of cash in her desk drawer had proven one thing-Aryav was a man who handled problems with clinical precision.
And right now, she was a problem that couldn't be tucked into a drawer.
She took a breath and stepped toward the security barrier.
"Identification, miss," a guard said, stepping into her path. His posture was rigid, his eyes mapping the faded fabric of her sweatshirt with immediate, professional dismissiveness.
"I need to see Aryav rai shinghania," she said. Her voice lacked its usual weight, sounding thin against the high marble ceilings.
"Mr. Rai Singhania doesn't see anyone without an appointment." The guard didn't even look at the visitor's log.
"Do you have an appointment."
"No."
"Than You'll have to leave."
"Please." She didn't move.
"It's important. Just tell him-"
"Miss, I'm going to have to ask you to step outside." He reached out, his hand hovering near her elbow to guide her toward the revolving doors.
The distance between his hand and her skin closed by an inch.
Aadhira flinched away, her back hitting the edge of the security desk with a sharp thud.
A cold sweat broke across the back of her neck. "Don't touch me."
The guard paused, his expression hardening. "Step out, right now, or I'll have handling security remove you."
Desperation breached the fog in her mind. "I'm Shourya's sister."
The name acted like a physical brake. The guard stopped, his hand dropping to his side.
He exchanged a brief, tight glance with the receptionist behind the desk.
Shourya wasn't an executive, but in the hierarchy of the Rai Singhania organization, the lawyer who reported directly to Aryav rai shinghania, his bestfriend.
The guard looked her up and down again, noting the pale skin, the dark shadows beneath her eyes, and the tremor vibrating through her frame.
"Wait here, mam." he said.
On the top floor, the boardroom was locked in silence.
Aryav sat at the head of the long mahogany table, his tailored charcoal suit immaculate, his expression completely unreadable as the head of his logistics division went over the latest transport discrepancies.
Ten executives sat around him, their eyes fixed on their tablets, barely daring to breathe.
The rule at Rai Singhania Group was absolute: when Aryav was in a quarterly review, the world outside ceased to exist. Interruption was an offense that cost careers.
A soft buzz vibrated through the internal phone on the wall.
The logistics head froze mid-sentence.
Aryav didn't move.
His gaze remained fixed on the financial spreadsheet projected against the wall. "Ignore it."
The phone buzzed a second time.
Then a third.
With a slow, deliberate movement, Aryav turned his head.
The absolute coldness in his dark eyes made the executive nearest to the phone instantly reach out and answer it, his hand visibly shaking.
"I explicitly stated no calls-" the executive began, but the voice on the other end cut him off, frantic and low.
The executive listened for two seconds, his eyes widening as he looked up at the head of the table.
He lowered the receiver, his throat dry. "Sir... the lobby security is on the line. They say Shourya's sister is downstairs. She's refusing to leave."
The room recalibrated around him.
Aryav's fingers, which had been tapping a slow rhythm against his gold fountain pen, went completely still.
The pen remained suspended an inch above the dark wood.
For three seconds, he simply sat there, the shadows of the high floor cutting across the sharp angles of his jaw.
The laptop closed with a soft click.
Ten executives stood at once.
Nobody had been dismissed; nobody waited to be.
They gathered their folders and tablets in a scramble of muffled apologies, exiting the boardroom within thirty seconds, leaving the double doors wide open as they fled toward the elevators.
Aryav stood up, walking over to the floor-to-ceiling glass that looked out over the sprawling city.
He adjusted his cuffs, his gaze tracing the heavy gray horizon.
"Bring her up," he commanded into the intercom.
When the heavy doors of the private office opened, the hoodie swallowed her frame, leaving only frightened eyes in a face he barely recognized.
"Leave us," Aryav told the guard.
The guard stepped backward, his hand reaching for the heavy brass handle to close the door behind him.
The click of the latch beginning to engage echoed like a gunshot in Aadhira's mind. The walls of the office suddenly felt like they were collapsing inward.
"Leave the door open," she gasped, her voice cracking as she took a frantic step away from the desk. "Please."
The guard froze, his hand still on the handle, his eyes surveying the room.
Aryav looked at her. He saw the tremor in her chin, the way her eyes tracked the width of the open doorway like a cornered animal calculating an escape route.
She hadn't stepped farther than a pace past the threshold, refusing to fully enter his space.
He gave a single, tight nod to the guard.
The guard stepped back, leaving the heavy oak door open to the wide, empty corridor.
Silence settled over the room.
Aryav didn't walk toward her.
He never crossed the desk.
Neither invitation nor apology-only distance.
Faintly, the scent of cedar wood drifted from the side paneling.
"Speak," Aryav said. His voice was level, entirely stripped of emotion.
Aadhira took her hands out of her pockets.
Her knuckles were white.
She didn't offer an explanation.
She didn't recount the weeks of nausea or the calendar dates.
Instead, she pulled the black plastic bag from her pocket, reached inside, and placed the white plastic test stick onto the edge of his mahogany desk.
Neither of them touched it.
It sat between them on the polished dark wood like evidence.
Like a sentence.
Aryav's eyes stopped on the second pink line for half a heartbeat.
His thumb paused on his signet ring. Once.
Then resumed its slow rotation.
"How far along?" he asked.
"Six weeks," she whispered.
"Who knows?"
"No one."
"Keep it that way." His dark eyes narrowed, turning as cold as flint.
"It won't continue."
Aadhira felt the words strike her chest like a physical blow.
She instinctively stepped back, her shoulders squaring against the sudden chill of the room.
"No," she said, her voice gaining a fragile, stubborn strength.
"You don't get to decide that."
"Whatever I've done... I won't kill my baby."
Aryav didn't respond with anger. He kept his eyes locked on hers.
"What are you asking for?" he asked.
Aadhira took a slow, agonizing gulp of air, forcing her eyes to meet his-forcing herself to look at the man who held her brother's life and her own future in his hands.
She looked down at the polished floor, her hands trembling so violently she had to clench them into fists.
She couldn't find the words.
Then she forced them out.
"Our child deserves a name," she said, her voice barely audible but carrying an unyielding weight.
She hated herself for asking.
"Marry me."
Aryav didn't hesitate.
The answer arrived before the request could even fade from the room-not loud, not angry, but absolute.
"No," he said.
The single word cut through the remaining air in the room.
She stared at him, her chest heaving as the brutal reality of his answer settled over her.
He didn't look away, offering no apology, no soft edges to blunt the blow. Instead, he reached down and picked up his desk phone.
"Asher," Aryav said into the receiver.
A pause.
"Tomorrow."
Another pause as the voice on the other end responded.
"Arrange it."
He disconnected the line, setting the phone back into its cradle with a quiet click.
He finally raised his eyes to meet hers.
"You'll go."
"I said no," Aadhira whispered, her entire body shaking as she backed closer toward the open door.
Aryav's gaze remained fixed on her, cold and immutable.
"Your agreement isn't required," he said. "Compliance is."
"And if I refuse?"
"You weren't asked."
Aadhira didn't scream.
She didn't beg.
A strange, quiet stillness settled over her features, smoothing out the panic until her face was entirely blank.
Slowly, the corner of her mouth pulled upward into a faint, hollow semblance of a smile.
It wasn't born of amusement; it was the chilling tranquility of someone who had just looked over a ledge and realized they no longer feared the fall.
"Then there's nothing left for me." she
whispered.
She turned back toward the open corridor, her shoulders dropping as if a massive weight had suddenly been lifted from them.
"I'll kill myself."
There were no tears, no dramatic trembles in her voice-just a simple statement of fact.
Aryav's thumb stopped against the edge of his watch.
His grip tightened imperceptibly around the leather trim of his desk.
The grandfather clock ticked.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Only then did he speak.
"You won't."
She paused at the threshold, looking back over her shoulder.
"Try me."
Her voice dropping so low it barely carried across the room.
"I've already died once.
The rest is just breathing."
Silence swallowed the office.