CHAPTER 45! SINISTER #2
Aryav studied her-the dark shadows beneath her eyes, the rigid set of her spine, the way her body flared into a quiet panic at every muffled sound from the corridor.
She was a string wound too tight, waiting for the final snap.
He crossed to the window.
Five seconds passed. Then-
"Have you eaten today?" Aryav asked.
Aadhira blinked, thrown by the sudden pivot. "What?"
"Answer me."
"No." she whispered.
"You'll faint before you reach the street," Aryav said.
"I'll have something brought in."
"No." She whispered.
"Fine. You'll carry the child. You've seen a doctor?"
The sudden shift in the conversation made her flinch. "No."
"Only the test?"
"Yes."
Aryav let out a slow, controlled breath."Very well."
Aadhira stopped, her hand hovering near the frame of the open door.
Aryav adjusted his cuffs.
"You'll move into my penthouse," he commanded.
Aadhira looked at the cold, expansive office. "That's not a home."
"No," Aryav said. "It's protection."
He adjusted his watch face.
"Your family will be told you've moved into university housing."
Another pause.
"Your classes continue."
He looked at her.
"Everything else already has."
She turned around fully, her brow knitting together as she stared at him through the dim light.
"And the baby?"
"You'll deliver the child," Aryav said, his gaze locked onto hers.
"My child isn't born nameless."
The words seemed to violently strip the oxygen from the room. Aadhira gasped, her fingers instinctively curling through the thick fabric of her hoodie, clawing at her stomach.
"And me?" she asked.
Aryav didn't answer.
She let out a broken sound, shaking her head as a tear finally spilled over her lashes.
"I'm asking what happens to me."
His eyes met hers.
"You leave."
"No," she whispered, her voice cracking against the high ceiling.
"No. It's my baby too."
Aryav stepped around the perimeter of the desk, stopping the exact moment he reached the invisible boundary she had drawn around herself.
He didn't invade her space, but his presence loomed heavy.
"Nature made you the mother," he said quietly.
He paused.
"The rest belongs to me."
Aadhira took an involuntary step back, her spine hitting the doorframe.
"I will not give you my baby."
"Ok. Go home," Aryav murmured, each word landing like a heavy stone.
"Tell Shourya. Tell your mother. Tell the university. Tell the world."
He leaned in just a fraction.
"Then watch what survives."
Her lips parted, but no sound came out. The reality choked her.
Aryav turned his back to her once more.
He looked out over the sprawling skyline.
"So choose, Aadhira. Raise the child alone, expose everything, and destroy your family in the process. Or let me give this child a future." His voice echoed off the glass. "You'll bring the child into the world."
A heavy pause filled the space between them.
"The child leaves with me."
"Fine," she whispered.
Aryav didn't turn around.
He un-capped his pen and opened his laptop once more.
"Asher is waiting downstairs. Go."
Outside, the heavy traffic of the city continued to move through the gray afternoon, entirely indifferent to the bargain struck in the dark.
Inside, the test remained hidden inside her hoodie.
Between them lay the first variable neither of them could force into submission.
Sixty minutes passed.
He capped the pen with a soft click and set it down.
"Asher."
The side door opened silently.
Asher stepped into the office, his tablet in hand.
"Sir?"
The penthouse did not feel like a home; it felt like a vault designed to preserve a priceless, stolen artifact.
Perched on the forty-second floor overlooking the choked arteries of the city, the apartment stretched out in an expanse of polished white marble and seamless minimalist edges.
The stone held no footprints. There were no family photographs on the walls, no stray keys left on the console, no signs of human clutter.
The refrigerator hummed in the kitchen, a low, mechanical drone that only amplified the emptiness.
Everything was cataloged, sterile, and registered under Aryav Rai Singhania's name.
Aadhira sat on the edge of the oversized Italian leather sofa, her hands subconsciously resting over the slight curve of her stomach beneath her oversized black hoodie.
It had become her uniform-the only fabric thick enough to ward off the chill embedded in the walls.
Just this morning, she had opened the walk-in closet to find an entire section newly filled.
Row after row of maternity dresses, spanning every stage of pregnancy, each tailored to her exact, changing dimensions.
She hadn't been measured. Then she remembered the weekly medical examinations.
Somewhere between the doctor, the tailor, and Aryav, her body had been reduced to data.
A soft click echoed from the foyer.
Instead of Aryav, Dr. Mehta walked into the living space, followed by a silent, uniformed nurse.
"Good afternoon, Ms. Aadhira," the doctor said, his tone perfectly professional, entirely devoid of human warmth.
He unzipped his leather medical bag. "It's time for your bi-weekly vitals and ultrasound. Have you been taking the prescribed prenatal supplements?"
"Yes," Aadhira whispered.
She lay back on the sofa, pulling up the hem of her hoodie just enough to expose her lower abdomen. The nurse moved with practiced efficiency, applying the cold, clear gel.
Aadhira flinched, her eyes instantly darting to the floor-to-ceiling windows.
Beyond the glass, traffic crawled across the concrete grid. Life continued without her.
The rapid, rhythmic thump-thump-thump of the fetal heartbeat filled the room.
A tear slipped into her hairline, dampening the leather beneath her head.