CHAPTER 56! LET IT BURN
Vote.
Comments and follow.
The reinforced doors of Singhania headquarters hissed open.
Black obsidian stretched across the massive entrance hall, broken only by the cold white overhead lights.
Armed guards stood posted at every checkpoint, watching the shadows, silent.
Aadhira walked straight through them.
The first guard caught sight of her bruised face and instantly stepped back into the shadows.
The second lowered his assault rifle before her shadow crossed his path. By the time she reached the final security checkpoint, the heavy biometric doors were already retracting into the walls.
No one asked for identification. No one reached for a metal detector. No one dared to touch her, even as they registered the dark rust of dried blood smeared across her clothes.
They knew exactly who she was. And they knew better than to stand in her way.
Her knuckles were split and swollen, her skin coated in street grime and sweat. Her dark hair cascaded over her shoulders, sticking to the tear tracks drying on her cheeks.
Every step felt heavy, as though her legs were dragging through wet cement. For the entire twenty-minute drive, her mind had locked onto a single, three-word phrase:
Did you do this?
Now, separated from him by only a few yards of glass and heavy mahogany, the weight of his potential answer stole what little air remained in her lungs.
Nearly forty men sat around the long boardroom table-syndicate bosses who controlled ports, private mercenary firms, and international trafficking corridors across two continents.
At the far end sat Aryav.
He hadn't taken off his suit jacket. His eyes were fixed on a leather-bound ledger, the gold ring on his right hand tapping a rhythmic beat against the wood.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
"You're late," Aryav said without looking up, assuming it was his lieutenant returning with a manifest.
Then the air in the room shifted.
The heavy scent of cigar smoke and expensive cologne was cut by something raw. Vanilla. Rain. And the sharp iron tang of wet blood.
Aryav froze.
The gold ring stopped mid-stroke. Slowly, he lifted his head.
She looked nothing like the woman who had left his estate that morning.
His gaze moved over her, taking in every detail: the ruined strands of her hair, the pale strain of her face, the dirt beneath her fingernails.
And lower-to the reddish-brown stain saturating her left sleeve, stiffening the fabric of her cream sweater.
Aryav spent every waking hour surrounded by men who would cut their own throats to avoid his wrath.
But not one of them had ever looked at him the way his wife was looking at him now-as though trying to decide whether he was the man who held her heart or the monster who had just shattered her life.
Shaurya was already halfway out of his chair three seats down.
Before he could clear the space between them-
Aryav rose.
He didn't rush. He stepped around the table with heavy, deliberate strides, his gaze locked onto her face, ignoring the men who had instantly gone motionless around them.
"Aadhira-"
Crack.
The slap echoed through the vast room like a gunshot.
Silence rushed into the space, thick and suffocating.
Aryav didn't raise a hand. He didn't step back. He simply stood there in the quiet.
Aadhira's hand slowly lowered, hovering suspended, trembling violently.
Nobody looked at anyone.
Across the long table, a silver pen slipped from an underboss's motionless fingers, rolling two inches across the polished dark wood before coming to a complete stop.
The low, hum of the central air-conditioning suddenly filled the room, steady and cold.
Against Aryav's pale jawline, the red outline of her fingers was already darkening into a deep flush.
He didn't touch his cheek. He didn't glance toward his men. His dark eyes simply held hers, absorbing the force of her rage without a single flinch.
Beside the table, Shaurya's raised fist slowly unclenched. For the first time in twenty years, he recognized something completely unfamiliar in Aryav's stance: Aryav had no intention of protecting himself from her.
A heavy, aching pause stretched between them.
Aryav squared his shoulders, closing the final inch until he stood directly over her. He registered the shallow rise and fall of her chest, the tremor in her knees, the dried blood on her sweater.
Her anger cracked, dissolving into raw agony.
"How could you?" Her voice was barely a whisper. "I came here to hate you. But I don't even know what I'm looking at anymore."
Aryav didn't offer a defense. He took one step closer, his presence grounding her.
"What happened?" he asked quietly.
Aadhira swallowed hard, her chest heaving.
"Kashvi..."
Her voice collapsed. The name hung in the air of the boardroom.
Silence fell again.
Vivaan didn't react. Not immediately.
His fingers remained lightly wrapped around his wooden pencil. He didn't look up.
Aryav's gaze shifted to him. Aadhira's eyes followed, landing on Vivaan's still figure at the middle of the table.
Vivaan slowly lifted his head, locking eyes with Aadhira.
"A heavy truck... it hit her," Aadhira managed to choke out, her voice broken. "She's in the ICU. They don't know if she's going to make it through the night."
Snap.
The wooden pencil split cleanly in two inside Vivaan's grip.
"Kashvi?" Vivaan's voice was thin, completely stripped of its usual quiet authority.
Aadhira kept her eyes on him. "They're... trying to stop the internal bleeding."
Vivaan looked down at his hands. They were shaking. He stared at the broken pieces of wood as if they belonged to a stranger.
Slowly, he turned. His thigh caught the edge of his heavy chair, sending it crashing against the obsidian floor with a deafening rattle.
He didn't apologize. He didn't ask permission. He turned and ran out of the boardroom.
Aadhira stood motionless, her eyes fixed on the heavy double doors as his footsteps echoed down the corridor, growing fainter and fainter until they vanished into absolute silence.
She had just delivered that news to the man who loved Kashvi.
The room seemed to tilt beneath her feet. Her knees gave out.
Aryav caught her before she hit the ground.
His broad arm swept around her waist. He dropped to one knee, pulling her flush against his chest, wrapping his body around hers to catch her entire weight.
Her bruised knuckles tangled into the heavy wool of his coat, clinging to him.
His hand settled firmly at the back of her head, pressing her face straight into his neck.
"Look at me," he commanded softly. "Forget the room. Forget the blood. You're safe. Just breathe with me, Aadhira. In. Out."
Aryav became completely still.
He didn't speak again. He simply sat on the cold floor, letting the silence envelope them.
Gradually, the erratic rhythm of Aadhira's chest began to shift, matching the slow, deep cadence of his breathing.
Her fingers tightened around the lapels of his coat, her knuckles turning white.
Aryav felt her whole body trembling against him.
His broad hand moved once, pressing gently against her back, keeping her anchored.
She tried to speak, her throat tightening, but no sound came out. He didn't push her to try again.
He held her while she wept, letting her grief soak directly into his shirt.
Minutes passed in absolute stillness. The men around the table remained frozen, staring straight ahead.
Without looking away from her, Aryav reached out, grabbed a glass of water from the table, and brought the cool rim to her lips.
"Drink," he murmured. "Just a sip ."
Aadhira swallowed the water, then slumped forward again, resting her forehead against his throat.
Aryav's hand shifted down to her left wrist, his thumb gently pressing against her pulse point.
"This isn't yours?"
"Kashvi's," she whispered against his skin. "I tried to hold her... before the paramedics came."
He didn't push. He simply held her, letting her draw breath, letting her lean on him for as long as she needed.
Shaurya watched from the side of the room. He caught Aryav's eye across the space.
With a subtle nod, Shaurya turned and quietly slipped out the double doors to follow Vivaan into the night.
Aadhira pulled back slightly, her hands still tangled in his lapels. She looked straight into his eyes.
"Did you do this, Aryav?"
Aryav didn't flinch.
He didn't answer right away. He let the silence sit heavy between them.
Aadhira searched his face, her chest tight with terror, desperate for a truth she was terrified to hear.
Aryav looked back at her, understanding every unspoken fear passing through her mind.
"No."
Aadhira's breath hitched.
Just one word.
Relief hit her first, heavy and overwhelming, followed by a sharp ache of shame.
She realized, with absolute certainty, that she believed him.
She could breathe again.
"I can forgive you for hating me," his voice dropped, deep and unwavering.
His hand moved up to cup the back of her neck, holding her so she couldn't look away. "I won't forgive myself if you ever have reason to fear me like this. I would never hurt someone who has nothing to do with us."
They sat in the quiet for a long moment. Aadhira's hand remained tightly gripped on his coat, refusing to let go.
Aryav glanced down at her fingers, then back at her eyes, neither of them acknowledging the physical hold she maintained.
Aadhira swallowed hard, the memory returning.
"Aryav..."
He looked down at her. "What is it?"
"Reyansh said the truck wasn't supposed to be on that road," Aadhira choked out. "The entire intersection was blocked off and..."
Aryav went still.
"Which road?"
"The eastern bypass near the market."
"That road has been closed to commercial heavy transport for months."
Aadhira looked at him. "How do you know?"
"Because I own the security contract for that district," Aryav said quietly. "What time did it hit her?"
"Just after seven."
"At seven o'clock, I was sitting at this table with forty men."
Aadhira shivered. "Aryav... there was a man."