Chapter Seven
The argument started over breakfast, as most things with Nisha did.
Advika had come down to find Nisha holding court in the dining room, Mihika at her side like always. The two women had their heads bent together, whispering and giggling in that particular way designed to make whoever walked in feel excluded.
"Morning," Advika said, pouring herself coffee and determinedly not reacting to their presence.
"Advika!" Nisha's voice was overly bright. "We were just talking about you."
"How thrilling for you both."
"Mihika was asking about your bakery," Nisha continued, her smile sharp. "Sinfully Sweet, was it? Such a... quaint name."
"It's a reference to the seven deadly sins," Advika said, sitting down with her coffee. "Each one represented by a different dessert. Pride was a chocolate torte, Envy was a matcha cheesecake, Lust was—"
"How clever," Mihika interrupted, her tone suggesting it was anything but. "Playing with religious concepts to sell cupcakes."
"They were cakes, actually. And I wasn't playing. I was running a successful business."
"Past tense," Nisha noted. "How sad that you had to give it all up."
Advika's grip tightened on her mug. "I didn't give it up. It was taken from me."
"Same difference." Nisha waved a dismissive hand. "Either way, you're here now. Playing housewife. Or is it housekeeper? I can never tell."
Four months ago, Advika might have let that slide. Four months ago, she was still trying to find her footing, still hoping for some kind of peace.
But four months of Nisha's constant digs, four months of being treated like an intruder in her own home, and she was done being diplomatic.
"You know what your problem is, Nisha?" Advika set down her mug carefully. "You're threatened by me. You've been the only woman in this house for years, the princess of the Singhania estate, and now there's someone else. Someone your brother married, someone who has a claim you can never touch."
Nisha's face flushed red. "Don't be ridiculous—"
"And you," Advika turned to Mihika, "are even sadder.
Hanging around a man who's never looked at you twice, hoping against hope that one day he'll notice you're alive.
Spoiler alert: he won't. He's married. To me.
And no amount of accidental meetings in provocative clothing or touching his arm at dinner is going to change that. "
Mihika's mouth dropped open. "How dare you—"
"How dare I what? Point out reality? You're not subtle, Mihika. Everyone sees what you're doing. The staff whispers about it. Rishabh makes jokes about it. The only person who doesn't acknowledge it is Sidharth, and that's because he genuinely doesn't care enough about you to notice."
"You're a bitch," Mihika hissed, standing up.
"And you're pathetic." Advika stood as well, done with this conversation.
"But here's some free advice—stop trying to meddle in my marriage.
Stop playing these little games with Nisha, thinking you can somehow push me out.
Because I've been nothing but civil to you, and that ends today.
Next time you try to interfere in my life, I won't be using words. Understand?"
The threat hung in the air, unmistakable.
Mihika's eyes widened. She looked to Nisha for support, but even Nisha seemed taken aback by Advika's sudden venom.
"This is my house," Nisha finally said, though her voice lacked its usual confidence. "You can't threaten my guests—"
"Then stop inviting guests who make it their mission to disrespect me." Advika grabbed her coffee. "I'm going to the library. Try not to plot my demise while I'm gone."
She walked out, her heart pounding with adrenaline and satisfaction. Behind her, she heard Mihika's voice, high and indignant: "Are you going to let her talk to me like that?"
Advika smiled. Small victories.
She found out later that afternoon that Nisha had gone straight to Sidharth.
Advika was in the kitchen, working on a batch of croissants that required her full concentration, when Lakshmi appeared in the doorway, her expression troubled.
"Mrs. Singhania? Mr. Singhania would like to see you in his office."
The tone suggested it wasn't a request.
Advika wiped her flour-covered hands on her apron, anxiety knotting in her stomach. She'd known there would be consequences for this morning. She just hoped Sidharth would at least hear her side before taking his sister's.
She knocked on his office door, entering at his curt "Come in."
Sidharth sat behind his desk, his expression unreadable. Nisha stood by the window, her arms crossed, looking righteously angry.
"Close the door," Sidharth said.
Advika did, steeling herself for whatever came next.
"Nisha says you threatened Mihika," Sidharth began, his tone neutral.
"I told her to stop interfering in my marriage," Advika corrected. "There's a difference."
"You said you wouldn't use words next time," Nisha jumped in. "That's a threat."
"It's a boundary." Advika looked at Sidharth, willing him to understand. "She's been coming here for months, touching you inappropriately, making comments designed to undermine me, and I'm supposed to just smile and take it?"
"She's Nisha's friend—"
"She's a woman who wants my husband and isn't subtle about it!" The words burst out of her, raw and honest. "And your sister encourages it. Sets up these little scenarios where Mihika is draped all over you while I'm supposed to sit there and pretend I don't notice."
"That's not—" Nisha started.
"Yes, it is." Advika's gaze didn't leave Sidharth's face. "You know it is. You've seen it. And you do nothing."
Something flickered in his amber eyes—guilt, maybe, or acknowledgment. But his expression remained neutral.
"Mihika is family," Nisha said firmly. "She's been part of this house long before you arrived—"
"But I'm actually family," Advika interrupted. "I'm his wife. Whether you like it or not, whether I wanted it or not, I'm family now. And I'm tired of being treated like I'm less than everyone else in this house."
"You married into this family for political reasons," Nisha shot back. "Don't pretend you have some moral high ground. We all know you're just here because your father needed to secure peace—"
"Enough." Sidharth's voice cut through the argument like a blade. "Both of you."
He stood, moving to the window, his back to them both. Advika watched the tension in his shoulders, the way his hands clenched and unclenched.
"Nisha, Mihika needs to respect boundaries," he said finally. "I'll speak with her."
Nisha's face lit up with vindication. "See? Even he agrees—"
"And you," Sidharth turned to his sister, "need to stop setting up situations designed to make Advika uncomfortable. I've noticed. I'm not blind."
Nisha's expression shifted from triumphant to shocked. "Bhai—"
"I said enough." His tone left no room for argument. "Advika is my wife. Start treating her like it."
It was the most he'd ever defended her. The most he'd ever publicly acknowledged their relationship meant something.
Advika felt something warm bloom in her chest, even as Nisha's face flushed with anger and humiliation.
"This is ridiculous," Nisha said. "She's got you wrapped around her finger—"
"Out." Sidharth's voice was deadly quiet. "We'll discuss this later. Privately."
Nisha stormed out, slamming the door behind her.
The silence that followed was thick with tension. Advika and Sidharth stood on opposite sides of the room, the distance between them feeling like miles.
"Thank you," Advika said quietly. "For—"
"Don't." He held up a hand. "Don't thank me for doing the bare minimum."
"It's more than you've done before."
He flinched at that, the blow landing. "I know."
They stared at each other, and for a moment, Advika thought maybe they were finally making progress. Maybe they could actually talk, actually build something real—
His phone rang, shattering the moment. He answered it, his expression shifting from conflicted to cold and hard in seconds.
"When?" A pause. "How bad?" Another pause. "I'm on my way."
He hung up, already moving toward the door, grabbing his jacket.
"What's wrong?" Advika asked.
"Business." The word was clipped. "Don't wait up."
And he was gone, leaving her alone in his office with more questions than answers.
The attack on the warehouse was the talk of the estate by morning.
Advika pieced together what happened from whispered conversations between staff members and Rishabh's grim expression at breakfast. A Singhania warehouse on the south side of the city had been hit—inventory destroyed, two guards injured, and worst of all, it had been surgical.
Precise. Like whoever did it knew exactly when and where to strike.
An inside job.
The paranoia that descended over the estate was immediate and suffocating. Security was doubled. Meetings that had been held in the house were moved to undisclosed locations. And everyone looked at everyone else with suspicion.
Especially Advika.
She felt it in the way conversations stopped when she entered a room. The way Sidharth's men watched her with careful, assessing eyes. The way even Lakshmi, who'd been kind to her, seemed more distant.
But it was Nisha who said what everyone was thinking.
It was two days after the attack. Advika had been in the library, trying to lose herself in a book, when she heard voices from the hallway. Sidharth's office door was ajar.
"I'm just saying, the timing is suspicious." Nisha's voice carried clearly. "We've had no security breaches in five years, and suddenly, four months after she arrives, we're hit?"
"Correlation isn't causation," Rishabh replied, ever the voice of reason.
"But it's a hell of a coincidence." Nisha's voice grew sharper. "She's a Pradhan, Bhai. Where do her loyalties really lie? Have you even considered that she might be feeding information to her father?"
Advika's blood ran cold. She stood frozen in the library, her book forgotten.
"I've considered it." Sidharth's voice was flat, emotionless.