14. Blood
I stared at the wall like it had personally betrayed me.
“Dhwani is Samarth’s sister?”
My brain rejected it. Spat it out. Dragged it back in.
“How— how the hell is that even possible?”
My thoughts kept looping, glitching.
“Wait… wait— Dhwani is Samarth’s sister. Not girlfriend.”
I said it again, louder, like maybe repetition would rewrite reality.
“No— you’re kidding— Dhwani is Samarth’s sister… not girlfriend. Not— girlfriend….”
I spun toward Ishaan.
“Pinch me. Pinch me, you useless creature.”
He pinched me like he was avenging his whole lineage. I hissed. “NOT THAT HARD, YOU PSYCHO!”
But it worked. Pain = reality.
“Oh my God,” I muttered, dragging both hands through my hair before gripping Ishaan’s shoulders. “It’s not a dream. Dhwani is… actually… Samarth Rathore’s sister.”
And then it hit me like a truck.
I lunged forward and hugged Ishaan so suddenly he staggered two steps back.
“brO… DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHAT THIS MEANS?” I practically yelled in his ear, shaking him like a ragdoll. “THIS.. THIS IS INSANE!”
He wheezed. “Sir… sir… oxygen..”
“I DON’T CARE ABOUT YOUR OXYGEN, ISHAAN. WE JUST HIT A PLOT TWIST OF THE CENTURY!”
“Plot twist how?” Ishaan blinked at me.
I gave him a look. “Are you stupid? I kept my distance from her because I thought I was stepping into Samarth’s love life. And now that I know she’s his sister?”
A slow, wicked smile stretched across my face.“Oh, it’s going to be entertaining.”
Ishaan’s eyes widened. “Sir… you’re not planning to use her to find Samarth, right? Or…God forbid— torture her?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” I snapped. “She’s too damn innocent for that. I’m not touching a single hair on her head. But…”
I leaned closer, lowering my voice.
“I can definitely use her connection to him.”
“What does that even mean?” Ishaan asked, already regretting it.
I exhaled a laugh, sharp and humorless.
“That bastard has tested my patience enough. Now it’s my turn.”
I stepped back, imagining Samarth’s face when he returns.
“Dhwani matters to him. A lot. And now… somehow, she matters to me too.”
My jaw tightened. “And I’ve always enjoyed snatching what people treasure most.”
Ishaan swallowed. “Sir—”
“So I’ll keep Dhwani close,” I continued calmly, almost casually. “Close enough that when Samarth crawls back, the first thing he’ll see is his precious sister standing beside me.”
“And if he tries to pull her away…”
I looked Ishaan dead in the eyes.
“He won’t be able to. By then, she’ll be bound to me.”
“But isn’t it wrong?” Ishaan asked hesitantly. “You kissed some girl at that party a few nights ago… and now Dhwani—”
I dragged a hand down my face.
“Fuck my life, don’t remind me.”
I glared at him.
“That kiss was a mistake. A stupid, half-drunk, zero-brain-cell mistake. And it happened before I had any real connection with Dhwani.” My voice flattened, tone deadly serious.“I’m not repeating that mess again.”
I shrugged, unapologetic but firm.
“I said what I said… I’m a man of my word. If I decide to stand with someone, I don’t wander.” My jaw clenched slightly. “So yeah. I’ll be loyal. To her. Only her. End of discussion.”
Ishaan exhaled, long and defeated. He clearly didn’t understand what I was doing.
Hell, even I didn’t fully understand what I was doing.
“Dhwani belongs to Samarth,” Ishaan said quietly. “And Samarth killed your whole family. How can you even think about catching feelings for someone connected to the man who destroyed your entire life? Is it really that easy?”
I let out a bitter laugh.
“Easy?” I scoffed. “If it were easy, I wouldn’t bring her in this house two months ago!”
I paced two steps, jaw tight, heart heavier than I wanted to admit.
“Every damn day I wake up, that reminder carved into me.” I turned to him, eyes steady, not hiding the mess I was inside.
“But feelings don’t ask for permission, Ishaan. They just… show up.” I tapped my chest once. “And this? This wasn’t in my control.”
I inhaled sharply.
“I like her. That’s the truth. As inconvenient, as stupid, as dangerous as it is-” I held his stare. “that’s what I want.”
“But what will you say to your grandparent?” Ishaan pressed.
“You kidnapped Dhwani, kept her with you for more than two months… and now you’re falling for her? What do you think he’ll do when he finds out?”
I exhaled sharply, rubbing my face with both hands.“What do you want me to say, huh?” I snapped, voice low but cracked with frustration.
“I don’t have an answer. I know he’ll lose his mind. I know he won’t spare me. And I know I’ve already crossed every line he drew.”
I leaned back against the table, staring at the floor like it might give me direction.
“But I’m not discussing this right now,” I said, tone final, controlled but heavy.
“I’m not ready to face that part yet.”
Ishaan nodded slowly. “As you say, sir.”
“Leave it,” I said, waving the topic away before it drilled a hole in my skull. “Tell me something else. If Dhwani is Samarth’s sister, that means their uncle knew it the whole damn time. So why didn’t he say anything and stop me from dragging her into all this?”
Ishaan swallowed. “He hates her.”
My eyes narrowed. “Why?”
“Couldn’t find any exact reason,” he admitted.
I snapped, “Then find it now. Don’t come back to me with half information again.”
He nodded instantly, stiff like a malfunctioning robot.
“Good. Now, show me your design. I checked the first four.”
“Sure, sir!” He hurriedly grabbed his laptop. God knows how many random keys he murdered, but he was still typing the password.
After a painfully awkward pause. “Here it is...” he said.
The design glowed onto the screen. And for once, I couldn’t nitpick a damn thing.
It wasn’t just beautiful, it was dangerously flawless.
A deep obsidian-black space dominated the layout, textured like crushed velvet under a single spotlight.
Fine silver lines sliced across the backdrop in geometric strokes, converging into a sharp, minimalist emblem a phoenix with wings made of broken glass shards, each piece refracting light like fragmented truths.
The color palette was brutal and elegant:
charcoal, molten silver, and a single streak of blood-red that cut through the wings like a warning.
The whole design felt alive violent, reborn, and untouchable.
I exhaled.
If I called it anything less than perfect, it would be a lie.
“It needs finishing…” I said, leaning in a little. “Make it flawless. And take it out physically. I want the damn design in front of my eyes next, not on a screen.”
My tone left zero room for negotiation.
“Noted,” he replied immediately, straightening like he’d just been called to attention.
“I’m hungry. Bring your lunch box,” I said.
He didn’t just look at me… he straight-up glared like he wanted to file an HR complaint I’d never approve.
“I didn’t bring lunch today,” he fired back quickly.
“Why?” I asked, already annoyed.
“Because you didn’t let me fucking breathe since yesterday,” he snapped. “I was busy chasing the real identity of your innocent Dhwani.”
His tone dripped sarcasm, like he was two seconds from resigning but too broke to actually do it.
“Let’s go. You’re getting a treat from my side today,” I said, heading toward the door.
Ishaan blinked dramatically. “And what’s this great charitable act, sir?” his voice dripping sarcasm like venom.
“Because I’m genuinely happy after a long damn time,” I replied plainly.
I walked out of his cabin, already thinking about waking up my cute little mute ghost from her precious sleep. She must be hungry too.
The moment I pushed open the door to my cabin, my steps halted.
She wasn’t sleeping.She was standing near my desk — stiff, pale, startled like I’d caught her committing a crime. Her eyes widened the second the door hit the stopper.
“What happened?” I asked, stepping closer.
She instantly hid something behind her hand.
Her face drained of all color, lips pressing into a nervous line. She shook her head.
I closed the distance between us until I was right in front of her. She swallowed hard, throat bobbing.
Is she… afraid?
I reached out, brushing her arm gently with my fingers, my voice low but firm.
“What are you hiding? Show me,” I demanded, not unkindly, but definitely not softly either.
She froze, her knuckles whitening around whatever she was concealing. Her face… was completely pale.
I caught her wrist and pulled her hand forward. The sight punched the air out of my chest.
A deep cut. Blood dripping down her palm.
“What the fuckk—how did this happen?”
My voice came out harsher than I intended. She flinched, and I cursed myself internally.
I guided her to the couch, grabbed the first-aid kit, and sat on my knees in front of her. She held her breath as I poured antiseptic, the sting making her fingers tremble.
“How did you do this?” I snapped, anger masking the fear creeping up my spine.
“Who hurts themselves like this?”
Of course, she didn’t answer. Her lips were pressed together so tightly they were turning white.
I slowed my movements, blowing gently on the wound so the ointment wouldn’t burn too much. Blood wouldn’t stop — it wasn’t a casual cut. This looked like a blade. A sharp one.
My jaw tightened.
I wrapped a thick bandage around her palm, expecting tears, a wince, something.
Nothing.
Her eyes held only silent pain, the kind that makes your stomach twist because you can’t fix it.
I stood, scanning the floor and found a blade lying exactly where she’d been standing. Drenched in her blood.
She had thrown it the second she heard me enter.
My blood ran cold. I picked it up carefully and turned back to her.
“What the fucking hell were you trying to do with this?” My voice wasn’t anger anymore. It was horror.
She shook her head instantly, eyes darting away. And for the first time, I genuinely hated her silence.
I’ve never wished to hear her voice more than this moment, because not knowing the source of her pain felt worse than any truth she could speak.
I exhaled sharply, sitting beside her. “Alright… fine. Come here.”
I pulled her gently into my arms, careful with her bandaged hand. Her head rested against my chest, small, frightened, fragile.
“We’ll figure this out,” I murmured against her hair. I made a mental note to not leave anything sharp anywhere near her. Not a damn thing. Because the thought of her bleeding again…No. Not happening.
DHWANI
I felt sick.
Not from the pain, the cut barely registered anymore.But from what could’ve happened if he’d walked in thirty seconds earlier.
He didn’t know what I was trying to do.He didn’t know why I was standing near his desk. Or what I was trying to take.
If he found out…He would hate me.
I looked at my palm, the bandage already stained with a faint patch of red.
Stupid. So stupid.
I hadn’t come here to hurt myself.
His laptop was open on the desk, the system unlocked because he’d left in a hurry.
I wasn’t supposed to touch it….but I needed those designs. I needed the final blueprint his team was submitting tomorrow…the one that old man wants.
As I found his system unlocked, I’d plugged in the tiny encrypted drive into the USB port, waiting for the system to load the protected folder. Just one more minute… one more document…from those four, and I could leave.
But my hands were shaking too much.
The stress, the fear, the guilt, everything blurred. The blade was on top of the desk, some stupid cutter. It slipped when I tried to pull the drawer gently to find the backup folder.
Before I could catch it, it sliced across my palm.
Blood everywhere.
Dripping on the carpet.
On the USB.
On his damn keyboard.
Then his footsteps. I panicked.
I grabbed the USB trying to hide it, but he entered, so I threw it somewhere, I don't even know where exactly and grabbed the blade, right before the door opened.
He saw the blood.
He saw the fear.
He saw everything… except the truth.
And I didn’t know what terrified me more, the wound on my hand, or the thought of him looking at me with disgust if he ever discovered what I was actually doing in his cabin.
Because I wasn’t here out of curiosity.
I was here to betray him.
And I hated myself for it.
“Dhwani… I want to ask you something,” he said.
My heartbeat skipped. I nodded anyway, pretending to be calm.
“I saw the painting you drew today.”
Painting?
What painting?
Why would he—
He let go of my hand and walked toward the canvas.
Oh.
Right.
I must’ve painted something unconsciously while listening to his voice earlier. My fingers move on their own sometimes, like they know more than I do.
Please… please don’t let it be something stupid.
My breath caught.
OH. FUCK.
My eyes locked onto the tiny USB lying near his shoe, half-hidden under the shadow. My stomach dropped so hard I almost swayed.
“God, not today… please…” I clenched my bandaged palm tightly.
If he noticed it —I was finished.
Thankfully, he lifted the canvas instead and returned to me, the USB untouched.
“This painting,” he said, showing it to me. “How did you draw this design?”
I stared at it.
My lips parted.
It was… a jewellery design.
A stunning one, intricate curves, delicate symmetry.
Deja vu slammed into me.
I remembered Charlie whispering about this exact design in that private meeting I’d overheard.
My eyes shot up to him.
He looked just as stunned.
Oh God…
Did he realize I had been listening?
Does he think I’m spying?
“How did you paint this?” he asked again.
How could I answer?
I didn’t know myself.
My throat closed.
My hands felt cold.
One wrong expression and he would know something was off.
His eyes stayed on me for a long second like he was trying to read my mind. I shook my head pointed towards the painting and my mind trying to tell him I paint it randomly.
He looked stunned, then he exhaled and forced a lighter tone.
“Let’s go for lunch, huh?” he said.
I nodded quickly, giving a small smile I didn’t feel.
But my eyes?
They weren’t leaving the floor.
I kept scanning every inch of the carpet. Because if anyone else found that USB before I did…I was doomed.
He held my wrist and guided me out of the office, careful, like he was making sure he didn’t even graze my skin too hard. My pulse was a mess.
Outside, Ishaan was already waiting. His eyes snapped to me the second we stepped out. Correction: not looking. Staring. Drilling holes. Like I was a file he needed to dissect.
Great.
If Yugant scared people with silence, Ishaan scared them with certainty. He made decisions from his mind; Yugant made them from his heart.
And hearts? Hearts were weak, reckless, stupid.
Minds weren’t. That’s why Ishaan terrified me more.
“Why are you staring at her like you’ll kill her right here?” Yugant snapped, stepping slightly in front of me.
Thank God.
“Why is she here?” Ishaan shot back, tone colder than the AC in that office.
“She is also going for lunch with us.” Yugant answered, tugging me closer by the waist.
My breath hitched.
His cologne wrapped around me, masculine, sharp, dangerous.
Hot. Too hot.
Control yourself, bitch.
“Why?” Ishaan asked again, this time sounding personally offended.
What is he?
His boyfriend?
Because he was damn well acting like one.
Yugant just shook his head, opened the backseat door, and guided me inside before sliding in right beside me, thigh brushing mine on purpose or by accident, honestly, I didn’t know which was worse.
“Are you coming, or do you want to stay hungry?” he asked Ishaan, voice flat.
Ishaan muttered something under his breath, stomped like an irritated bull, and yanked open the passenger door before sitting beside the driver with a loud thud.
As soon as the food arrived, Mr. Raizaada served me first, carefully, silently, like I was glass and he was terrified I’d crack.
Great. Just what I needed. More gentleness from the man I was supposed to ruin.
I lifted my hand to eat, but the moment my fingers curled around the spoon, pain shot up my palm so sharply I almost hissed but stopped my sound somehow.
Left hand.
Perfect.
The one hand I actually needed to function.
He noticed. The man misses nothing.
His fork paused mid-air, jaw tightening before he slid my plate closer to himself.
What? Now he wanted to eat my food?
I raised an eyebrow. He didn’t explain.
Instead, he picked up a bite, turned slightly toward me, and held it to my lips.
I froze.
Stop.
Stop.
You absolute jerk, mental case, Yugant Raizaada.
I’m your enemy.
I came to destroy you.
Not eat from your hand like some pampered… whatever this is.
He should have been raging, roaring, shoving a lawyer in my face.
But no. Here he was, behaving like a love-struck idiot.
Unbelievable.
I opened my mouth anyway and took the morsel.
And that was the problem.
I didn’t hesitate. Not even for a second. I loved this behaviour, bhai loves to do the same.
Before my brain could spiral any further down that dangerous path, Ishaan coughed deliberately. Loud. Yugant shot him a glare lethal enough to silence a courtroom.
I tried to smile, but my eyes drifted past Ishaan.
And the air left my lungs.
??
Any guess, what did she see?
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