17. New Guest.
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DHWANI
My lips trembled as the cold edge of the knife pressed against my throat.
“I asked you,” he said again, slower, deadlier, “who did this?”
“It… it was him,” I whispered, swallowing hard. “The person w-who sent me here.”
His grip didn’t loosen. “So you walked into my house as a pawn? Dancing to someone else’s orders?”
“Y–yes,” I admitted, voice shaking. “I came because I had to… to save my brother.”
“Samarth?”
His eyes darkened further, like someone dimmed the last light inside them.
“Y–yes,” I nodded quickly, then blurted, panic overriding sense,
“Can you…uh, maybe pull the knife back a little? I’m already scared, and if it slips, I’ll die. And then you’ll go to jail. Which would be very inconvenient for both of us.”
His brows furrowed, as he looked at the knife then back at me.
The knife didn’t move.
But it didn’t press harder either.
“Threatening me with prison now?” he murmured.
I gave a tiny, breathless shrug. “I’m just… very invested in staying alive today.”
“Staying alive so you could destroy another family with your murderer brother?” he taunted, the words deliberate, meant to cut deeper than the blade.
My fists clenched so hard my nails bit into my palms.
“My brother hasn’t done anything,” I shot back, teeth grinding.
He smirked, slow and cruel.
“Every criminal says the same.”
“Shut up!” I shoved him with all the strength I had left.
He didn’t expect it.
He staggered back and fell onto the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight. In the chaos, the knife slipped—and before either of us could think, it was in my hand.
I leaned over him, breath ragged, the blade pressed to his throat now. Close enough that he could feel the cold promise of it.
“We’re not criminals,” I said, my voice low, shaking with something far more dangerous than panic.
“Do you get it? We are not criminals.”
My grip tightened.
“Don’t you ever say that again.”
Because criminal wasn’t just a word to me.
It was a nightmare. A stain I’d been running from for years. A lie that had chased me across cities.
I had escaped it once.
I wouldn’t let it follow us again.
I waited for his reply.
It never came.
Instead, his hand slid to my waist.
I sucked in a sharp breath as I realized—too late, that I was straddling his lap, my balance stolen the moment he pulled me closer.
Damn it.
His grip tightened, firm, unapologetic. Not gentle.
“Is this how you plan to threaten me?” he asked calmly, almost amused. “By crawling this close?”
My fingers shook, but I pressed the knife harder against his throat.
A dark chuckle left him.
“Am I?” His gaze hardened. “Then imagine how I feel watching you stand here with a knife, selling me a story about sacrifice and brotherly love.”
His finger traced from my forehead down toward my lips, stopping just short.
“What do you think?” he asked, mock curling his mouth. “That I’ll trust you? That you did all of this just to save your brother?”
“It’s not a fucking story,” I shot back.
His eyes flashed.
“Oh?” His voice dropped. “Then who the fuck killed my entire family and vanished?”
My throat tightened. “It wasn’t my brother.”
My eyes burned. “Someone else did it. Bhai has been missing for years, years before your family’s accident.”
In a blink, his hand snapped out. He wrenched the knife from me and flung it across the room. Metal clanged against the wall.
He shoved me onto the bed, his hand pushing my shoulder into the mattress, fury blazing in his face.
“Lie,” he hissed. “One more lie. Don’t you have any shame?”
“It’s not a lie,” I cried. “He’s missing. The person who killed your family wasn’t Bhai, it was—”
I stopped. The truth jammed in my throat.
“It was someone else,” I said, turning my face away. “We have nothing to do with you or your family.”
His voice cut like glass.
“It was Samarth’s car. He confessed in a video and then disappeared.” His eyes bored into me. “And you’re still refusing?”
“I’m not refusing anything,” I said, shaking.
“I’m saying there’s someone else. Go back.
Investigate the case again.” My voice broke.
“I’ve been searching for my brother for almost four years.
I haven’t seen him in four years—and you’re telling me he came back, killed your family, confessed, and vanished? ”
I looked at him, tears spilling despite my will. “Does that even make sense to you?”
His eyes flickered with something unreadable, and his grip on my shoulder loosened—just a little. As if, for the first time, he was actually listening.
I closed my eyes. At least… at least he was thinking.
“I’ll investigate again,” he said.
A fragile smile broke on my lips. Hope, small, foolish, dangerous.
He got off me and turned to leave.
“Yugant,” I called out, my voice cracking.
He stopped, his back still to me.
“I don’t have time,” I said, the words spilling out now. “I have only seven days to save my brother. Just seven. I need those designs—please… Please give them to me.”
My pride shattered as I spoke, but I didn’t stop.
“If you investigate, it will take time. Too much time. And by then, I’ll lose him forever. I haven’t seen him in four years. He’s all I have left. He’s my only family.”
My hands came together in front of him, a silent plea. “Please help me find my brother.”
He turned towards me, hands in pocket. The voice came cold and steady.
“Nothing comes free, Ms Rathore. Everything has a price.” He paused. “Bring me something you’re willing to put on the line and consider it the punishment for your betrayal.”
My throat tightened.
“I don’t have anything,” I whispered. “Nothing… except my brother. Or myself.”
He smiled, not the soft one.
“That,” he said quietly, eyes dark and deliberate, “is exactly what you have.”
The words settled between us like a verdict.
Not loud.
Not cruel.
He walked away, leaving me standing there with nothing but my breath and my choices—both breaking, both mine.
“Restart the investigation into my family’s accident,” I said.
Ishaan looked up sharply. “Sir? Again?” Confusion crept into his tone. “We’ve already done it twice.”
“It wasn’t enough,” I replied flatly. “Do it a third time. Leave the police out of it. I want this handled privately—by us.”
He hesitated. “You’re doing this because Dhwani said something?”
I shook my head slowly. “I’m doing this because what she said makes sense. And because of Samarth.”
I stood, walking toward the window. “According to Dhwani, Samarth has been missing for the last four years. Around that same time, I went to Rajasthan and met his uncle. He never said Samarth was missing only that they didn’t know where he was. There’s a difference.”
I paused, memories aligning into something uglier.
“Before that, I hadn’t spoken to Samarth for almost two years. The last time he called me, he was in Mumbai. He said he was looking for someone—he sounded desperate.”
My jaw tightened.
“Then some stupid incident happened. A girl crossed my path, there was chaos, my phone fell somewhere in the car. I dropped her at the police station. After that, Samarth’s number never connected again.”
I turned back to Ishaan, my voice colder now.
“So no—this isn’t about believing Dhwani blindly. This is about timelines not matching. Gaps that were ignored. And a truth that was too conveniently closed.”
I met his eyes. “Find out what really happened, Ishaan. I don’t want assumptions anymore. I want facts.”
Ishaan inhaled slowly. “I’ll do it, sir. But what about Dhwani?” he asked carefully. “Will you really let her go after everything she’s done?”
I turned to him sharply. “Don’t interfere.”
My voice was firm, final.
“This is between me and her. You don’t get involved.”
He held my gaze for a second, then nodded.
“And Charvi’s son?” I asked. “Did you find him?”
“Yes,” Ishaan replied. “He’s safe. I sent Charvi abroad as well. If she stayed here, her life would’ve been at risk. Whoever was behind this now knows we’re close to something.”
Good.
I looked away, my thoughts already spiraling back to Dhwani.
If she was lying, I’d destroy her this time.
I got ready for the office and walked downstairs, but something felt off.
A lot had changed overnight.
I didn’t send a servant to call Dhwani for breakfast.
I didn’t wait for her at the table.
There were no soft anklet bells echoing through the house like a harmless little ghost haunting my mornings.
No irrational fear of leaving her alone, no stupid thoughts about what chaos she might cause if unsupervised.
Just silence.
I used to crave hearing her voice.
But not like this.
“You destroyed everything, Dhwani,” I muttered under my breath. “Even the feeling I didn’t realize I was starting to fall into.” And that realization hit harder than her betrayal ever could.
I settled into my chair at the dining table, scrolling through emails while waiting for breakfast.
Seconds passed.
Then a minute.
Then another.
Nothing.
My jaw tightened.
I stood and walked toward the kitchen—and the sight in front of me made my blood boil.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I shouted. Dhwani stood right there.
Not just standing—drowned.
Flour.
Everywhere.
Her hair. Her lashes. Her clothes. The floor beneath her feet. It looked like she’d taken a shower from an entire sack of flour.
White. Completely white.
“Good morning,” she chirped, blinking at me. Those damn lashes dusted in flour.
I stepped closer, fury rolling through me, reaching out to grab her, and my foot slipped.
Hard.
The world tilted, my balance vanished, and the next thing I knew, I was on the floor.
Covered.
In.
White.
Slowly, I turned my head.
She was looking down at me, wide-eyed, then, traitorously—biting her lip to stop a smile.
I clenched my jaw.
“Dhwani,” I said dangerously, voice low, lethal, “if you laugh… I swear I’ll end you.”
She bit her lip hard, really hard like she was trying to hold it in.
Then she lost.
A laugh burst out of her, loud and unapologetic.
I took one step toward her.
She bolted to the other side of the counter.
“How dare you laugh?” I snapped.
“Well… you did fall quite gracefully, Mr. Raizaada. Ten out of ten. Olympic-level slip.”
My jaw clenched. “ How dare you–”
“Oh, absolutely,” she said cheerfully. “Look at you, flour prince of Raizaada Mansion.”
I lunged for her.
She squeaked and ran.
“Dhwani!” I shouted.
She darted past the island, barefoot, laughing, leaving white footprints everywhere.
I chased after her as she bolted into the living area.
“Wait—” I yelled, seeing her about to crash into someone.
But before she could stop, she collided straight into them.
“I… I’m sorry,” she mumbled, finally sobering as she looked up.
An older couple stood in front of her.
My grandparents.
Vishwajeet Raizaada and Sharda Raizaada.
Daadi shoved Dhwani back harshly.
Dhwani stumbled, barely managing to keep herself from falling, her eyes widening in pure shock. The laughter vanished from her face in an instant.
I stepped forward immediately.
I already knew—this was about to turn ugly.
“Why did you push me?” Dhwani asked, her voice firm.
Daadi’s eyes swept over her from head to toe, filled with open disgust.
“Why did I push you?” she scoffed. “Do you even see yourself?”
Dhwani swallowed. “Okay I know I am not looking presentable, I know I collided with you,” she said quietly. “But I already said I’m sorry.”
Daadi let out a bitter laugh. “Sorry?” she snapped. “Look at you—running around the house like this, covered in filth, laughing shameless-”
“That’s enough,” I cut in, my voice firm. “She apologized, Daadi.”
Daadi’s head snapped toward me, fury blazing.
“Oh, of course,” she said sharply. “You’ll take her side now. The same girl whose brother destroyed your entire family. The same brother who left you to carry everything alone, old grandparents, a depressed sister, and a cousin who lost his mind.”
My jaw tightened. “Whatever happened, Dhwani hasn’t done anything.”
Daadi scoffed again. “But her brother did,” she shot back. “And you brought her into this house. Playing games. Laughing. Chasing her around like a fool.”
“She has nothing to do with what he did,” I said, my voice low but unwavering.
Daadi stared at me, disbelief and anger mixing in her eyes.
“You’re blind, Yugant,” she said coldly. “Blind enough to forget who paid the price for that family’s sins. I lost my son and son-in-law, my daughter and daughter-in-law. You can forget everything, but I couldn’t.”
Dhwani stood frozen between us, her flour-stained hands clenched, eyes glassy—but she didn’t cry. Not yet.
“ It’s all because of her, and her filthy brother.”
“ Sharda, stop it!” Daadu tried to stop her.
Before I could respond, Dhwani spoke again. Her voice wasn’t loud but it was firm enough to silence the room.
“That’s enough, Daadi,” she said. “If you have something to say, say it to me. Not about my brother.”
Daadi stared at her in disbelief.
“Look at her,” she said coldly. “See how sharp her tongue is. No shame. No fear. We loved her brother like our own grandson and this is what he gave us in return.”
Dhwani’s hands clenched at her sides, her eyes burned, but her voice didn’t rise. “It wasn’t my brother,” she said, looking at me directly. “I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again.”
No one replied.
She turned away, pausing only once to look at Daadi and Daadu, no hatred in her eyes, only exhaustion. Then she walked away.
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