Author pov:-

After reaching his dungeon, Arvith walked straight toward the sight he had been waiting for. The air was thick, damp, and heavy with the stench of iron and dried blood. Dim lights flickered against stone walls, casting long, twisted shadows.

One of his bodyguards pulled a chair forward. Arvith sat down with effortless authority, crossing one leg over the other. A knife glinted in his hand as he casually twirled it around his finger, the metal catching the light with every slow spin.

In front of him sat Shukla-tied tightly to a chair, his body covered in bruises and dried blood. His lips trembled, his breaths uneven and shallow.

Every inhale felt like fire burning inside his chest.

"So, Mr. Shukla," Arvith said calmly, his voice dangerously composed, "would you like to tell me why you sold the shipment?"

Shukla said nothing. His eyes stayed fixed on the floor.

For a brief second, anger flashed across Arvith's face-but he controlled it just as quickly.

Rage never helped. Rage only delayed the truth.

"No?" Arvith tilted his head slightly. "Alright. If you don't want to talk about business... then let's talk about your family."

The color drained from Shukla's face. His head snapped up, terror etched deeply into his expression.

"Don't you dare touch my family!" Shukla screamed, struggling against the ropes.

Arvith chuckled softly. "Zeesh... no need to shout. Are you trying to make me deaf?" His eyes darkened. "And you already know what I'm capable of.

"

The knife continued spinning lazily between his fingers.

"Please... please don't do anything to them," Shukla sobbed. "They've done nothing wrong. I'll tell you everything. Everything."

"I haven't done anything yet," Arvith said with a smirk. "But fine. Speak."

"M-Maheswari," Shukla stammered. "They're behind this. Harsh Maheswari planned it all."

Arvith's fingers slowly curled into a fist.

"They will pay," he whispered, more to himself than anyone else.

Maheswari and Rajput-names bound by a dark past that refused to stay buried, no matter how deep it was buried.

Without another word, Arvith stood up. His chair scraped harshly against the floor.

"Shoot him," he ordered calmly.

The sound echoed seconds later.

For traitors, there were no second chances.

Later that night, Arvith returned home. He stripped off his clothes and stood under a cold shower, letting the icy water crash against his skin. It washed away the blood, the sweat, but not the rage burning inside him. Exhaustion finally dragged him into restless sleep.

The next morning,

Arvith and Ayan had breakfast with their family before heading to the office. Everything appeared normal, but the silence carried unspoken tension.

As soon as Arvith entered his cabin, he called Aman.

"Work done?" Arvith asked, his eyes never leaving the laptop screen.

"Yes, boss," Aman replied. "I've gathered everything about Maheswari."

"Every detail," Arvith said flatly.

"Harsh Maheswari and his family are currently living in Delhi after his father's death. He's deeply involved in drug trafficking and human trade. The shipment sold to the Italians-Maheswari handled it personally."

Arvith's jaw tightened.

"Anything else?"

"Yes boss" Aman said, pausing. "Something... interesting."

"Our investigation shows Maheswari has a daughter-Arika Mathur. She lives with the Mathur family in Delhi and is a first-year Computer Science student at RVS College."

Arvith frowned. "If she's Maheswari's daughter, why does she live with the Mathurs? And why she carries their surname?"

"The Mathurs helped Maheswari in his illegal work. Loyal partners," Aman explained. "They were also involved in that incident. Why Arika lives with them is still unclear."

At the word incident, Arvith closed his eyes.

Memories clawed their way back-sharp, merciless, suffocating.

For a moment, the most feared man felt unbearably alone. Surrounded by people, feared by many... yet no one could reach the emptiness hollowing his chest.

He opened his eyes, hatred burning fiercely within them and took arika name with hatered.

"Keep an eye on the Mathurs. On Arika. And especially on Maheswari," he ordered.

Ayan, standing near the door, overhead the conversation and stepped forward.

"I'll help too," he said with his fists clenched. "This involves Maheswari."

Arvith nodded. He knew Ayan's pain-though he never knew that someone else had suffered even more.

After Aman left, Arvith pulled Ayan into a tight hug.

"I'm alive today because of you, Shreya maa, and our family," Ayan said softly. "I was an orphan... but you accepted me. I'll always be grateful."

Arvith smacked his back lightly.

"Enough emotions. We are, were, and always will be your family. Want me to tell maa about this?" he teased.

Ayan chuckled. "Please don't, otherwise not only she but whole female ladies of the house will kick me out for one week."

"Better you got it"arvith said with a smirk.

"Let's get to work," Arvith said.

On the other side of the city,

Arika moved quietly in the kitchen, preparing snacks and tea for Maya's friends. She carried the tray carefully into the hall and placed it on the table.

"Oh... Arika," Shila said, scanning her coldly.

"How are you?"

"I-I'm good, aunty," Arika replied softly.

"Why are you standing here?" Maya snapped.

"Go back to the kitchen. There's still work left."

Without a word, Arika turned away.

In a house full of people, she felt invisible-unseen, unheard, unwanted.

Later, Shila leaned closer to Maya. "Maya... my son Rohit likes Arika. He's been asking to marry her since last Diwali."

Maya's lips curved into a slow smile. "I'll talk to my husband."

That night, in Maya and Manoj's room, the decision was sealed.

"She came with a proposal," Maya said. "Shila's son wants Arika."

Manoj frowned. "That boy drinks, smokes, and has complaints against him."

"So what?" Maya shrugged. "We just want her out. She's manhoos anyway. This is perfect."

"Call them tomorrow," Manoj said coldly. "Say yes. And don't tell Abhay."

Outside the room, Riya overheard everything. A cruel smile spread across her face.

"Finally... she'll be gone."

Unaware of the storm gathering around her, Arika lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling. The room felt colder than usual. Every shadow seemed darker. Somewhere far away, fate had already chosen her path.

Decisions about her life were being made-without her consent, without her voice.

Once again, she was alone in a battle she didn't even know had begun.

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