Up close, Aarya Verma was... disarming. Not in the obvious, feminine charm kind of way. No. She carried power differently—quiet, simmering beneath the surface. Like a match that hadn't been struck yet, but could burn down cities once it was. Her presence lingered, even in silence, the way storms hovered on the edge of a horizon—ominous yet oddly beautiful.
His voice was softer when he finally spoke. "I expected arrogance. Defensiveness. A polished façade. But you... you look me in the eye."
"And that unsettles you?" she asked, her voice cool but curious.
"I don't get unsettled," he said, almost too quickly.
She raised an eyebrow. "Of course not. You just break into people's offices with old vendettas and cryptic introductions. Very stable."
Shaurya let out an involuntary chuckle—brief and surprised. "You've got claws."
"I told Karan the same thing this morning," she murmured. "He didn't laugh either."
Their eyes locked again.
Something shifted.
Shaurya saw it then—not the enemy he had imagined for so long, but a woman who had learned to walk through fire and still carry herself like a queen. And Aarya, for the first time, felt the weight of his gaze not as a threat—but as a touch.
The silence stretched.
Not awkward.
Just… dense.
Like the space between lightning and thunder.
Shaurya took a step closer, voice low. "You know, I thought this meeting would end with me walking away disappointed. That I'd confirm you were just another legacy brat who hid behind her surname."
"Is that still what you see?" she asked, not moving.
He didn't answer. Instead, he lifted his hand—slow, unhurried—and brushed a stray strand of hair away from her cheek. His fingers barely grazed her skin, but the contact was electric.
Before he could pull away, his thumb lingered, tracing lightly against her cheekbone in a motion far too tender for enemies. It was instinctive, thoughtless—yet deliberate enough to make Aarya's breath catch. She wasn't prepared for the warmth of his touch, nor the quiet thrum it sent through her. A strange vulnerability flickered in her chest. Her body betrayed her, leaning ever so slightly into it, before she abruptly stepped back with a subtle shrug, brushing her own shoulder as if shaking off something that wasn't physical. The air around them felt warmer suddenly—charged, intimate, and dangerously unspoken.
Aarya froze—not out of fear, but because something in her chest fluttered. Damn it.
Shaurya spoke again, his voice softer now. "No. That's not what I see."
"And what do you see, Mr. Singh?" she asked, her breath catching ever so slightly.
His answer came without hesitation. "A storm I didn't prepare for."
The tension between them thickened. His hand lingered just a second longer than necessary before he pulled it back, but the damage was done. The invisible line between them—drawn in vengeance and suspicion—had blurred.
Aarya stepped back, just enough to regain her composure. She took a deep breath, grounding herself. Her walls rebuilt in a blink, but her heart still hadn't slowed down. "You came here looking for an enemy. Be careful you don't find something else."
Shaurya's eyes darkened. "And you? What did you find, Ms. Verma?"
She didn't answer.
But her silence said enough.
Janhavi barged in, her face flushed. "Aarya—there's a situation. Press outside. Someone leaked the boardroom meeting transcript."
Aarya straightened instantly. The softness in her eyes vanished, replaced by icy resolve. "Handle it. I'll be down in ten."
Janhavi looked between her and Shaurya, sensing the shift in air, then nodded and left without another word.
Aarya turned back to him, her calm mask slipping back into place like it had never cracked. "We're done here."
"Are we?" he asked, not moving.
She met his gaze one last time. "We will be."
Shaurya gave a slow nod, that enigmatic smile returning. "We'll see."
He turned and walked out without another word.
But both of them knew…
The real game had just begun.
And for the first time—revenge wasn't the only thing at stake.
----
Aarya stood by the tall windows of her study, the city lights flickering like distant stars against the velvet night. Behind her, Janhavi moved silently, her laptop open, eyes scanning through layers of encrypted files. The glow of the screen lit up her focused face.
"Shaurya Singh," Aarya said, her voice calm but clipped. "I want everything—his financial ties, political affiliations, business history, and any skeletons in his closet. No assumptions. Only facts."
Janhavi nodded without question. "Already on it. He's...harder to trace than I thought. Most of his investments are routed through shell companies and offshore accounts. But I found a pattern."
Aarya turned, intrigued. "Go on."
Janhavi clicked through a few tabs before pulling up a web of linked companies. "These firms all have different owners on paper, but the money trail leads back to Singh Enterprises—well, what's left of it. And more interestingly..."
She zoomed in on a cluster of companies.
"These are direct rivals to Verma Industries. All of them have grown in strength over the past two years. Shaurya is investing heavily—but quietly. He's not here for curiosity, Aarya. He's here for blood."
Aarya's eyes narrowed, but she didn't flinch. "Good. Let him come. The more he steps into the light, the easier it becomes to cut his strings."
----
Elsewhere in the city, under the dim overcast sky of the old Churchhill Cemetery, Shaurya Singh knelt by a modest gravestone. His jaw clenched as he placed a single marigold on the grave, his father's name etched into the stone like a scar that never faded.
"Everyone forgot you," he murmured, his voice low, bitter. "But I haven't."
He remembered the headlines. Verma Industries Linked to Investor Suicide. The whispers in courtrooms. The media frenzy that followed. The shame. The loss. Aarya's father had walked free, unscathed. His had not.
"You told me not to seek revenge," he said, his fingers brushing the cold stone. "But how can I not, when she walks around like she owns this city again?"
A gust of wind swept past, ruffling his coat and the wild grass around the grave. He stood slowly, eyes hardened. "She may look like fire, but I'll remind her how easily fire turns to ash."
----
At Malhotra Tower, Kartik sat stiffly across from Karan Malhotra in his private lounge, fingers drumming against the armrest of the velvet chair. The air was thick with unspoken tension.
"You should've told me she had backing from the ROC," Kartik said, his voice tight. "That wasn't a bluff—she's back with teeth."
Karan sipped his whiskey, unfazed. "And yet she's still on the outside."
"For how long?" Kartik snapped. "She's got the media, some shareholders, and now there's talk of investors shifting loyalties. If she exposes my ties to your shell accounts—"
Karan's smile was thin and cold. "You forget, Kartik. We built those walls together. If they crumble, we both get buried."
Kartik stood, angry now. "You need me to hold this together. Don't threaten me."
Karan's eyes darkened. He rose slowly, stepping closer until their faces were inches apart.
"Don't mistake necessity for mercy," he said, his voice soft but dangerous. "If I sense even the slightest shift in your loyalty, I won't hesitate. You'll be the first pawn I sacrifice."
Kartik flinched but didn't respond. He turned on his heel and stormed out, the slam of the door echoing behind him.