As soon as Ishaan stepped out of the bedroom, the calmness on his face broke.
He walked straight to his home office, his anger simmering under the surface.

He shut the door behind him, pulled out his laptop, and opened the security system.

A hidden window popped up-
CCTV Footage: Bedroom - secret Camera

No one in the house knew about this camera.
Not even his parents. knew that ishaan has a secret camera installed in his own bedroom.

And it had been installed long before Aanya ever entered his life.
Even Ishaan couldn't explain why he once felt the need for it.
But today-

Today, it finally had a purpose.

He clicked on the footage from 30 minutes ago.

The screen showed Aanya entering the room.
She arranged her things, cleaned the space, placed her bag in the corner...
Everything normal.

Then she reached the study table.

Ishaan leaned forward.

Aanya picked up a folded paper from the book.
She froze.
Her face changed-confusion first, then shock... then fear.

Ishaan's jaw tightened.

He rewound the footage.

He stared at every micro-expression-
her widened eyes, her trembling fingers, the way she staggered back slightly.

Whatever was written on that paper...
was definitely not from him.

And she definitely wasn't acting.

... I didn't put anything there.
So who did?"

His voice was low but dangerous.

He rewound further-
1 hour back, when the room was empty.

The footage loaded.

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then-

A maid quietly entered the bedroom.

Not cleaning.
Not dusting.
Not doing any work.

She walked straight to the study table...
pulled a folded paper from her apron...
slipped it inside Ishaan's book...
and left.

Ishaan's blood boiled.

His fists clenched.

"What the hell..." he whispered, anger thick in his throat.
"Someone inside my own house is working against me."

He remembered Maya-the file tampering incident.
Another new staff member hired just months ago.

And now this maid.

Two "accidents."
Two new employees.
Both planted.

"Why?" he growled.
"And on whose orders?"

His breathing grew heavier as realization struck.

"These two maids... Mom hired them a few months ago..."
His mind raced.
"So this was planned.
Someone purposely sent them here."

His eyes darkened.

"But who is bold enough to plant people in my house?"

He leaned back, exhaling sharply, rage pulsing through him.

"This traitor... I won't catch her directly.
No," he said, voice dripping with cold fury.
"I'll watch her.
I'll let her think she's safe..."

His eyes turned dangerous, sharp like a predator.

"And then, I'll find out who sent her."

He closed the laptop with a snap.

--

Ishaan stepped out of his home office with a mask of perfect calm.

But inside him?

A storm was brewing.

He walked back into the bedroom where Aanya sat on the couch, hugging a cushion, lost in her thoughts. She looked small... confused... anxious. Her fingers kept brushing over the folded note hidden under her dupatta.

Ishaan stood near the doorway, leaning against the frame, silently observing her.

She didn't notice him.

She was too deep in fear.

Her eyes kept drifting, to the table, window, everywhere in the room... as if someone was watching her.
As if danger was real.

That note had shaken her.

Ishaan's chest tightened.

Guilt. Anger. Possessiveness. A strange protectiveness.
He didn't know which emotion was stronger.

He walked closer.

Aanya quickly straightened, startled when she saw him. She forced a small smile.

"You... want coffee?" she asked softly.

"No," he replied gently-almost too gently-while sitting on the beside her.

But he never took his eyes off her.

Not even for a second.

She grew uneasy under his gaze.
Her fingers fiddled with her kurti, she avoided eye contact, she shifted uncomfortably.

Ishaan noticed everything.

Every nervous breath.
Every flinch.
Every attempt she made to look normal.

Silence stretched between them like a tight rope.

Finally, Aanya stood up.
"I'll go... help nita aunty in the kitchen."

She took one step-

"Stop"

His voice wasn't loud.
But it froze her in place.

Aanya turned slowly, eyes wide, confused.

Ishaan's expression didn't change. No anger. No softness. Just a calm intensity.

"You don't need to help in the kitchen," he said.

"It's okay... I want to-"

"Stay here."

Another command.
Another reason for her heartbeat to stumble.

He wasn't rude.
He wasn't shouting.

He was simply... watching her.
Like he was trying to understand something she didn't know she was showing.

She swallowed. "Did I... do something wrong?"

Ishaan didn't answer immediately. He simply looked at her-longer than she expected, long enough for her heartbeat to trip in her chest.

Then, in a calm but unsettlingly steady voice, he asked,
"What was written on that paper?"

Her breath hitched. She froze.
"W-what paper?" she tried to act confused.

"The paper you're holding like it's choking you to death." His tone didn't rise, but it sharpened. "What's written in it that scared you this much?"

"N-nothing," she whispered.

"Give me the paper."
He extended his hand toward her-slow, firm, leaving no room for denial.

Aanya looked at his hand... then at him.
"It's nothing, Ishaa-"

He cut her off, voice deeper.
"Aanya. Give me the paper."

Hesitantly-almost trembling-she handed it over.

Ishaan unfolded the note.
The moment his eyes landed on the words, his jaw clenched so hard a muscle ticked violently along the side. His expression turned ice-cold-as if he could murder the person who dared write something like this.

He drew a long breath, forcing control back into his voice, and looked at Aanya.

She stood there quietly, waiting-fear mixing with expectation.

"Why are you this scared?" he finally asked. "Are you afraid someone will hurt you?"

She shook her head slowly.
"No... I am not scared someone will harm me."

She looked him farm with determination in eyes.

"I'm scared this note will become one more reason for you to hate me... one more thing added to the list of yours to hate verma's. I'm scared you'll twist this... and blame me for it. That you'll step back from what we decided-to find the truth."

Ishaan just stared at her, stunned into silence.
For a few seconds, he couldn't speak.

Then he exhaled, long and controlled.

"You don't need to be scared," he said quietly. "I'm not going to twist anything and put it on you. I gave you my word-I will find the truth. I won't go back on that. Not for anything."

Aanya blinked-surprised. She hadn't expected this answer... not from him.
She sighed softly, lowered herself onto the seat beside him, but kept a respectful distance.

After a moment, she asked the question that had been haunting her since morning-since she saw the news.

"Ishaan... in the news, one reporter asked, you got married on the same day you were supposed to marry your girlfriend." She hesitated, voice trembling. "The day you married me... that wedding hall... everything was set for your wedding with your girlfriend.?"

Ishaan shut his eyes the moment the question left her lips-like the truth physically hurt him.

He let out a deep breath before opening his eyes again.

"Yes," he said, his voice calm but heavy. "Everything was set for my marriage with my girlfriend. But it didn't happen. And I ended up marrying you. Same day. Same stage."

Aanya didn't respond.
She just sat there-quiet, shaken.

This was the first time Ishaan had ever answered one of her questions.
From the day she entered this house, she had asked him countless times why he married her, what the truth was... and he never replied.

But tonight... he did.

She didn't say anything after that.
She didn't want to ask everything at once.
He is slowly opening up... let him take his time, she thought.

There was so much she needed to know-
What happened the day Nisha died.
The scandal.
The wedding.
His ex.
Everything.

But before all that... I need to do something else first, she reminded herself.

With that thought, she stood up silently and walked out of the bedroom. Ishaan didn't even notice-he was still sitting on the sofa, scrolling through his emails on his phone, buried in work.

Aanya walked to the second room beside their bedroom and gently knocked.

The door opened instantly and a cheerful voice greeted her.

"Aanya dii! Come! Let's play a game!" Jay said excitedly.

Aanya smiled tiredly and shook her head.
"No, Jay... not this time. I actually need your laptop."

"Laptop?" he blinked, then grinned. "Ohh, okay!"

He rushed inside, picked up his laptop, and handed it to her with a small teasing smile.
"Your novel still isn't finished, huh?"

Aanya flushed slightly.
She had told him she borrowed his laptop to read long online novels.
And Jay-sweet, innocent, trusting Jay-always believed her.

"No, Jay... it's a very long novel," she said softly, feeling guilty. "I'm sorry I keep taking your laptop again and again."

"Oh no, Aanya dii! I told you-I barely use it anyway. I play games on my PC."
He smiled brightly. "If you want, you can just keep this laptop."

She shook her head immediately.
"No, no... I'll read my book and return it to you. Okay? Now go, continue your game."

And with that, she walked away.

Later that night

Everyone sat around the dining table, eating silently.
The air was thick and heavy-no one spoke.

Until Mr. Dinesh finally broke the silence.

"Ishaan... did you find out who leaked all the information to the reporters?"

Ishaan wiped his mouth and answered calmly,

"No, uncle. My team is still working on it. But there's nothing concrete yet. Everyone already knows about the scandal... but about Mom slipping into a coma, and my marriage-only a handful of people were aware of those things. Trusted people."
He paused. "They wouldn't leak it. I don't know who did this. But my team is trying to take down all the posts and trace the source."

Mrs. Shikha sighed sharply.
"The Vermas must have done it, Ishaan. Who else?" she said with bitterness. "You told us yourself-during the scandal, when you caught that worker, he took Aransh's name. Said Aransh asked him to sabotage Mehra's reputation so the Verma family could rise to the top."

Her voice hardened with anger.

"I'm sure they're the ones who told the reporters about this too. They know how big the Mehra Tech project is. They know if it succeeds, you'll get Businessman of the Year. Of course Aransh wouldn't want that. He wants to be on top. That's why he did all that with Nisha... and now this."

"First he devoured my daughter... now he wants to destroy my son too." Angry tears welled up in her eyes.

"Calm down, Sikha. We'll find out who's behind all of this," Mr mehra said, taking her hand gently in his.

Ishaan listened quietly, not interrupting her frustration.
But his eyes slid to the side-toward Aanya.

She sat stiffly beside him, head lowered, untouched food on her plate, fingers frozen around the spoon.

She was hurting.
Every word stabbed her-because they weren't talking about just any family.
They were talking about her family.

Ishaan knew she was breaking inside...
But what could he say?

This was what they believed.
This was what they had heard.
This was the truth as far as everyone knew.

And he had no proof yet to deny it.

After dinner, everyone retreated to their rooms.
The mansion grew quiet-heavy, still, almost suffocating in silence.

But somewhere far from that warmth...
Hidden deep in darkness...
Someone was awake.

In a dim, isolated room, only the glow of a laptop lit the darkness.
A shadowy figure sat in front of laptop screens, typing at a furious speed.
Lines of code flashed rapidly-green text racing across black windows.
CCTV feeds from various streets, , and private buildings popped up one after another on the screen.

Click.
Swipe.
Zoom.

Every video feed was traced, accessed, hacked, and pulled into the laptop.

The shadow leaned closer, eyes sharp, scanning each frame.

Then-
In one particular video-the figure froze.

"...There you are," the shadow whispered.

A car appeared on the screen.
Clear plate number.
Clear model.
A blurred figure around it-but even the blur couldn't hide what was happening in that frame.

The shadow tapped the screen, zooming in, enhancing it.
The footage became crystal clear... and the shadow's breath hitched.

"So... this is it," the figure murmured.
"This is all I needed."

The laptop was slammed shut.

--

The shadow stepped out into the open- area, surrounded by flowers. Night dim of street light shimmering on flowers.

A man stood waiting there, guarding the entrance, hands in his pockets, alert.

The shadow approached him confidently.

"I need your help with something," the figure said-voice low, covered, unreadable.

The man nodded.
"Yes. That's why I'm here."

The shadow opened the laptop again briefly, playing the captured footage for him.

"Did you see the car in this video?" the shadow asked coldly.
"Here's the plate number... every detail you'll need."
A slip of paper was handed to him.
"I want you to find the owner of this car. Everything about him."

The man nodded again, eyes serious.

"And when you find him," the shadow continued, voice harder, "bring me his phone. I don't care how you get it-just bring it to me."

The man didn't hesitate.
"I'll try my best."

"Good," the shadow said, shutting the laptop again.

With that, the figure turned around and disappeared back into the darkness, leaving the man staring at the paper with the plate number... and the weight of a dangerous new mission.

Soft morning light slipped through the curtains, spreading a warm glow across the room.
The first thing it touched... was Aanya's face.

Ishaan woke up first. He blinked at his phone.

"8 o'clock... great," he muttered and stretched.

He turned toward the bed-
And immediately sighed.

There she was.
Sleeping like a dead log.

Her mouth slightly open, soft breaths escaping...
The comforter was half on the bed, half on her, twisted and tangled like it fought a war overnight.
Her hair was spilled everywhere-on the pillow, on her face, even on her hand.
One leg stretched to the corner, the other hanging halfway off the bed like a starfish.

Ishaan rubbed his temples.

"I've never seen a girl sleep like this," he whispered to himself.
"She sleeps alone on a double bed... and still manages to make the bed look too small."

He stared at her again for a moment-longer than he intended.

"...But somehow, she still looks cute," he admitted under his breath.

Realizing what he said, he quickly shook his head.

"What the hell, Ishaan? Get a grip."

He stood up, folded the blanket properly, placed it inside the closet, and headed toward the bathroom.
But before entering, he glanced at her once more-still completely lost in her own world, unaware of anything.

A mischievous idea flashed in his mind.

He stepped inside the bathroom...
And slammed the door loudly, as if someone had kicked it.

BANG!

Aanya shot up with a jolt, eyes wide with fear.

"Ahh-what happened?!" she gasped, looking around frantically.

Then she realized it was just Ishaan... closing the bathroom door like a dramatic villain.

"Khadus..." she muttered under her breath and lay back down, leaning against the headboard to continue sleeping.

Ten minutes later, Ishaan stepped out-fresh, calm, and composed-only to find her still dozing, now sitting and leaning on the bed frame mouth open, as if nothing happened.

He walked up to her and gave her shoulder a gentle push.

Immediately, she flopped sideways and fell on the bed like a sack of potatoes.

She pushed herself up again, hair messy, eyes half-open, looking exactly as disoriented as before.

She glared at him.
"What's wrong with you? What are you doing?"

"Nothing," Ishaan said casually.
"Just checking whether you're alive or not."

He smirked, then goes to the closet.

Aanya huffed dramatically, stood up, and marched toward the bathroom.

"I'm awake now," she grumbled.
Then she shut the door behind her to freshen up.

--

Everyone sat around the dining table, eating silently-Mr. Mehra reading the newspaper, Mrs. Sikha sipping her tea, Aanya quietly serving Jay more parathas, and Ishaan scrolling through a few emails on his phone.

Just then-
Ishaan's phone buzzed.

He glanced at the screen, expecting a work call.
But the moment he saw the number... his expression changed.

He stiffened.
His fingers tightened around the phone.
A frown creased his forehead.

Everyone at the table noticed.

Still, without saying a word, he got up slightly from his chair and answered the call.

"Yes... Ishaan Mehra speaking."

The table went silent.
Even the sound of cutlery stopped.

As the person on the other end spoke, the color slowly drained from Ishaan's face.

His posture straightened.
His eyes widened a little.

Then-
He froze.

Like all the air had been knocked out of his lungs.

His hand trembled.
His lips parted, but no sound came out.

A heavy tension settled over the table.

Aanya exchanged a worried glance with sikha.
Jay stopped eating and stared.
Jiya staring at her brother worringly.
Mrs. Sikha leaned forward, anxiety creeping into her voice.

"Ishaan... what happened?"

He didn't answer immediately.

He lowered the phone slowly-almost mechanically-and placed it on the table.

Everyone waited.

His throat worked as he tried to speak.
When he finally did... his voice cracked.

"Mo-Sikha mom..."
He swallowed hard, eyes glassy with shock.

"It... it's Mom."

The words barely escaped him.
A cold gasp rippled across the table.
Aanya's heart sank.

Thank you for reading
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Bye bye take care.