Meera had been tapping on her tablet for twenty minutes straight. The croissants had arrived, turned cold, and were now sitting sadly on the table, untouched.

I watched her face. First, she looked focused. Then confused. Then frustrated. Finally, she put the tablet down and looked at me with an expression that screamed 'error 404'.

"Ma'am," Meera started, rubbing her temples. "This is... weird."

"What is?" I asked, leaning forward. "Did you find her?"

"No," Meera shook her head. "That’s the weird part. She’s not mentioned anywhere."

I frowned. "What do you mean 'not mentioned'? Like, not in the recent news?"

"No, Ma'am. I mean... at all," Meera lowered her voice. "I checked the guest lists from the old galas. I checked the media archives. I even checked the internal company memos from five years ago. Tara isn't there."

She looked spooked. "I saw her. The staff saw her. Even the family members saw her clinging to Dhruv Sir's arm. But on paper? It’s like she never existed. It’s like she was a ghost."

"What?" I whispered. "What are you saying, Meera? That's impossible. If you all saw her, she was a human being, not a hallucination."

This makes no sense, I thought, my mind racing. Suhana told me explicitly that Tara was the daughter of a high-profile businessman. You can't just delete a person like that. Unless...

"Meera," I said slowly, testing the waters. "You know who Vikramaditya Singh was, right?"

Meera rolled her eyes. "Of course. Everyone knows him. The 'Steel King'. Dhananjay Sir's biggest rival. He's currently rotting in Tihar Jail for fraud."

"Right," I nodded. "Does he... does he have an heir? Or maybe a daughter?"

Meera frowned, confused by the sudden detour. "Vikramaditya? No, Ma'am. He has no children. He was famous for being a bachelor who was married to his ego. No heir, no daughter. That’s why his company collapsed the moment he was arrested."

I froze.

"Are you sure?" I pressed. "Absolutely sure he doesn't have a daughter?"

"Positive," Meera said confidently. "It was all over the news when his empire fell. 'The King with no Crown Prince.' Why?"

I sat back in the chair, my head spinning.

Suhana lied.

Or... Suhana doesn't know the truth either.

Suhana had been so sure. She had laughed about it. "Tara Singh. His daughter."

But if the world thinks Vikramaditya has no children, then who the hell was Tara? Was she an illegitimate child? Or was Suhana feeding me a fake story to keep me entertained?

This family, I thought, rubbing my forehead. It’s not just a soap opera. It’s a crime thriller.

"Okay," I exhaled, trying to keep my composure. "Forget Vikramaditya. Tell me about Dhruv's father. Dhananjay Rathore."

Meera hesitated. She looked around the cafe again. "DJ Sir? Why do you want to know about him? If you want to know his history, you can just ask Dhruv Sir."

Yeah, right, I thought bitterly. 'Hey Dhruv, pass the salt and tell me about the father you never talk about.' He would literally kill me.

"I am paying you not to ask questions, Meera," I reminded her, tapping the table. "Just answer. What is their relationship like?"

Meera sighed, leaning in. "Well... DJ Sir is a very intelligent businessman. A visionary. He built this empire from—"

"I know the LinkedIn profile, Meera," I cut her off impatiently. "I want the real stuff. The stuff they don't put in the brochures. How is his bonding with Dhruv?"

Meera grimaced. "Bonding? Ma'am, they don't bond. They tolerate each other."

She lowered her voice to a whisper. "They barely speak. DJ Sir is... difficult. He is very angry right now because Arav Sir—your brother-in-law—isn't exactly... 'shark material'. He couldn't handle the pressure of the main branch. So DJ Sir had to hand the Mumbai headquarters to Dhruv Sir until he comes back from Singapore."

"Singapore?"

"He lives there mostly," Meera explained. "Expanding the Asian market. Or so he says."

She glanced at the door, then leaned so close across the table I could smell her mint gum.

"And... I don't know if it's true, Ma'am. But there are rumors. Dark ones."

"What rumors?" I asked, a chill running down my spine. Rumors about Dhruv? Or his mother?

"About DJ Sir's mental state," Meera whispered. "People say he is... unstable. Like, he can go to any length for power. Even... eliminating people."

I blinked. "Eliminating?"

"They say he killed his own father," Meera dropped the bomb.

My jaw dropped. "What?"

"Mr. Yuvaraj Rathore," she said, her eyes wide. "The founder. The day he died... it was sudden. Heart attack, they said. But the very next day, Dhananjay Sir claimed the whole empire. He didn't mourn. He didn't cry. He just... took over. He threw his own brothers out of the company."

Meera shuddered. "It was all over the news back then, but DJ Sir dismissed it as corporate jealousy. But personally? I’ve seen him in meetings. He destroys enemies for sport. Killing his own father... well, in this family, is anything impossible?"

I stared at her, stunned into silence.

So the grandfather dies suspiciously. The father is a rumored murderer. The brother is incompetent. And Dhruv...

God, no wonder Dhruv is messed up. He was raised in a graveyard.

"Tell me you're lying," I whispered.

"I wish I was," Meera shrugged. "But look at Dhruv Sir. He learned ruthlessness from somewhere, right?"

I swallowed hard. The image of the little boy in the garden flashed in my mind again. He wasn't just lonely. He was surviving in a tank full of predators.

I needed to ask the final question. The one Suhana had confirmed, but I needed to hear it from someone else.

"Meera," I said softly. "Do you know that..."

I hesitated, then forced the words out.

"Do you know that Dhruv is not Rohini Mom's real son?"

Meera didn't look shocked. She didn't gasp. She just nodded as if I had asked if the sky was blue.

"Oh, that?" she said casually. "Yeah. Everyone knows that, Ma'am."

"How the hell do you know?" I hissed. "Suhana made it sound like a state secret!"

"It's an 'open secret'," Meera explained, picking up a croissant finally. "No one talks about it to his face because they are terrified of him. But the staff knows. The board knows. It’s obvious. Rohini Ma'am treats him like an employee, not a son."

She took a bite, chewing thoughtfully. "It’s sad, actually. He built this company to double its value, but to them? He’s still just the 'extra'. The spare."

I sat back, feeling a wave of nausea.

Everyone knows, I thought, my heart aching. The whole world knows he is unwanted. He walks into a room and everyone sees the 'Bastard Son'.

And here I was, thinking he was just arrogant. He wasn't arrogant. He was armored.

"I think I am full," I muttered, pushing my untouched coffee away. "This family... it's too much."

"Tell me about it," Meera mumbled with her mouth full. "Why do you think the salary is so high? Hazard pay."

I stood up. "I'm going to wash my hands."

I walked to the restroom, my legs feeling heavy. I looked at myself in the mirror.

My beige dress looked perfect. My hair was neat. I looked like the confident wife of a billionaire.

But inside? I was terrified.

I had married into a family of liars, and rumored murderers. And the man I was starting to care for—the man who kissed me on the terrace—was the most damaged of them all.

***************************************

I watched Meera finish her croissant, wiping the crumbs from her mouth. She looked satisfied. She had a secret mission and a promise of triple salary. I had a spy.

"Listen to me, Meera," I said, leaning across the café table, dropping my voice. "Keep everything secret. Do not tell anyone about this conversation. Forget everything I said yesterday. We are besties from now on, right?"

Meera blinked, then nodded vigorously. "Besties. Got it, Ma'am."

"I mean, we are girls," I added with a sugary, conspiratorial smile. "We shouldn't fight over men. We should stick together."

I stood up, adjusting my beige dress. I leaned down, my smile turning sharp, my eyes narrowing just a fraction.

"But stay away from Dhruv," I whispered.

Meera gulped. "Understood."

I turned on my heel and walked out of the café.

Location: CEO’s Cabin Time: 10:00 AM

The walk back to the office felt longer than the drive. My head was buzzing with the secrets Meera had spilled—the murder rumors, the illegitimacy, the hatred.

I pushed open the heavy double doors of Dhruv’s cabin, expecting to find him buried in files, ignoring the world.

He wasn't working.

Dhruv was sitting in his massive leather chair, swiveled around to face the door. He wasn't looking at a screen. He was looking right at me.

His elbows were resting on the armrests, fingers steepled together under his chin. A slow, chilling smile played on his lips. It wasn't a warm smile. It was the smile of a predator who had been waiting for the prey to wander back into the trap.

He stood up slowly.

He didn't say a word. He walked around the desk, his strides long and silent. He walked past me to the door.

Click.

He locked it.

My heart hammered against my ribs.

"Welcome, Detective Katha," Dhruv’s voice was smooth, low, and laced with dangerous amusement. "I hope your interrogation was good."

I froze. "I... I don't know what you mean."

"You are weird, Katha," he murmured, taking a step toward me. "I read all your medical reports on the first day, didn't I? Anemia. Malnutrition. But I didn't know you also have a mental problem?"

I frowned, taking a step back. "Excuse me?"

"How are you like this?" He tilted his head, studying me like a lab specimen. "Oh God, I can't understand you. What were you talking to Meera about? You were literally fighting with her yesterday, hissing like a cat. And today you are buying her breakfast? Why the sudden change?"

I flinched under his intense gaze. My back hit the wall. There was nowhere left to go.

"Uhh..." I stammered, my mind racing for a lie. "Well... I thought that... umm... I should make good relations with her. Like, she is so smart, right? And she is an old employee of Our Company..."

"Let me correct you, Katha," Dhruv cut me off, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper. "My Company. Not ours."

He stepped closer, towering over me.

"You are only here for a year," he reminded me brutally. "Don't get comfortable."

The insult stung. It reminded me of my place. But it also reminded me of what I had just learned—that he was the one who didn't really belong.

I took a deep breath, looking him dead in the eye.

"Let me also remind you, Mr. Rathore," I said, my voice steady despite the fear fluttering in my belly. "It is your Father's Company. Also not yours."

Dhruv went still.

The air in the room evaporated.

I saw the pupil of his eyes dilate. I had hit the nerve. I had reminded the illegitimate son that he was just managing the empire for the "real" Rathores.

He moved.

It was a blur. One second he was standing in front of me, the next he was pressing me into the wall.

He slammed his hands on the wall on either side of my head, caging me in. The sound echoed in the silent room.

I gasped, looking up. He was so close. His chest was heaving slightly. His scent—musk, coffee, and raw anger—enveloped me.

"Just answer me," Dhruv growled, leaning down until our noses almost touched. "What were you talking to her about? Planning something against me? Taking revenge for yesterday?"

His eyes searched mine, frantic and furious.

"Were you plotting to mix poison in my coffee, huh?"

"Why would I do that?" I whispered, my voice shaking. "I mean... I know I hate you. But I am not like that."

"Then what?" he demanded. "I need to know everything."

"Dhruv, leave me," I tried to push his chest, but he was like a rock. "I can go anywhere. It's my choice. You can't control me."

"I can, Katha," he rasped.

He shifted his weight, pressing his hips against mine, pinning me to the wall with his body. The contact sent a jolt of electricity straight to my core.

"Because you are mine," he whispered, the possessiveness dripping from every word. "And I decide where you go. I decide whom you talk to."

"Umm... no," I breathed, my resolve melting under his heat. "No, you can't."

Dhruv leaned in closer. A dark, arrogant smirk curved his lips.

"Oh really?"

He moved his right hand from the wall. He didn't pull away. He brought his hand to my face.

He cupped my cheek. His palm was warm, rough, and demanding. His thumb brushed against my cheekbone, dragging slowly down to the corner of my mouth. It wasn't a gentle caress. It was a claim.

"Leave it," he murmured, his eyes dropping to my lips. "Just give me answers. And don't think that I won't know if you lie to me."

"You don't know me," I whispered, barely able to speak.

"I know enough," he replied softly.

His thumb rubbed against my bottom lip, tugging it down slightly. The sensation was maddening. I felt my knees go weak. I should push him. I should slap him.

But I stood there, trembling, trapped in his cage, waiting for him to do something reckless.

"Be a good girl, Katha," Dhruv whispered, his breath hot against my mouth. "Because I won't be a good husband if you try to involve yourself in my life too much."

He leaned closer, his lips brushing against mine as he spoke, teasing, taunting.

"And trust me," he growled low in his throat. "You don't want to see what happens when I stop being good."