Rohini's POV

I was sitting by the window, nursing a migraine that refused to leave, when a hesitant knock broke the silence.

Knock. Knock.

I closed my eyes, suppressing a groan. "Who is it?"

"It’s me... Katha."

My eyes snapped open. The street girl. The one Dhruv had dragged in like a stray cat.

I stood up, tightening the sash of my silk robe, and walked to the door. I pulled it open.

She stood there, head bowed low, fingers twisting together nervously. She looked pathetic in that simple white kurti.

"You?" I asked, looking her up and down with open disdain. "What are you doing here?"

"Can I... can I come inside, Ma'am?" she whispered, not meeting my eyes.

"Only if you have something to say," I snapped. "I don't have time for idle chatter. Now tell me, why are you disturbing me?"

"Ma'am," she started, her voice trembling. "I came here to tell you something important. Something... helpful for you."

I raised an eyebrow. "Helpful for me? You are not even from this house. Did Dhruv send you? Is this one of his games?"

"No! No, no," she shook her head frantically. "I am here because... because I am tired of him. He treats me like trash."

I let out a dry, humorless laugh.

"Cause you are trash, darling," I said coldly. "Is this what you came to tell me? A sob story? Please, spare me. You signed the contract, deal with it. Don't waste my precious time."

I moved to close the door.

"It’s about Aarav Bhaiya," she blurted out.

I froze. My hand gripped the door handle.

"What?" I hissed, narrowing my eyes. "What about Aarav? What happened to him?"

Katha looked up. Her eyes were wide and fearful.

"Nothing has happened to him yet, Ma'am," she said quickly. "But... surely something will happen. You know I go to the office with Dhruv, right?"

"So?"

"You know what people say there?" she whispered.

I felt a cold knot form in my stomach. "What do they say?"

Katha took a step closer, lowering her voice as if sharing a dirty secret.

"They say that Aarav Sir is of no use," she said. The words hit me like a slap. "They say the whole Rathore empire will be in the hands of Dhruv. People... people even doubt if Aarav Sir is really DJ Sir’s son because—"

"Shut up!" I screamed.

The rage blinded me for a second. I grabbed her arm and yanked her into the room, slamming the door shut.

"How dare you?" I snarled, shaking her. "How dare you even say that? I will kill you right now!"

Katha flinched, cowering away from me. "Ma'am! Please! You can silence me, but what about the people? What about the workers? The media?"

She pulled her arm back, rubbing the spot where I had grabbed her.

"Think about it, Ma'am," she pleaded, her voice desperate. "Everything is handled by Dhruv Sir. Even if Dhananjay Sir doesn't like him, he still gave him the company to handle. And what about Aarav Sir? Isn't he the elder son? The real son?"

My chest heaved. I walked to my dresser, gripping the edge to steady myself.

She is right.

The thought was a poison I swallowed every day.

"It’s his company, right?" Katha continued, her voice soft but poisonous. "His birthright? So why are you not saying anything about this injustice? Why is the... the other one sitting on the throne?"

"That bastard," I whispered, staring at my reflection. My face was twisted with hate. "He took everything. His mother took my husband... and now he is taking my son's rights."

I turned to Katha. "But I can't do anything. Dhananjay has said Dhruv handles the Mumbai branch. His word is law."

"You can do something, Ma'am," Katha stepped forward. "You are still the matriarch of this family. And Dhananjay Sir? He isn't even here right now."

I looked at her. For a simple girl, she had a devious mind.

"You don't need to remove Dhruv permanently," she suggested, her eyes gleaming with calculation. "Even if you take Dhruv out of the picture for one or two weeks... it’s enough. It’s enough to prove Aarav Sir's capability. If Dhruv is gone, Aarav Sir has to step up. He can show the board he can handle the company."

I considered it. A week without Dhruv casting his shadow over my son. A week for Aarav to shine.

"You can send Dhruv Sir somewhere," Katha urged. "Order him to stay away for some days. Can't you?"

"I don't talk to him," I said stiffly, crossing my arms. "And I don't want to talk to him. Never."

"But you have to," she countered. "Even in our worst times, we have to act like a friend to an enemy. It’s for your son, Ma'am. For the real Rathore."

For Aarav.

"But how can I send him away like that?" I asked, feeling a headache throb again. "And where?"

"Goa," Katha said instantly.

I blinked. "Goa?"

"Yes," she nodded. "Ma'am... ahh... you just have to act like a mother to him. Just for five minutes."

"Never," I spat. The bile rose in my throat. "I will never talk to him like that. Calling him my son? It will never happen. I will die before I give him that satisfaction."

"But it’s just an act!" Katha pressed, walking closer. "You don't have to really mean it. Calling him 'son' doesn't make him a real son. Everyone knows he is... not."

She looked at me with what looked like genuine sympathy.

"I wanted to tell you this because I was feeling so bad after knowing about you," she said softly.

My eyes narrowed. "Who told you all this? Suhana?"

"Y... Yes," she admitted.

"Oh God, this woman," I muttered, rolling my eyes. "She has a mouth like a drain."

"Ma'am," Katha interrupted. "I even have a place in Goa. You can tell him... 'Dhruv, take my daughter-in-law to Goa.' He listens to you.

I stared at her. She was observant.

"Why Goa?" I asked suspiciously. "And why do you want to go with him?"

"To check on him, Ma'am," she said quickly. "To make sure he stays away and doesn't interfere with Aarav Sir’s work."

I studied her face. She looked too eager. Too involved.

"What will you get by all this?" I asked, stepping closer to her. "I am sure you have some motive. You don't strike me as the 'charity' type."

Katha’s innocent mask slipped. A slow, greedy smile curled her lips.

"Yes," she admitted, shrugging. "I have a motive. I want to live a rich life, Ma'am."

She looked around my room, eyeing the gold vase and the silk curtains with hunger.

"I was born in poverty," she said, her voice dropping. "But after seeing all this... I have a desire to live a good life too. Dhruv is stingy. He watches my every move. But if I help you? If I help you destroy your biggest enemy..."

She looked me dead in the eye.

"Will I get money?"

I smiled.

Finally. The truth.

She wasn't a saint. She wasn't a savior. She was just a greedy little opportunist who wanted to secure her bag.

This, I understood. This, I could work with.

"You are smarter than you look," I said, a cruel satisfaction settling in my chest.

If she wanted to sell Dhruv out for cash, I was more than happy to be the buyer. And if getting Dhruv out of the city meant Aarav could finally take the CEO chair... it was a small price to pay.

"If you actually make Dhruv get out of this house and our life for a week," I promised, my voice smooth as silk, "I will shower money on you."

I walked to my jewelry box and pulled out a thick wad of cash I kept for emergencies. I tossed it at her. It hit her chest and fell to the floor.

"Consider that a down payment," I sneered.

Katha scrambled to pick it up, clutching it like it was oxygen.

"So," I said, watching her greed with amusement. "From now on, you are my weapon to destroy Dhruv. Do we have a deal?"

Katha stood up, clutching the money. She smiled.

"Deal, Ma'am."

I turned back to the window.

"Send him to me," I commanded. "I will put on the performance of a lifetime."

Katha's Pov

I walked out of Rohini’s room, clutching the wad of cash in my fist like it was a burning coal.

My heart was beating in a erratic, painful rhythm. I felt dirty. I felt like a traitor.

I looked at the closed door behind me. I had just sold my husband to his enemy. I had painted myself as a gold-digger to the woman who hated him, just to manipulate him into doing the one thing that might heal him.

"I'm sorry, Dhruv," I whispered to the empty corridor, tucking the money into the pocket of my kurti. "I had to do it. You won't go back there for yourself... so you have to go for her."

I took a deep breath, composing my face into a mask of innocence.

I found Dhruv in the living room. He was sitting on the sofa, laptop open, aggressively typing an email. He looked up as I approached, his eyes instantly scanning my face for any sign of distress.

"Where were you?" he asked, his tone sharp but protective.

"I... I was just walking around," I lied.

I stood in front of him, wringing my hands. "Dhruv... Rohini Mom wants to see you."

Dhruv’s fingers stopped moving on the keyboard. He went perfectly still.

He looked at me, confusion knitting his brows. "What?"

"She called you," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "To her room. She said she wants to talk to you about something."

Dhruv closed his laptop slowly. The air around him shifted. The confident CEO vanished, replaced by a wary, tense son.

"She never calls me," he muttered, more to himself than to me. "She threw a glass at me last night."

"Maybe... maybe she wants to apologize?" I suggested softly.

Dhruv let out a dark, cynical scoff. "Rohini Rathore doesn't apologize, Katha. Especially not to me."

But he stood up.

He buttoned his suit jacket, checking his reflection in the dark screen of the TV. He straightened his tie. He ran a hand through his hair.

He was nervous.

It broke my heart to watch. He was a billionaire, a titan of industry, yet one summon from the woman who despised him had him checking his appearance like a schoolboy hoping for approval.

"I'll be back," he said stiffly.

He walked past me. He didn't see the guilt in my eyes. He only saw the glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, his mother finally wanted him.

Dhruv's POV

The walk to her room felt like a march to the gallows.

I stood in front of the mahogany door, my hand hovering over the wood. Last night, she had looked at me with pure hatred. She had said I was a living sin. Why would she want to see me now?

Maybe it's about business, I told myself, armoring my heart. Maybe Dhananjay called her.

I knocked.

"Come in."

Her voice was calm. Not screechy, not angry. Just calm.

I pushed the door open and stepped inside.

Rohini was sitting on her chaise lounge near the window. She wasn't holding a headache pill. She was holding a cup of tea. She looked up at me.

She didn't glare. She didn't grimace.

She gestured to the chair opposite her.

"Sit, Dhruv."

I froze. She hadn't asked me to sit in this room in... I couldn't remember. Years?

I walked over stiffly and sat on the edge of the chair, keeping my back rigid. "You called for me?"

"Yes," she sighed, placing her cup down. She looked at me—really looked at me—without the usual venom. "I was thinking about last night."

I tensed, ready for the insults.

"I was... harsh," she said.

My eyes widened. I stared at her, stunned into silence.

"I have been watching you," she continued, looking out the window. "You work too hard. You handle the company, the investors, the chaos dad left behind. And now... this marriage."

She turned her gaze back to me. Her eyes were unreadable.

"You look tired, Dhruv."

The words were simple, but they hit me in the chest. No one ever told me I looked tired. They only asked for results.

"I am fine," I managed to say, my voice tight. "The company requires—"

"The company can wait," she interrupted. "You cannot run on empty forever. It reflects badly on the family if the CEO collapses from exhaustion."

She smoothed her silk robe.

"I want you to take a break."

"A break?" I frowned. "I don't take breaks."

"You do now," she stated firmly. "You have a new wife. The media is talking. They say it’s a sham marriage because you haven't been seen anywhere together except the office. We need good PR."

She leaned forward slightly.

"Take Katha and go away for a week. A honeymoon. A vacation. Whatever you want to call it."

I hesitated. A vacation? With Katha?

"I... I can take her to Alibaug," I suggested, thinking of the compromise I was willing to make. "Or maybe London."

"No," Rohini said sharply. "Not London. Too busy. Not Alibaug. Too close."

She looked me dead in the eye.

"Go to Goa."

The air left the room.

My hands clenched on my knees. The sound of the ocean roared in my ears. The yellow house. The waving hand.

"No," I whispered. "Not Goa."

"Why not?" she pressed, her voice gaining a hard edge. "It’s beautiful. We have a property there that hasn't been used in years. It needs inspection. And it’s private."

"I don't go to Goa," I said, my voice rising. "You know why."

"Because of the past?" she scoffed lightly. "Dhruv, you are a grown man. You run an empire. Are you still scared of a childhood memory?"

She stood up and walked over to me. She stopped right in front of my chair.

"If you want to prove you are a true Rathore," she said softly, leaning down, "you face things. You don't run from them."

She put a hand on my shoulder.

I stopped breathing. She was touching me. Not to hit me. Not to push me away.

"Do this for me," she said.

The words were a trap. I knew they were a trap. But I was starving, and she was holding out bread.

"Do this for the family image," she continued. "Go there. Stay for a week. Show the world you are happy. If you do this... I will believe you are finally handling your responsibilities like a son."

Like a son.

The resistance in my chest crumbled.

I hated Goa. I hated the memories. I was terrified of what I would find there.

But I was more terrified of losing this tiny, fragile moment where she was looking at me without hate.

I looked at her hand on my shoulder. I looked at her expectant face.

"Okay," I rasped, my throat dry.

"Okay?" she smiled. It didn't reach her eyes, but it was a smile.

"I will go," I said, standing up. "I will take her to Goa."

"Good," she patted my shoulder once, then pulled away quickly, as if she had touched something slimy. "Leave tomorrow. Take the private jet. I don't want you here for a week."

She turned her back on me. "You can go now."

I walked to the door, my mind spinning.

I was going back. I was going back to the place where I lost everything.

But as I stepped into the hallway, a twisted sense of accomplishment settled in my gut.

I was going to hell. But at least my mother had sent me there herself.