(Vivaan's POV)
My hands were gripping the steering wheel.
The speed escalating every passing second.
Not because of fear.
Never.
But because of the fact that, someone betrayed me.
The call came at 10:17 PM.
I don't like disturbances at that hour.
Not unless they matter.
I glanced at the screen once before answering.
"Speak."
"Sir… there's a problem."
My jaw tightened slightly.
No one in my company used that tone unless something had already gone wrong.
"What kind of problem?"
A pause.
"Your Gurugram property… Skyline Crest… it's been sold."
Silence.
Not outside.
Inside.
Because for a fraction of a second—just a fraction—my mind went blank.
Then it recalibrated.
Cold. Precise. Fast.
"That's not possible."
"It's registered, sir. Legally transferred this evening."
I stood up slowly, already reaching for my coat.
"Send me the location."
The drive was silent.
My eyes, sharp. Furious.
I gripped the steering wheel tighter, reminiscing the conversation.
HOW?
As soon as I reached, I parked my car in the lawn area. It was a well-known property of mine.
Skyline Crest wasn't just any property.
It was one of my most secure holdings.
Layered authorization.
Multiple locks.
And most importantly—
My approval. My signature. My authority.
When I reached my manager and legal team were already there.
Head hung low.
Avoiding gaze.
uncomfortable.
Worried.
And then there was the owner who purchased it.
Sitting on the sofa casually, as if the property belonged to solely him. It was not HIS, until I checked all the documents.
"Documents?"
No greeting. No wasted time.
The man—new owner—hesitated for a second before handing over the file.
I took it calmly.
Opened it.
Flipped through the pages.
Not rushing.
Because truth doesn't hide.
It reveals itself… if you're patient enough.
Agreement papers.
Transfer clauses.
Payment clearance.
Everything…
Perfect.
Too perfect.
My eyes slowed down at the last page.
The authorization section.
And there it was.
My name. My approval. My authority.
Stamped.
Not signed.
STAMPED.
My fingers paused.
Just for a second.
Then I turned the page back.
Looked again.
Same thing.
The seal.
My seal.
The one kept in my study.
Locked.
Untouched.
Unreachable.
For everyone.
Except—
No.
Not yet.
Think.
"Sir?" my manager spoke carefully. "Is there… an issue?"
I closed the file.
Calmly, but suppressing my anger beneath. Because it was legal, it was real.
"No."
I handed it back.
"Everything looks… valid."
Relief flooded their faces.
Fools.
They didn't understand. The problem wasn't legality. The problem was access.
Because someone didn't forge my authority.
They used it.
The drive back felt longer.
Not because of distance.
Because of thought.
Every possibility lined up in my head.
Employees?
No.
They don't have access.
Managers?
Impossible.
Security?
Locked system.
Family?
…
My fingers tightened slightly on the steering wheel.
Family had access to the house.
But not the study.
Not the seal.
Not without being noticed.
And then—
A new variable entered.
Recent.
Unfamiliar.
Unverified.
Untrusted.
Kruthi.
My wife.
The woman who walked into my life with secrets already wrapped around her.
The same woman who:
exposed Rushaan
had access to the house
stayed alone in my room
moved freely in my space
Too freely.
What if?
I didn't jump to conclusions.
I never do.
But I also don't ignore patterns.
What if this was revenge?
For the forced marriage.
For the control.
For everything I imposed on her.
My grip tightened.
Then relaxed.
Then tightened again.
No.
She didn't look like someone playing that deep.
But appearances?
Irrelevant.
I've seen innocence mask far worse intentions.
By the time I reached the mansion, my decision was made.
No accusations.
Not yet.
Observation first.
Then confrontation.
The hallway was silent.
Lights dim.
Everyone asleep.
Or pretending to be.
I walked straight to the room.
Opened the door without a sound.
She was there.
Sitting on the bed.
Hair slightly messy.
Face bare.
No guards.
No defense.
Just… her.
Her eyes lifted the moment I entered.
A small relief flickered across her face.
"...Aap aa gaye."
That tone.
Soft.
Unaware.
Or pretending to be.
I closed the door behind me.
Slowly.
Locked it.
Her expression changed.
Just slightly.
Confusion.
Caution.
She should be cautious.
I took a few steps forward.
Unhurried.
Measured.
Controlled.
Every step calculated.
"Where were you today?" I asked.
Flat.
She blinked.
"Yahin… room mein. Phir Naina ke saath thodi der—"
"Alone?"
I cut her off.
A pause.
"Yes."
I nodded once.
As if noting something.
Not reacting. Not yet.
My gaze shifted.
To the table.
To the cupboard.
To the door of my study—inside the room.
Closed.
Same as always.
Then back to her.
"Did you enter my study today?"
Silence.
Heavy.
Sharp.
Her brows furrowed.
"No… why would I—"
"Answer carefully."
My voice dropped.
Not louder. Lower.
More dangerous.
Her breath hitched slightly.
"I didn't."
I watched her.
Closely.
Every blink.
Every breath.
Every micro expression.
Fear.
Confusion.
Hurt.
Guilt?
…
Hard to tell.
I stepped closer.
Stopping just a foot away from her.
Close enough to see the tremble she was trying to hide.
"One of my properties was sold today."
I said it calmly.
Like it meant nothing.
Her eyes widened.
"What?"
I didn't break eye contact.
"It was authorized using my seal."
A pause.
"And that seal… is in my study."
Understanding hit her.
Slow. Heavy. Painful.
"No—"
"And you," I continued, voice steady, "are the only new variable in this house."
Silence.
Then—
Something cracked.
"Are you accusing me?"
Her voice wasn't loud.
But it shook.
I didn't answer immediately.
Because truth?
I wasn't sure yet.
"I'm asking," I said finally.
Her eyes glistened.
Not weak.
Not helpless.
Hurt.
Deeply.
"I didn't do anything," she whispered.
And for a fraction of a second—
Just a fraction—
Something inside me hesitated.
But logic over emotion.
Always.
"Good," I said.
Stepping back.
Creating distance again.
Walls back in place.
"Because if you did…"
A pause.
A look.
Cold.
Final.
"You won't get a second chance to explain."
Silence filled the room.
But this time—
It wasn't peaceful.
It was the beginning of something else.
Doubt.
And doubt…
is far more dangerous than truth.