The sun began to bleed over the Mumbai skyline, turning the glass towers into pillars of fire. Inside the design studio, the air was still heavy with the scent of whiskey and raw, frantic sweat.
Myra scrambled to straighten her dress, her hands trembling so hard she could barely pull up her zipper. Reyansh was already composed, buttoning his shirt and tightening his tie as if he hadn't spent the last hour ruthlessly claiming her on a drafting table.
"You have thirty minutes before the cleaning crew arrives," Reyansh said, his voice back to that clinical, cold CEO tone. "Finish the drafts. I'll be in my office."
He didn't look back. He walked out, leaving Myra to pick up the pieces of her dignity. She spent the next twenty minutes in a feverish blur, redrawing the lines Shanaya had demanded, her mind hazy from the lack of sleep and the lingering throb between her legs.
At 8:30 AM, the office began to hum with life. Myra sat at her desk, her back stiff, her eyes fixed on her computer screen. She felt raw, exposed, and utterly exhausted.
"Good morning, everyone!" Sarah's sharp voice cut through the bullpen.
The senior architect was doing her usual rounds, checking desks with a vulture-like precision. Myra kept her head down, praying Sarah would just walk past.
"Myra, dear," Sarah purred, stopping at the edge of the design studio. "You look... tired. Did you actually stay here all night to fix those blueprints? How dedicated."
"I did," Myra replied, not looking up
Sarah began to pace around the large drafting table in the center of the room—the very table where Reyansh had pinned Myra only hours ago. "It's a bit messy in here, isn't it? Pens on the floor... blueprints scattered..."
Sarah bent down to pick up a fallen highlighter, but her hand stopped mid-air. Her eyes narrowed as she looked at the heavy base of the drafting table, tucked into the shadows near the floor.
"What on earth is this?" Sarah reached out, her manicured fingers pulling something from a small gap between the table and the carpet.
Myra's heart stopped. She looked up and felt the blood drain from her face.
Hanging from Sarah's finger was a scrap of black lace. It was delicate, torn at the side, and unmistakably a pair of expensive panties.
The bullpen went silent. Three junior architects leaned over their cubicles to see.
"Well, well," Sarah laughed, a cold, triumphant sound. "It seems someone was doing more than just 'designing' last night. I didn't know the studio was being used for... extracurricular activities."
Sarah turned the lace over, her eyes landing on Myra. She walked over, dropping the black lace onto Myra's keyboard.
"I believe these belong to you, Myra? They match your dress perfectly. I wonder... who was the man lucky enough to help you out of them in a locked building?"
Myra felt like the walls were closing in. Every eye in the office was on her. She looked toward Reyansh's glass office. He was standing there, phone to his ear, looking directly at the scene. He saw the lace. He saw Sarah's smirk.
He didn't move. He didn't blink. He watched her drown in the scandal he had helped create.
Author's Thought
BUSTED! 😱🚨 The secret is out—or at least, the rumors are! Sarah finally has the leverage she's been looking for. How is Myra going to explain this without exposing Reyansh?