chapter 2

The sun had barely risen when Ivan Rathore stepped into his dining room, its floor-to-ceiling windows shimmering with pale gold. The penthouse was quiet, too quiet for a man who had slept barely an hour. His mind was still carrying the weight of another restless night, each thought heavy and sharp.

Ivan sat at the long marble table as Raj, his personal butler of nearly a decade, placed a glass of fresh orange juice beside his plate with practiced care.

"Your juice, sir," Raj said softly.

Ivan nodded without looking up. His thoughts were elsewhere-pulled taut by unease that had settled on his shoulders before dawn.

He lifted his fork, but stopped midair.

Footsteps rushed toward the dining room-quick, unsteady, unmistakably urgent.

Nitika entered, gripping her tablet so tightly her knuckles were white. She was never flustered. Not once in the last three years had she appeared anything but perfectly composed.

But right now, she looked worried.

Deeply worried.

"Ivan," she said, breathless. "You need to see this. It's urgent."

Ivan set the fork down slowly. "What happened?"

Nitika swallowed. "It's better discussed privately. But it's critical. You'll want to address it immediately."

Raj stepped back silently, instincts telling him trouble had just entered the room. Ivan rose, tension coiling beneath his calm expression.

Before he could respond, Kabir walked in, mug of coffee in one hand, phone in the other, still half sleepy but alert enough to catch the atmosphere.

"What's going on here?" Kabir asked, eyes flicking between Ivan and Nitika. "Where are you headed so early?"

"Office," Ivan said, voice flat.

Kabir frowned. "Office? At sunrise? And Nitika looks like she's seen a ghost. Ivan, what-"

"Stay here," Ivan ordered, brushing past him. "I will handle it."

Kabir raised a brow. "You're doing that thing again-giving commands like this place is your private kingdom."

"It is," Ivan said coldly. "And I am not asking for a debate."

Kabir stepped forward, unwilling to back down. "Ivan."

Ivan turned sharply, and for a moment Kabir saw the exhaustion in his eyes-the kind sleepless nights carved into a man.

"Ivan, whatever this is, don't make decisions when you're like this," Kabir said quietly. "At least tell me-"

"I said stay." The words sliced like ice.

A silence fell.

Nitika shifted nervously, glancing between the two men. Ivan exhaled slowly, trying to steady the storm rising in him.

He started toward the elevator.

Raj, concerned but careful, spoke from behind him. "Sir... shall I have the car brought to the main entrance?"

"Yes," Ivan said without pausing. "Now."

Kabir ran a hand through his hair. "Ivan! Just slow down a second-"

Ivan stopped at the elevator door and finally turned back.

"I can tolerate many things," he said, voice low, controlled, dangerous.

The metal doors began to slide open.

"But betrayal is not one of them."

The doors closed.

Nitika stepped in beside him as the elevator began its descent. She kept her voice gentle. "Sir... I wasn't sure if I should interrupt your breakfast, but-"

"You did right," Ivan said, eyes fixed forward.

His reflection in the steel looked like a man standing on the edge of war.

Someone had crossed a line.

And Ivan Rathore was about to find out who.

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