chapter 3

The basement beneath Rathore Industries was nothing like the polished floors above it. Down here, the air was colder, heavier, holding the weight of secrets that never reached daylight. Concrete walls. A single yellow bulb. Silence broken only by the sound of a man's uneven breathing.

Adam sat tied to a metal chair in the center of the room. Sweat dripped from his forehead, his eyes swollen with fear. Two security men stood beside him, arms crossed, unmoving as statues. They had been questioning him for hours-but that was nothing compared to what was coming.

When the metal door at the top of the stairs clicked open, everyone turned.

Ivan Rathore descended the steps slowly, each step echoing with authority. His presence alone shifted the temperature in the room. One of the guards immediately brought a chair and placed it opposite Adam.

Ivan sat down, posture calm, eyes unreadable.

"Tell me, Adam," he said softly, almost conversationally, "did you really think I wouldn't find out?"

Adam's throat bobbed. "Mr... Mr. Rathore, I-"

"You sold our company's secrets to our rival," Ivan continued, voice turning razor-sharp. "And you thought I would never know?"

Adam's breath trembled. "I-I did it for my family."

Ivan laughed once. Cold. Disbelieving. "Your family?"

Adam's eyes darted to the guards. "Please, sir. I needed money. My wife, my daughter-"

Ivan leaned forward, anger flickering beneath the surface.

"I know everything about you, Adam. Every detail."

Adam froze.

"You never cared about your family," Ivan said quietly. "For you, your wife and daughter are tools. Nothing else."

His voice lowered, dangerous. "Your daughter is fourteen... and you were waiting for her to turn sixteen so you could sell her to one of our 'partners.'"

Adam's eyes widened-not in guilt, but in exposure.

A sick smile crept onto his lips. "So what? Women are tools. They are for use. For pleasure. That's their value."

Nitika, standing by the wall with a tablet, gasped. She covered her mouth, horrified.

Ivan's expression shattered into fury.

"You are wrong," he said, voice trembling with anger he rarely showed. "Women are goodness. They are strength. They are the reason this world has any humanity left."

Adam sneered. "Says the king who has a new woman every night?"

Ivan's eyes darkened-but before he could respond, another voice cut in.

"Wait."

Kabir stepped out from the shadows, sleeves rolled up, eyes gleaming with a mixture of mischief and menace.

"Ivan," he said, stretching his neck with a crack, "I haven't... practiced my skills in a long time."

He grinned. "And today, I feel like I've been given a gift."

Adam's face drained of color.

"No. No-keep him away from me. He's a psycho!"

Kabir placed a hand dramatically over his heart. "Psycho? How rude. I prefer 'artist.'"

Ivan glanced at Kabir. "Don't make a mess."

Kabir smirked. "I won't. I promise."

Then he moved toward Adam.

Adam screamed, shaking in the chair. "No-NO! Stay away from me-"

Kabir cracked his knuckles. "Look at that, Ivan. He's already ruined the suspense."

"Kabir," Ivan said calmly, folding his arms, "start your work."

Kabir turned slowly, savoring the moment. "With pleasure."

As Kabir leaned toward Adam, the tension snapped like a wire. Nitika's breath hitched. She clutched the wall for support-the sight of Kabir's cold confidence was enough to make her dizzy.

When Kabir finally began, she let out a soft, frightened sound and staggered backward. Her knees buckled, and she nearly fainted.

Ivan caught her arm before she collapsed.

"Leave," he told her gently, guiding her toward the stairs. "This is not for you to witness."

Her voice was barely a whisper. "Sir... this is too much."

Ivan looked toward Adam-toward the betrayal that nearly burned his empire.

His jaw set.

"Betrayal has a price, Nitika," he said quietly.

"And today... he pays it."

The basement door closed behind her as her footsteps faded.

And below, the truth continued.

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