Chapter 5: Whispers in the Glass Room

The chaotic murmur of the ballroom faded as Rohan guided me through a secluded set of double doors near the back of the venue. The heavy mahogany shut behind us, cutting off the orchestra’s music and leaving only the quiet hum of central air conditioning and the rhythmic click of my heels against marble.

We walked into a private VIP display lounge—a dimly lit gallery surrounded by bulletproof glass cases holding multi-million-dollar diamonds and rubies.

"Rohan, wait," I said, pulling back slightly to break the touch of his hand. My chest was heaving under the silk of my dress. "You can't just throw hints like that and expect me to follow blindly. If your father knows something about my mother, I need to confront him now!"

Rohan turned around slowly, slipping both hands into his trousers pockets. In the soft, warm lighting of the gallery, the sharp contours of his face looked sculpted out of stone.

"Confront him?" Rohan’s voice was dangerously calm. "Jawaher, my father isn't a kindergarten bully you can reason with. He controls half the gem trade in Southeast Asia. If you walk up to him with fire in your eyes, he won't give you answers—he'll eliminate the threat."

"I am not afraid of him!" I snapped, though my voice betrayed a slight tremble.

"Then you are a fool," he replied coldly, taking two deliberate steps toward me until his shadow engulfed mine. "Fear is what keeps you alive in this world. My father froze out there because he saw a ghost. You look so much like your mother that for a second, he thought the past had come back to drag him to hell."

I took a sharp breath, looking up into his intense hazel eyes. "Did he do it, Rohan? Tell me the truth. Is your father responsible for her disappearance?"

Rohan went silent. A muscle flexed in his jaw, and for a fleeting second, I saw a flash of genuine pain cross his features before his unreadable mask slammed back into place.

"Sixteen years ago," Rohan spoke, his tone dropped to a low, husky register, "my father and your grandfather ended their partnership in a bloody corporate war. The same week the contracts were dissolved, your mother vanished. No body. No note. Just a cold trail and a chest full of stolen emeralds."

He gestured to the necklace resting at my collarbone.

"The *Lost Lotus* necklace you are wearing right now... was supposed to be in my father's safe. It was the centerpiece of their final deal. The fact that your mother had it means she didn't just leave—she took the most dangerous piece on the board with her."

My hands instinctively flew to the heavy green stone against my chest. "She was protecting it... she was protecting *me*."

"Or she was playing a game of her own," Rohan countered softly.

Before I could argue, the sound of heavy footsteps echoed outside the glass gallery. Shadows shifted near the frosted windows of the double doors.

Rohan instantly reacted. In one swift, fluid motion, he grabbed my wrist and pulled me into an alcove tucked behind a massive velvet curtain shielding a private display case.

"Not a sound," he whispered against my ear, his arm wrapping firmly around my waist to hold me flush against his chest.

My heart hammered so violently I was sure he could feel it through his suit jacket. Wrapped in his warmth, surrounded by the scent of his cedarwood cologne, every nerve ending in my body flared to life.

The gallery doors opened.

Through a narrow gap in the velvet curtain, I saw Arthur De-Silva enter, leaning heavily on his cane. Accompanying him was his head of security—a burly man with a scarred jaw—and... my uncle Vikram.

"Are you out of your mind, Arthur?" Vikram hissed, keeping his voice strictly contained. "You said the girl was raised in poverty, completely ignorant! How does she have the *Lost Lotus*?!"

Arthur’s voice was raspier than I remembered, laced with age and venom. "Quiet, Vikram. Someone tipped her off. Someone gave her the sandalwood key."

"It had to be Tanam," Vikram gritted out. "That old snake has been loyal to Surya's bloodline till the end. We need to force her to sign the waiver tonight before she attends the board meeting on Monday."

"No," Arthur commanded, raising his cane to silence Vikram. "If she dies or disappears right now, the police and the press will look at us. Surya set up a dead-man's switch with the Central Bank. If Jawaher doesn't claim the vault in three days, the contents of her mother's diary will be released to the international press."

My breath caught in my throat. *My mother's diary?*

"Then what do we do?" Vikram asked, his voice laced with panic.

"We let the girl think she's winning," Arthur said coldly, a sinister grin spreading across his wrinkled face. "Let Rohan play his little chivalry game. He thinks he’s being clever by acting as her guardian, but he has no idea what his father is truly capable of. Once she opens that bank vault... we take the contents, and dispose of the heiress."

Arthur turned on his heel and walked out, Vikram trailing behind him like a obedient shadow.

The heavy doors clicked shut, leaving the gallery in dead silence once more.

Behind the curtain, Rohan didn't move immediately. His grip around my waist remained tight, his chest rising and falling in slow, controlled breaths against my back.

"They want to kill me," I whispered into the dark, my voice barely a thread. "Just like they did to her."

Rohan slowly turned me around in his arms so I was forced to face him. He reached up, his thumb gently wiping away a stray tear that had escaped down my cheek. His touch was surprisingly soft, completely contradicting the lethal aura he usually carried.

"They won't touch a hair on your head, Jawaher," Rohan murmured, his hazel eyes burning with a dark, fierce promise that made my pulse jump. "I won't let them."

"Why?" I asked, looking up at him through trembling lashes. "Your own father is plotting against me. Why are you choosing my side?"

Rohan leaned in until his lips were inches from mine, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper that sent shivers straight to my core:

"Because sixteen years ago, I made a promise to the woman who owned that necklace... and I intend to keep it."

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