1

The rain had been falling since morning, turning the narrow streets of Mumbai into blurred reflections of headlights and broken dreams.

Mira Sharma stood outside the small apartment building where she had lived all her life, holding a folder of documents so tightly that the edges had begun to bend. She was nineteen, a second-year university student, and until a week ago her biggest worry had been passing her semester exams.

Now she was trying to understand why strangers kept asking for her father.

Her father had died seven days earlier from a sudden heart attack.

The funeral had barely ended before the phone calls started. Banks. Lawyers. Men who refused to give their names. They all asked the same question.

“Where is the money?”

Mira had no answer.

Inside the apartment, the silence felt heavier than grief. Her mother sat in the corner of the living room, staring blankly at a photograph of her husband. The curtains remained closed, and the smell of incense still lingered in the air.

A knock echoed through the room.

Mira opened the door and found a middle-aged lawyer standing outside.

“Miss Sharma?” he asked gently.

“Yes.”

“I’m Rajeev Mehta. I handled some legal matters for your father.”

She stepped aside and let him in.

He placed a thick file on the table and removed his glasses.

“I’m afraid your father was involved in financial dealings that were never disclosed to your family.”

Mira frowned.

“What kind of dealings?”

“He borrowed a large amount of money.”

“How much?”

The lawyer hesitated.

“More than your apartment is worth.”

Mira looked at her mother, who still hadn’t reacted.

“There has to be a mistake,” Mira whispered.

“I wish there were.”

“Who lent him the money?”

The lawyer looked unusually nervous.

“Aarav Malhotra.”

The room fell completely silent.

Mira had heard that name before.

Everyone had.

Some called him a businessman. Others called him a criminal. Most people simply lowered their voices when they spoke about him.

“He can’t do anything to us,” Mira said, trying to sound stronger than she felt.

“The debt is legally documented.”

“My father would never borrow money from someone like him.”

The lawyer opened the file and slid several papers across the table.

Loan agreements.

Bank transfers.

Signatures.

Mira recognized her father’s handwriting immediately.

She felt the ground disappear beneath her feet.

“What does he want?” she asked quietly.

“He has requested a meeting.”

“I’m not going.”

The lawyer sighed.

“Miss Sharma, refusing him may create more problems.”

“I don’t care.”

“I think you should.”

Before she could answer, another knock came at the door.

This one was harder.

Slower.

More deliberate.

Mira opened it.

Three men in black suits stood outside.

The tallest one spoke politely.

“Miss Mira Sharma?”

“Yes.”

“Mr. Malhotra has sent us.”

“I’m not interested.”

“That wasn’t a request.”

“I said I’m not going.”

The man looked at her calmly.

“We can wait.”

Her neighbors had already begun peeking through half-open doors.

Mira’s cheeks burned with embarrassment.

She turned back toward her mother.

“I’ll be back soon.”

Her mother finally looked up, fear visible in her tired eyes.

“Mira…”

“It’s okay.”

It was not okay.

The black SUV drove through the city without music, without conversation, and without explanation. Rain struck the windows in a steady rhythm while Mira watched familiar streets slowly disappear.

Forty minutes later, the car stopped in front of a massive mansion overlooking the sea.

The gates opened automatically.

Security guards stood at every entrance.

Everything about the place felt expensive and cold.

She was escorted inside.

The marble floors reflected the chandeliers above, and every sound echoed through the enormous hallway.

A man opened a large wooden door.

“Go in.”

Mira stepped inside.

The office was spacious, lined with bookshelves and dark wooden furniture. A floor-to-ceiling window overlooked the ocean.

Someone stood near the window with his back turned.

He was tall, broad-shouldered, and dressed in a black shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms.

Without turning around, he spoke.

“You’re late.”

“I wasn’t invited.”

He turned.

Aarav Malhotra looked exactly like the rumors described him.

Sharp features.

Dark eyes.

A calm expression that was somehow more intimidating than anger.

He studied her for several seconds before walking to the desk.

“Sit.”

“I’d rather stand.”

“I wasn’t asking.”

“I know.”

For the first time, a faint flicker of irritation crossed his face.

“You have your father’s stubbornness.”

“I hope not.”

He opened a file.

“Your father owed me money.”

“I’ve seen the papers.”

“Good.”

“I’m not responsible for his decisions.”

“No. But you inherited his problems.”

Mira crossed her arms.

“What do you want from me?”

“The truth.”

“I don’t know anything.”

“He worked for one of my companies.”

“I know.”

“He transferred money without authorization.”

“You’re lying.”

Aarav slid photographs and financial records across the desk.

“These accounts received funds over several years.”

Mira looked down.

The documents were real.

Her father’s name was everywhere.

“He wouldn’t steal.”

“He did.”

“You don’t know him.”

“I knew him better than you think.”

Her eyes filled with tears, but she refused to let them fall.

“You’re using his death against us.”

“I’m dealing with the consequences of his actions.”

“You’re a monster.”

The room became very quiet.

Aarav leaned back in his chair.

“People have called me worse.”

“I hate you.”

“That doesn’t change the numbers.”

“You have everything. Why ruin the lives of two women who have nothing?”

His expression remained unreadable.

“This isn’t about revenge.”

“Then what is it about?”

He looked at her for a long moment.

“Finding out whether you’re involved.”

Mira stared at him in disbelief.

“You think I helped my father steal from you?”

“I think I don’t know you.”

She stepped closer to the desk.

“Listen carefully, Mr. Malhotra. I may be poor, but I’m not a thief.”

He held her gaze.

“That remains to be seen.”

She turned and walked toward the door.

“No one dismisses me,” he said coldly.

She stopped but didn’t look back.

“I’m leaving.”

“You’ll come back.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

Mira finally turned.

“I never want to see you again.”

She opened the door and walked out without waiting for permission.

The guards watched her leave, but no one stopped her.

From the window, Aarav watched the black SUV drive her away.

One of his men entered the office.

“Should we continue investigating her?”

“Yes.”

“Do you think she knows anything?”

Aarav remained silent for a moment.

“No.”

“Then why bring her here?”

His eyes stayed fixed on the rain outside.

“Because if her father betrayed me, I wanted to know what kind of person he left behind.”

“And?”

Aarav answered quietly.

“She’s dangerous.”

His man looked confused.

“She’s just a student.”

Aarav closed the file.

“No,” he said. “She’s the first person in years who looked at me without fear.”

Neither of them realized that this meeting was not an ending.

It was the beginning of a war between two people who would spend years trying to destroy each other before they ever learned how to love.

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***