The grand chandelier above still cast golden light over the polished floors. The faint scent of sandalwood and jasmine lingered in the hallways. But beneath all that elegance, the house reeked of betrayal.
She had spent her childhood in these walls, once believing it was home.
But homes weren't supposed to kill mothers and banish daughters.
She wasn't here for nostalgia. She was here to tear it apart.
"You should have stayed wherever you were."
Anaya turned to see Avni standing at the foot of the staircase, arms crossed. Her emerald-green dress shimmered under the chandelier's glow, but her expression was pure ice.
Anaya smiled. "Missed me already?"
Avni's jaw tightened. "I don't know why you're back, but don't think you can just waltz in and take what isn't yours."
"Isn't mine?" Anaya tilted her head, stepping closer. "That's funny. Last I checked, Kapoor Industries was built by my mother and father. Not you. Not your mother."
A flicker of something—fear?—flashed in Avni's eyes before she masked it with an arrogant smirk.
"You think you're the rightful heir?" she scoffed. "Please, Anaya. You're nothing but a ghost from the past."
Anaya took another step, voice dropping to a whisper.
"Then let's see who survives the present."
Avni's smirk faltered.
Before she could respond, a third voice interrupted.
"Girls."
"My dear Anaya," Meera Kapoor cooed, voice syrupy sweet. "It's your first night back. Shouldn't we be celebrating instead of… fighting?"
Anaya forced a polite smile. "Of course. Let's celebrate. After all, we're one big happy family, right?"
Meera's smile didn't falter, but her eyes darkened.
"We'll have dinner together," she said smoothly. "It will be just like old times."
Anaya's stomach twisted.
Old times?
The last time she had sat at the Kapoor family dinner table, her mother had still been alive.
She had been laughing.
And three days later, she had been dead.
---
Anaya traced her fingers along the familiar walls of her bedroom, a place frozen in time. The soft lavender curtains, the ivory furniture, the old bookshelf filled with her childhood favorites—all untouched, yet suffocating with memories.
She ran her fingers over a framed photograph on the nightstand—her mother, Aarohi Kapoor, smiling brightly as she held a young Anaya in her arms. Anaya exhaled slowly, gripping the frame.
"I'm back, Maa," she whispered. "And I won't let them win."
A sharp buzz broke the silence. Her phone vibrated on the nightstand. She frowned, picking it up. An international number flashed across the screen.
Hesitation flickered for just a second before she answered.
Silence. Then, a small, hesitant voice.
"Mama?"
Anaya's breath hitched. Her grip on the phone tightened. "I'm here, sweetheart."
A soft giggle. "You sound different. Are you okay?"
Her chest ached. "I'm fine. Did you sleep well?"
"Mhm," the child murmured. "But I had a dream. You were in a big house with lots of lights. Like the ones in the stories."
Anaya swallowed hard, her free hand gripping the edge of the nightstand. "You're very smart, you know that?"
Another giggle. "Mama, when will you come see me?"
Anaya closed her eyes, inhaling deeply. "Soon, sweetheart. Very soon."
A knock at the door startled her. She turned to find a servant standing hesitantly at the threshold. "Miss Anaya, dinner is served."
"I'll be down shortly," she replied, lowering her voice. "Go to sleep now, okay? Sweet dreams."
"Sweet dreams, Mama."
The call ended, leaving a hollow silence in its wake.
Anaya took a moment to compose herself before heading downstairs.
As she made her way to the dining hall, her senses sharpened. Every detail mattered. Every look exchanged. Every whispered conversation. She was walking into an enemy's den, disguised as a home.
The long mahogany dining table was already set, silverware gleaming under the golden chandeliers. Meera sat at the head, Avni beside her.
Anaya slid into her seat, her expression unreadable.
"Welcome home, Anaya," Meera said, a slow smirk tugging at her lips. "It's been too long."
Anaya met her gaze without flinching. "Not long enough."
The tension in the room thickened. But Anaya was no longer the girl who had sought approval from this family. She was here for a reason.
And she would not leave without the truth.
The dining hall was grand, filled with the soft clinking of cutlery and the murmur of servants moving around. The table was set for five, but one seat would always remain empty.
Her mother's.
Anaya ran her fingers over the stem of her wine glass, her expression unreadable as she watched Meera and Avni put on their perfect act.
"So, Anaya," Meera said smoothly, serving herself a portion of roasted lamb. "Seven years is a long time. You must have been busy. Tell us, what have you been doing all these years?"
The question was calculated.
Anaya smiled. "Learning."
Meera raised a perfectly arched brow. "Learning?"
Anaya took a slow sip of wine. "Yes. About business. Power. Betrayal." She set her glass down, meeting Meera's gaze with quiet intensity. "Things that run in the Kapoor family, don't you think?"
A brief silence.
Meera's fingers tightened around her fork, but she let out a soft laugh. "Oh, darling. You've developed quite the sharp tongue. I suppose the world teaches us to grow up fast."
Avni smirked. "Some of us were already born with power. Others have to struggle to get it."
Anaya turned to her stepsister, a slow, knowing smile curving her lips.
"And some people pretend to be something they're not."
For the first time, Avni looked rattled.
Meera placed a hand on her daughter's arm. "Enough, girls. We're family. Let's not start a war at the dinner table."
Too late.
The war had already begun.
---
A Midnight Warning
Later that night, Anaya stood by the window of her old bedroom, staring at the city skyline.
She should have felt uneasy being back in this house, but instead, she felt alive.
This was where she was meant to be.
A soft knock on the door broke her thoughts. She turned.
A servant stepped in hesitantly. "Miss Anaya, there's something you should know."
Anaya's eyes sharpened. "What is it?"
The servant swallowed. "Someone doesn't want you here."
Anaya smiled faintly. "I already knew that."
The servant hesitated, then lowered their voice. "No, miss. They want you gone. Permanently."
Anaya's fingers curled into fists.
Good.
That meant they were scared.
Let them be scared.
Because she wasn't leaving.
And by the time she was done, they'd be the ones begging to escape.
---