Anaya needed someone who understood corporate warfare. Someone who had the power and influence to challenge Vikram without being under his thumb.
That person was Abhinav Khanna.
A former board member of Kapoor Industries, Abhinav had been pushed out years ago—right after Vikram took full control. He was sharp, ruthless in business, and most importantly, he had a score to settle.
She hesitated only for a moment before dialing his number.
The call connected. "Well, well. Anaya Kapoor. To what do I owe this surprise?"
"I need your help," she said, keeping her voice steady.
A low chuckle. "Interesting. Last I checked, you wanted nothing to do with me."
"Things have changed."
Silence. Then, his voice turned serious. "What are you planning, Anaya?"
She clenched her fist. "I want to take back what's mine. And I think you do too."
A long pause. Then, a slow, satisfied hum. "Meet me tomorrow. Noon. My office."
Vikram Sethi was powerful, ruthless, and dangerously intelligent. If he had managed to fool the world for decades, then exposing him would require more than just evidence. It would require strategy, patience, and the right people by her side.
She needed allies.
Kapoor Industries' head of finance had worked for her father—the real Raghav Kapoor.
Loyal, methodical, and deeply respected within the company, Rohan Mehta had never liked Vikram's decisions. He had voiced his concerns when Vikram changed policies, when he manipulated shares, and when he pushed Anaya aside.
Most importantly, Rohan had been one of Aarohi Kapoor's trusted confidants.
If anyone still remembered her mother's suspicions, it was him.
Anaya arrived at his office unannounced, shutting the door behind her. "I need to know the truth," she said without preamble. "You worked with my mother. You knew my father before he… changed."
Rohan looked up sharply, his eyes narrowing. "What exactly are you asking, Anaya?"
She placed her mother's diary on the table. "I know he's not Raghav Kapoor."
His expression shifted—shock, then something darker.
For a long moment, he said nothing. Then, in a low voice, he murmured, "Aarohi was right."
Anaya's breath caught. "You knew?"
Rohan exhaled, rubbing his temple. "I had suspicions. Your mother was investigating something, but before she could confide in me, she…" He trailed off.
"You didn't push further?"
"I did," he admitted. "But I was warned to stop. And after your mother's death, I realized I was dealing with something far bigger than I could handle alone." His eyes met hers. "But if you're ready to fight, then I'm with you."
Two allies secured.
Later that night, Anaya received an anonymous message.
Unknown Number: You're walking on dangerous ground, Anaya Kapoor. If you want to survive, meet me at The Black Orchid, midnight.
Her heart pounded.
Someone was watching her.
But were they friend or foe?
Anaya had never felt this kind of fire before. It wasn't just about reclaiming Kapoor Industries anymore—it was about justice. About uncovering the truth her mother had died for.
And now, she wasn't alone. Aryan was with her.
She turned to him. "We need to move fast. The longer we wait, the more time Vikram has to cover his tracks."
Aryan crossed his arms, his sharp gaze scanning the diary. "We'll start with Kapoor Industries. If Vikram took over by force, there must be inconsistencies in financial records, contracts—something."
Anaya nodded. "I also need to look into my mother's old records. She was investigating him, and I think she left behind more than just this diary."
Aryan tilted his head. "And the anonymous message?"
She hesitated before handing him her phone. He read it quickly, then looked up. His expression was unreadable, but his grip on the phone tightened.
"This could be a trap, Anaya."
She exhaled. "Or it could be someone who knows the truth."
A long pause. Then, Aryan let out a sigh, slipping the phone back into her hand. "Fine. But you're not going alone."
The next morning, Aryan and Anaya met with Rohan Mehta, Kapoor Industries' head of finance.
Rohan was wary but determined. "I've worked under Vikram for years, and I can tell you one thing—he's been bleeding this company dry." He slid a file across the table. "Here's what I found: shell companies, embezzled funds, and forged signatures."
Anaya's heart pounded as she scanned the documents. Vikram was stealing from Kapoor Industries.
Aryan leaned in. "And this—" he pointed at one contract, "—this deal was signed a year after he took over. But the signature… it's not a match to earlier ones."
Anaya's stomach twisted. The real Raghav Kapoor had already been dead by then.
She looked at Rohan. "We need more. We need proof that he's not who he claims to be."
Rohan hesitated. "There's something else. Your mother—she had a safe deposit box. But it's been locked for years."
Anaya's breath hitched. Her mother had left something behind.
While Anaya focused on Kapoor Industries, Aryan worked on tracing Vikram's past. Who was he before he became Raghav Kapoor?
Through his contacts, he found an old business associate—someone who had known Vikram Sethi before he disappeared.
When Aryan met the man, he got exactly what he needed.
"Vikram Sethi? That man was a ghost. He vanished overnight. Then, a year later, he reappeared—as Raghav Kapoor."
Aryan's fists clenched. It was the confirmation they needed.
Vikram had planned this for years.
That night, Anaya arrived at The Black Orchid. Aryan was by her side, his presence a quiet but unwavering shield.
A figure waited in the shadows—a hooded man, watching them carefully.
When he finally spoke, his voice was low. "I know the truth about Vikram Sethi."
Anaya's pulse quickened. "Who are you?"
The man pulled back his hood, revealing a face lined with age and secrets. "I worked for your mother, Anaya. I helped her investigate. And I have what she was looking for."
Aryan stepped forward. "And what do you want in return?"
The man smiled faintly. "Justice."
Anaya met his gaze, her resolve hardening. "Then let's finish what my mother started."