Silence engulfed the room. Anaya's hands clenched into fists, nails digging into her palms.
"He killed my father," she whispered, voice barely audible. "And then he took everything."
Aryan's expression was grim. "This isn't just about Kapoor Industries anymore. This is murder, identity theft, and fraud on a level that could destroy him."
Anaya exhaled shakily, her mind racing. "If this had been in my mother's hands, why didn't she use it? Why hide it instead?"
Aryan's jaw tightened. "Because she knew Vikram would kill her before she could."
She turned back to the laptop, staring at the paused video frame—her father's last recorded moments. A deep, seething fury burned within her, but she forced herself to remain calm. She had the truth now.
But the truth wasn't enough.
Anaya sat motionless, her fingers tightening around the flash drive as Aryan watched her with careful intensity. The weight of what she had just discovered pressed heavily on her chest. A video—proof of Vikram Sethi's betrayal, the moment he stole her father's life and identity.
"We need to see it, the second video," Aryan said, his voice measured, though she could hear the underlying tension.
Anaya nodded. With shaky hands, She clicked the second video, and grainy footage filled the screen.
The timestamp in the corner read 20 years ago. The scene unfolded in a dimly lit room—an office, one that looked eerily familiar. Kapoor Industries London.
A man sat slumped in a chair, his face bruised and swollen. Raghav Kapoor.
Anaya's breath hitched. It was her father.
Opposite him stood Vikram Sethi. But it wasn't the Vikram she had known her entire life. This man had a cold, calculating gaze, his face devoid of any remorse.
"This could have been easier, Raghav," Vikram's voice echoed from the speakers. "You should have listened. But you always had to be the hero."
Raghav lifted his head weakly. "You were my friend," he rasped.
Vikram chuckled, low and mocking. "Friendship? That ended the moment you took everything that should have been mine. Kapoor Industries. Aarohi Rajvanshi, The legacy. The power."
A shadow moved in the background—someone else was in the room.
Anaya's heartbeat thundered. Her mother?
"Where is Aarohi?" Raghav demanded, his voice shaking with both rage and fear.
Vikram took a step closer. "Dead" "Sooner or later".
She loves you deeply she can identify you with a simple glance, that's interesting
Anaya let out a strangled gasp. Her hands trembled violently as she covered her mouth, horror consuming her.
In the video, Raghav lunged forward, only to be restrained by two men who emerged from the shadows. Vikram leaned in, whispering something too low for the camera to catch. Raghav's face contorted with fury, his struggles intensifying.
Then, without hesitation, Vikram pulled out a syringe. A clear liquid glistened inside.
"Goodbye, Raghav," Vikram murmured.
Anaya couldn't watch anymore. She slammed the laptop shut, her breath ragged. Silence stretched between her and Aryan, thick with unspoken grief and rage.
"He…" Anaya couldn't bring herself to say it.
Aryan's jaw tightened, his knuckles white as he clenched his fists. "Vikram killed your father, took his place, and destroyed everything that belonged to you."
A slow, burning fury spread through Anaya's chest. She had the proof. But using it immediately would be too easy.
She met Aryan's gaze, her eyes cold and resolute. "I won't expose him yet. Not now. I want him to lose everything before I strike the final blow."
Aryan gave a small nod, understanding her intent. "Then we start dismantling him. Piece by piece."
Anaya exhaled, her grief morphing into pure, controlled vengeance. "First, we take Kapoor Industries away from him. Then, we destroy his alliances. And when he has nothing left—"
"We reveal the truth," Aryan finished for her.
Vikram Sethi was about to learn what it meant to be powerless.
He led her to his study, pulling open a locked drawer. Inside were stacks of files, a collection of Vikram Sethi's secrets.
Aryan flipped through them before stopping at one. "Here."
Anaya took the folder and flipped it open. Her heart stopped.
Inside was a birth certificate.
Not hers. Avni's.
And under "Father's Name," it didn't say Raghav Kapoor.
It said Vikram Sethi.
Avni wasn't a Kapoor. She was Vikram's daughter.
Anaya's breath caught. This was the missing piece.
Vikram had manipulated Kapoor Industries for years, using Avni as a pawn. But if the truth came out, she would have no claim. Meera's power would shatter.
Anaya looked up, a slow, dangerous smile forming. "This is it."
Aryan smirked. "Now we burn them down."
---
The grand doors of the Kapoor mansion creaked open as Anaya stepped inside. The dim evening light cast long shadows across the marble floors, and the air inside was heavy with an eerie silence—one that didn't last long.
A slow clap echoed through the vast hall.
"Look who finally decided to come home," Avni's voice rang out, taunting and laced with amusement. She leaned against the staircase railing, arms folded, a smirk playing on her lips. "Tell me, dear sister, where exactly were you last night? Because the whole house was so worried."
Anaya didn't pause, unbuttoning her coat with measured ease. Her expression remained impassive as she replied, "None of your concern, Avni."
A chuckle interrupted the moment, and from the side, Abhay stepped forward, his hands in his pockets, watching Anaya with a gaze that carried something unreadable.
"Avni has a point, Anaya," he said, tilting his head slightly. "Disappearing without a word? That's… unlike you."
Anaya met his gaze, her lips curling slightly—not in amusement, but in quiet defiance. "And since when do you care where I go, Abhay?"
His jaw clenched subtly, but before he could answer, Avni took a step closer.
"Oh, she has a point, Abhay," Avni smirked, eyes gleaming with mischief. "After all, it's not like Anaya ever explains herself to anyone. She just does whatever she pleases—like vanishing in the middle of the night. What was it, Anaya? A romantic rendezvous? Or something... scandalous?"
Anaya turned to her, unimpressed. "You seem fixated on my whereabouts. Is this concern or just your usual obsession with my life?"
Avni scoffed. "Please. Unlike you, I don't have to seek validation from men."
Anaya's smirk deepened. "No, you just let them use you to stay relevant."
The smirk on Avni's face vanished, her eyes flashing with anger.
Abhay cleared his throat, stepping between them. "Enough," he said, his voice firm. His gaze lingered on Anaya before he added, "No one is accusing you of anything, Anaya. But you should know that he was looking for you."
Anaya's expression didn't change, but a flicker of something crossed her eyes. She knew exactly who Abhay was referring to.
Avni caught on immediately and let out a short laugh. "Ohh, I see. Aryan Rathore, hmm? So that's where you were? Spending the night with your childhood friend?" She leaned in mockingly. "Tell me, Anaya, how close did you two get?"
Anaya met Avni's gaze with deadly calm. "You should be more worried about yourself, Avni. People who fly too close to the sun always end up burning."
Avni's smirk faltered.
Abhay exhaled, his tone dropping. "Be careful, Anaya. You may think you're in control, but you have no idea what you're getting into."
Anaya studied him for a moment before offering a small, knowing smile. "That's where you're wrong, Abhay. I know exactly what I'm getting into."
With that, she turned on her heel and walked away, leaving both Avni and Abhay standing in the dimly lit hallway—one seething, the other watching with unreadable eyes.