As the last of the guests hurried out, whispers buzzing like flies, Meera turned on Vikram.
"This is your fault." Her voice was low, venomous.
Vikram exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Not now, Meera."
"Not now?" Meera let out a bitter laugh. "Our daughter—your daughter—just destroyed herself in front of everyone."
"She's not a child anymore. She'll get over it."
Meera's eyes flashed. "She's broken, Vikram. And broken people do reckless things."
Vikram didn't respond. His mind was already elsewhere, calculating, adjusting the plan. The truth about Avni was out now, but that didn't mean everything was lost. He would find a way to fix it.
He always did.
---
Back at her apartment, Anaya stood by the window, watching the city lights flicker in the distance. Her phone buzzed with news alerts, headlines flashing across the screen:
"Kapoor Heiress Not a Kapoor—A Family's Web of Lies Unraveled."
"Avni Kapoor's Public Breakdown—What Happens to Kapoor Industries Now?"
She exhaled slowly, satisfaction curling in her chest.
This was only the beginning.
Avni had always been Meera's shield, the perfect daughter, the rightful heir. But now? Now, she was unstable. A liability.
And Meera Kapoor was nothing without her precious daughter.
Anaya took a sip of her wine, letting the victory settle in.
One enemy down.
Two more to go.
Anaya's lips curled into a small smile. For the first time in a long while, the weight of the past few months seemed to lift. She had played the long game, and now the seeds of her revenge were sprouting into something much larger than she had imagined.
Avni's unraveling was the final piece in the puzzle. The empire was collapsing, the family was fracturing, and the truth was out in the open. Anaya had brought them all to this moment, and now, she could walk away, leaving the ruins behind.
But part of her—just a small part—wondered if Avni's complete loss of control meant something deeper. Was there still a chance for her to break free of the chaos and rebuild herself? Or was Avni too far gone?
As the night stretched on, Anaya's thoughts drifted to Aryan. She had to face him soon. She had destroyed everything, but she wasn't sure what remained of herself.
---
The heavy slam of her bedroom door echoed through the silent Kapoor Mansion. Avni stood in front of her mirror, her chest rising and falling in uneven breaths. Her reflection stared back—wild eyes, flushed cheeks, lips trembling between rage and devastation.
Not a Kapoor.
The words kept repeating in her head like a curse, like a brand seared into her soul.
Her fingers clenched around the edges of the dressing table before she swept everything off in one violent motion. Perfume bottles, jewelry boxes, glass shards—all crashed to the floor, the destruction echoing her inner turmoil.
This was all Anaya's fault.
She had taken everything from her. Her reputation. Her name. Her identity.
Avni grabbed her phone and dialed a number. The moment the call connected, she spat, "I want her gone."
A pause. Then a cautious voice responded, "That's not how we operate, Ms. Kapoor."
Avni let out a sharp laugh. "I am not a Kapoor." The words tasted like acid. "And I don't care how you do it. I just want her to suffer."
The person on the other end hesitated. "This will cost you."
Avni's nails dug into her palm. "Money is not the problem. Just get it done."
The call ended, and for the first time in her life, Avni felt untethered.
She had nothing left to lose.
And that made her dangerous.
---
Downstairs, Meera poured herself a drink, her hands shaking slightly as she lifted the glass to her lips. The evening had been a disaster. Everything she had built, everything she had protected, was unraveling.
Vikram stood near the fireplace, his face cold and unreadable. "We need to control the narrative."
Meera scoffed. "Control? Do you realize what just happened? Avni is out of control, the board is in chaos, and the entire city is watching us fall apart."
Vikram swirled his whiskey lazily. "Avni will calm down. She always does."
Meera slammed her glass on the table. "You don't get it, do you? She's not our shield anymore. No one will see her as the rightful heir. She is nothing now."
A tense silence stretched between them.
Vikram finally exhaled, tilting his head. "So what do you suggest?"
Meera's eyes darkened. "We need to remind people who holds the power in this city. If Anaya thinks she's won, she's sorely mistaken."
Vikram smirked. "That's the Meera I know."
Meera picked up her phone, dialing a number of her own. It was time to strike back.
---
As the chaos in the seminar hall continued, Anaya felt the vibration of her phone in her hand. She stepped away from the media frenzy, slipping into a quiet corridor of Kapoor Industries before answering.
"Hello?"
A smooth, deep voice greeted her from the other side. "Congratulations, Ms. Kapoor. Your first victory is well-played."
Anaya's fingers tightened around the phone. She recognized the voice instantly. It belonged to someone powerful, someone who had been watching from the shadows, someone who had helped her in ways no one knew.
"You were right," she said, her voice steady. "Everything happened exactly as planned."
A soft chuckle. "I always am. But don't celebrate just yet. This was merely the first move. Vikram Sethi is not a man who accepts defeat easily."
Anaya's gaze darkened. "Neither am I."
There was a pause before the man spoke again. "And how's my little prince?"
A warmth flickered in Anaya's eyes at the mention of her son. She leaned against the glass window, exhaling slowly. "He's good. Happy. Safe."
"That's all that matters," the voice responded. "Keep him away from all this. He should never know the darkness we walk through."
Anaya swallowed, closing her eyes for a brief second. "I know."
"Good. I'll be in touch."
The line went dead.
Anaya lowered the phone, staring at the city lights beyond the glass. The storm had just begun, but she would fight through it—because she had something worth protecting.
She dialed another number, waiting only a second before a small, cheerful voice answered.
"Mama!"
Anaya's lips curved into a soft smile. "My baby. Did you eat?"
"Yes! Auntie made pasta, but I like it when you make it better."
Her heart clenched. "I'll make it for you soon, I promise."
"Okay! When are you coming home?"
"Soon, my love. Mama has some work to finish."
There was a tiny pause before her son whispered, "I miss you."
Anaya's throat tightened. "I miss you too, sweetheart. So much."
She heard his giggle, followed by his playful chatter about his day, and for a brief moment, the weight of revenge, betrayal, and power struggles faded away.
Because no matter what happened—no matter how many wars she had to fight—her son was the reason she would never lose.
And she would win.
For him.
---