Anaya stood at the edge of the Raichand estate's rooftop terrace, the city stretched beneath her like a web of glimmering lights. The cool wind tugged at her scarf as she breathed deeply, collecting her thoughts. Somewhere out there, in the very city she once dreamed would hold her future, enemies lurked in shadows—unseen but dangerous. People who didn't just want secrets buried—they wanted her silenced.
Behind her, Aarav approached silently, his phone still pressed to his ear. He ended the call with a sharp swipe and tucked it into his blazer pocket.
"That was the private investigator. We have a lead," he said, joining her at the railing.
Anaya turned to face him. "Who?"
"Dev Raichand's name has popped up in several offshore transactions—shell companies linked to a property in Singapore, and another in Dubai. But more concerning—he's been communicating with board members. Some of them may be on his side."
"Trying to undermine you?" Anaya guessed.
He nodded grimly. "Or worse—planning to replace me."
"And they'll do it before you can expose what happened to Meera," she added softly.
"Exactly." Aarav's voice was tight. "They're cornering us."
Anaya crossed her arms. "Then it's time we act. Not in shadows like them. Out in the open."
Aarav looked at her, his gaze softening for the first time that evening. "You're not the same woman who walked into that marriage hall with a borrowed lehenga."
Anaya chuckled dryly. "Well, I didn't expect to marry a billionaire with more family skeletons than a graveyard."
Aarav cracked a smile, fleeting but genuine. "I didn't expect to care what happened to my accidental bride."
There it was again—that invisible thread between them. Tangled, complicated, but growing stronger with every passing day.
---
Later that night, Aarav summoned Kavya and his personal attorney, Mr. Sethi, to the library. The room, lined with leather-bound books and smelling faintly of old paper and cedar, became the war room.
"We need a controlled leak," Aarav said, unrolling a blueprint of the Raichand Group's structure. "Not enough to trigger legal backlash—but enough to show we know who's pulling the strings."
Kavya, sipping a strong black coffee, frowned. "That's risky. If Dev knows we're getting close, he might retaliate."
"He already has," Anaya interjected, her voice firm. "The broken window. The stolen documents. This is war. We just haven't admitted it until now."
Mr. Sethi cleared his throat. "If you release anything, even strategically, you need public sympathy. And right now, no one knows Anaya. She's still... the outsider."
Anaya's gaze didn't waver. "Then make me the insider."
Aarav raised an eyebrow. "What are you saying?"
"I'm saying let's use the media. I'll give an exclusive interview—talk about our 'marriage,' about the family, about the kind of woman Meera was. It'll paint us as transparent, and that transparency will make the board nervous about taking Dev's side."
"Turn perception into protection," Kavya said, catching on. "Clever."
Aarav studied Anaya, then nodded. "Let's do it."
---
The next day, Anaya found herself sitting across from Neha Kapoor, a respected journalist known for her sharp interviews and massive online following. They met at a discreet studio in South Mumbai. The cameras were hidden. The atmosphere was neutral.
"I'll ask tough questions," Neha warned gently as they set up. "But I'm fair."
Anaya nodded, hands folded tightly in her lap. "Ask anything. I'll answer."
The lights came on.
"Anaya Raichand," Neha began, her tone smooth but firm. "You were a florist before you became the wife of one of India's most powerful business tycoons. That's... quite a leap."
Anaya smiled softly. "It was never meant to happen. But life doesn't ask permission."
Neha leaned forward. "Your marriage was arranged under odd circumstances—many rumors say Aarav was meant to marry someone else. How do you respond to that?"
Anaya didn't blink. "Those rumors are true. I was a last-minute bride. But what started as an arrangement has become something real."
Neha paused, visibly surprised. "Are you saying this marriage isn't a contract?"
Anaya met the camera's lens with quiet intensity. "I'm saying I signed a contract. But I fell in love."
There was a long silence. Then Neha continued.
"Let's talk about your family. The Raichands are known for their wealth—but lately, there've been whispers about internal power struggles, especially after the death of Meera Raichand. What can you tell us about her?"
Anaya took a deep breath. "Meera wasn't just Aarav's sister. She was a whistleblower. She discovered corruption. She was brave, and she paid the price. Her death was ruled an accident, but I've seen things that suggest otherwise."
"You're accusing your own family?"
"I'm seeking the truth," Anaya said. "If that truth scares people, it's because they have something to hide."
---
By evening, the interview had gone viral.
Social media exploded with #JusticeForMeera and #StandWithAnaya trending nationwide. News outlets replayed clips of her heartfelt responses. People admired her courage, her humility, her willingness to face a billion-dollar empire and demand answers.
Aarav stood in front of the TV in his study, watching the coverage. Anaya entered quietly, unsure of his mood.
"You hijacked the narrative," he said, turning to her. "In one interview, you gave us leverage."
Anaya walked toward him. "But did I also make us targets?"
"Possibly," he admitted. "But I've never been more proud of you."
Their eyes met. Something shifted in the silence between them. Aarav reached out and brushed a stray hair from her face.
"I wasn't lying earlier," he said. "You're not just my wife. You're my ally. My anchor."
Anaya's heart thudded. "And you're not just the man I married by accident. You're the man I'm choosing. Every day."
His hand lingered on her cheek. Then, without words, he leaned in.
The kiss was slow—measured at first, as though testing the waters of something that had long simmered beneath the surface. But it deepened quickly, fueled by everything they had endured, every truth revealed, every secret shared.
When they finally parted, Anaya leaned against him, breathless.
"Now what?" she whispered.
"Now," he said, "we prepare for Dev's next move."
---
Just as they began to exhale, the next blow landed.
That night, Aarav received a call from the company's head of finance.
"The board has called an emergency vote," the voice on the other end said. "Dev Raichand is proposing a new CEO. You're being ousted."
Aarav's blood went cold. "When?"
"Tomorrow morning. Be there."