Beneath The Storm (Completed)

Chapter-49:A House of Cards

The air in the penthouse felt heavier than usual, a stifling silence that seemed to press down on everything within its walls.

Inaara sat on the couch, her shoulders slumped, her fingers absently tracing the edge of the cushion.

Her gaze was distant, unfocused, as though she were lost in a world where she could rewrite the events of the past few hours.

The sound of the door opening pulled her back to the present.

Atharv entered, his commanding presence filling the space effortlessly.

He was still in his tailored suit, the faint crease on his shirt suggesting a long day at work.

“Atharv,” Inaara called softly, her voice barely louder than a whisper.

He stopped mid-step and turned to look at her.

His sharp eyes, which usually bore an intimidating edge, softened momentarily, though he masked it quickly.

“You won, Atharv,” she said, each word falling like a stone from her lips.

Her voice trembled slightly, betraying the struggle it took to utter them. “You kept your promise. I’ll go.”

Atharv’s expression didn’t change, but something shifted in his chest—a pang he hadn’t anticipated.

He thought he would feel triumph at her surrender, a sense of victory.

But what he saw instead was a woman who had been defeated not by him, but by her own helplessness.

Her face was devoid of emotion, as if she had drained herself of every feeling just to deliver those words.

Her lips, usually curved in a soft smile, were now set in a straight line.

Her eyes—those expressive, soulful eyes—were empty, reflecting no anger, no sadness, not even acceptance.

Just nothingness.

Atharv stood rooted in place, his jaw tightening.

“Your outfit will arrive tomorrow with your team,” he said finally, his voice firm but devoid of its usual edge.

Inaara gave no response.

She didn’t nod, didn’t speak.

She simply stared ahead, as though she hadn’t heard him.

Atharv shifted uncomfortably, his eyes scanning her face, searching for any trace of emotion—a flicker of rebellion, a spark of defiance, even a hint of resentment.

But there was nothing.

Her silence, her blankness—it unnerved him in a way he couldn’t describe.

After a long pause, her voice broke the silence again.

“It’s you, isn’t it?” she asked, her tone low, weary.

Atharv’s brow furrowed slightly. “What?”

“You sent Mamma to me,” she said, her gaze finally lifting to meet his.