Authors pov
She sipped her espresso like it didn’t taste bitter.
Like her entire life hadn’t been bitter since Taniya came back from California.
Since Dawood clung to her instead of his real family. Since Danish started avoiding eye contact. Since everyone pitied poor, perfect Taniya Malik.
Shreya’s hands tightened around the cup.
Across the booth, Theodore watched her. Cold. Still. Dangerous.
“I don’t usually work with strangers,” she said, eyes narrowed. “But you… you’re not exactly a stranger, are you?”
He tilted his head. “I know her better than anyone else ever did.”
A sick smile played on her lips. “Then I guess we both want the same thing.”
He didn’t answer. His fingers tapped the table softly. Steady. Rhythmic. Like a man humming a funeral tune.
“She doesn’t deserve Dawood,” Shreya snapped. “She acts like she’s his mother—stealing him from me, from Danish. She doesn’t even have a right.”
Theodore blinked slowly. “You don’t want the boy. You want the man.”
Her silence was telling.
His voice dropped to a whisper. “And I don’t want either. I only want her.”
Shreya leaned in, hatred leaking from her voice like venom. “Then we help each other.”
He finally looked at her. “What do you have?”
She smirked.
“Taniya is pregnant.”
The table fell quiet.
His breath caught—just for a moment.
Then he laughed. Low. Hollow. Frightening.
“Of course she is,” he murmured. “A leash. A child made of him. His blood inside her.”
Shreya pushed the knife in deeper. “She’s glowing. Happy. Safe. Everyone’s favorite again. Even Shahjahan treats her like a queen. And Dawood—he calls her ‘maa.’ Not me. Her.”
She clenched her jaw. “I would’ve been a better mother. A better wife to Danish. But no one saw me.”
Theodore nodded slowly. “They will.”
A silence passed.
Then she slid something across the table.
A small USB.
“Security layout. Villa floor plans. Patterns. Who sleeps where and when,
He took it.
“What do you want in return?” he asked.
“Just take her down,” she hissed. “Break her. Ruin her. Make her leave.”
His eyes gleamed. “I won’t break her.”
Shreya raised an eyebrow.
“I’ll take her,” he whispered, voice almost reverent. “And once she sees how easily everything crumbles… she’ll finally come home.”
To me.
...
Theodore's pov
Midnight
Walls covered in sketches of Taniya. Dozens. Some torn. Some stabbed with pins. Some smudged with dried charcoal. A mirror cracked. A sketchbook open, trembling candlelight flickering in front of it.
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