The board meeting isn't supposed to happen until Friday.
It happens Tuesday morning.
That's the first sign something is wrong.
The second is that Darian gets the notice from a news alert before he gets it from the company.
We're in the kitchen when his phone vibrates.
He glances down.
Goes completely still.
Not angry.
Not shocked.
Still.
That's worse.
"What?" I ask quietly.
He turns the screen toward me.
BREAKING: MALHOTRA INFRASTRUCTURE BOARD TO HOLD EMERGENCY RESTRUCTURING SESSION
My stomach drops.
"That wasn't public," he says softly.
"Until now."
Another notification appears immediately after.
Then another.
Financial analysts.
Business reporters.
Market speculation threads.
Someone leaked it deliberately.
Not just the meeting.
The timing.
"The stock's already dropping," Darian murmurs.
I open the live market tracker.
He's right.
Red numbers sliding downward in real time.
Panic moves fast.
Narrative moves faster.
"Rehaan?" I ask.
"Probably."
"But the board wouldn't leak internally."
He doesn't answer immediately.
That silence tells me enough.
Someone inside helped.
Darian grabs his jacket.
"I need to go."
"I'm coming."
"No."
"Yes."
He looks exhausted already.
"Lyra—"
"If this becomes public theater, I'm already involved."
That ends the argument.
Headquarters is chaos by the time we arrive.
Reporters outside.
Cameras near the entrance.
Employees pretending not to stare.
The atmosphere feels unstable.
Like everyone knows something important is shifting, but nobody knows where they'll land afterward.
Inside the elevator, Darian loosens his tie slightly.
A tiny movement.
Human.
"You okay?" I ask quietly.
"No."
Honest.
The boardroom doors are already closed when we reach the executive floor.
Dev exits first.
His expression is unreadable.
"That was fast," Darian says calmly.
Dev sighs softly.
"It wasn't my decision."
"Whose was it?"
No answer.
That's answer enough.
"What happened?" I ask.
Dev glances toward the glass walls instinctively before lowering his voice.
"An emergency motion was introduced."
"For?"
"Interim executive restructuring."
The words feel clinical.
Too clinical.
Darian's eyes narrow slightly.
"They're forcing a vote."
Dev doesn't deny it.
The doors open again.
Rajeev steps out.
Calm as always.
"Darian."
"Uncle."
No warmth.
Just legacy.
"You leaked the meeting," Darian says flatly.
Rajeev's expression barely changes.
"The market would have discovered it regardless."
"So you accelerated panic."
"We accelerated transparency."
Corporate language is exhausting.
"What exactly are you voting on?" I ask.
Rajeev finally looks at me directly.
"Temporary redistribution of operational authority."
My chest tightens.
"To who?"
A pause.
Then—
"Rehaan."
The air leaves the room.
Darian goes very quiet.
Dangerously quiet.
"That's not oversight," he says softly.
"That's stabilization," Rajeev replies.
"No," Darian says. "That's replacement."
"It's temporary," Rajeev says.
"Until what?"
"Until confidence returns."
Confidence.
Not performance.
Not ethics.
Narrative.
Again.
"You're rewarding manipulation," I say sharply.
Rajeev's gaze shifts to me calmly.
"We are responding to market volatility."
"You created the volatility."
"Public perception created it."
That sentence makes me sick.
Rehaan appears behind them then.
Perfect timing.
Of course.
He walks toward us without hurry.
No guilt.
No embarrassment.
Just composure.
"This could've been handled privately," he says.
"You engineered a media attack," Darian replies.
"I exposed instability."
"You manufactured it."
"Did I?" Rehaan asks mildly. "Or did the market simply react to uncertainty?"
God, he sounds polished.
Prepared.
"You leaked internal discussions," Darian says.
"And yet here we are discussing trust."
Rehaan's eyes flick toward me briefly.
"Interesting."
"What do you actually want?" I ask.
For the first time, his expression sharpens slightly.
"Control," he says honestly.
Not modernization.
Not reform.
Control.
At least he finally says it.
"And Ahuja?" Darian asks quietly.
A flicker.
Tiny.
But there.
"You keep assuming this is about him."
"Because it is."
Rehaan smiles faintly.
"Then prove it."
There's the trap.
The boardroom doors open wider.
Executives filtering inside.
Some avoiding eye contact.
Some openly tense.
A coup always looks cleaner in suits.
"You can't seriously support this," Darian says to Rajeev.
Rajeev holds his gaze steadily.
"I support survival."
"At the cost of bloodline?"
"At the cost of sentiment."
That one lands.
Hard.
Nandini arrives then.
Late.
Intentional.
Her eyes move across the hallway once — assessing everyone instantly.
Then stop on the documents in Rajeev's hand.
And something in her expression changes.
Not surprise.
Recognition.
"You moved early," she says quietly.
Rajeev doesn't answer.
"You leaked before securing votes."
Still nothing.
That silence says enough.
Nandini turns toward Rehaan slowly.
"This wasn't strategy," she says.
"It was impatience."
For the first time all morning, Rehaan loses a fraction of composure.
Tiny.
But visible.
"The market panic is controllable," he says calmly.
"No," Nandini replies. "Narratives are not."
The hallway goes still.
Even the executives nearby stop pretending not to listen.
"You taught me adaptation matters," Rehaan says.
"I taught you timing matters."
That feels older than this moment.
Like an argument that's existed for years.
Then Nandini turns to Darian.
And says the last thing I expect.
"Fight this properly."
Not:
Accept it.
Step aside.
Cooperate.
Fight.
Rehaan notices it too.
His jaw tightens slightly.
Interesting.
The vote begins fifteen minutes later.
Behind closed doors.
Again.
And this time, nobody pretends it's about stability anymore.
It's about succession.
Control.
Legacy.
I wait outside with Nandini.
Neither of us speaks for a while.
Then quietly, she says:
"He moved too soon."
"You think he'll lose?"
"I think," she replies softly, "he forgot this family survives because we never attack emotionally."
A pause.
"He attacked emotionally."
By using us.
Inside the boardroom, voices rise slightly.
Muted through glass.
Pressure building.
I suddenly understand something terrifying.
This isn't just a corporate coup.
It's a test.
Of who understands power better.
Darian —
who still believes structure matters.
Or Rehaan —
who believes perception matters more.
And somewhere beyond all this…
Ahuja is probably watching.
Silent.
Patient.
Waiting to see which version of the empire survives.