Kiara's pulse hammered as Rohan stepped inside, his shadow stretching across the floor like a warning.
"What do you want, Rohan?" Her voice was steady, but her fingers curled into fists.
He smiled—a slow, unsettling curve.
"I want what Aarav took from me. You."
Kiara froze. The truth hit like a storm. This wasn't about gossip or headlines. It was obsession.
"You think tearing us apart will make me yours?" she spat, anger replacing fear.
Rohan's eyes darkened.
"You were mine before he came back. Every scene, every look—you felt it too."
Kiara stepped closer, her voice sharp as glass.
"What I felt was professionalism. Nothing more. And if you think these games will break me, you're wrong."
Rohan laughed softly, pulling out his phone.
"Games? Kiara, this is war. And I'm winning."
On the screen, a new headline flashed:
"Aarav Mehta's Paris Project Faces Sabotage—Insider Leaks Confidential Data."
Kiara's breath caught.
"What did you do?"
Rohan's grin widened.
"Let's just say… when Aarav falls, you'll need someone to pick up the pieces."
Kiara's world tilted. This wasn't just about her reputation anymore. Aarav's career—his dream—was under attack. She grabbed her phone, dialling Aarav, but the call didn't connect. Panic surged.
Rohan leaned in, whispering:
"Choose wisely, Kiara. Him… or your own survival."