5 SEPTEMBER 2023

☆.｡.:*HYDERABAD, INDIA

VANYA'S POV

The loud slam of the office door echoed down the sleek, modern corridor, each reverberation mirroring the tension coiling inside me. I clenched my fists at my sides, my nails biting into my palms, but my steps didn't falter. The rhythmic click of my heels on the polished marble floor was the only sound I registered as I made my way to the office at the far end of the hallway.

I knocked firmly, the sound cutting through the silence, and only when I heard the muffled "Come in," did I twist the knob and push the door open.

Mr. Kapoor sat behind his expansive desk, his focus locked on the documents in front of him, not sparing a glance in my direction. The cold air of the room mirrored the sterility of his expression—detached and devoid of any warmth.

"Vanya," he said, his voice low and clipped, not bothering with formalities.

"Sit."

I did as he ordered, settling into the chair across from him.

And I knew what was coming next.

His demeanor said it all.

"You know why you're here." His voice was as sharp as a blade, and without another word, he slid a copy of "The Daily Insight " across the desk.

I didn't need to look at it to know what was wrong.

The cover story wasn't mine.

The report wasn't mine.

The article wasn't mine and the headline was also not mine.

It was of Vriti's.

"I expected more from you," Mr. Kapoor continued, his voice dripping with disappointment, each word landing like a weight pressing harder against my chest.

"This interview was supposed to be your breakthrough. For 6 months you've been working towards this promotion, and what do I get? A lackluster interview buried on page twelve. You didn't make the front page, Vanya, and you certainly didn't get the promotion."

I sighed, leaning back in my chair.

The heaviness in my chest coiled tighter, but I refused to break.

"Vriti stole my questions," I said, my voice calm, unwavering, almost too steady for the storm raging inside me.

Mr. Kapoor blinked, taken aback for a moment. His brows furrowed in surprise at my bluntness, a flicker of confusion crossing his usually composed face.

"Excuse me?" he asked, disbelief dripping from his tone.

"You heard me right, sir," I repeated, sitting up straighter, my gaze firm, holding his.

I wasn't going to back down.

"I spent nights preparing for that interview. The questions were mine. The interview was mine. And on the same day of my interview, my questions were stolen... and most of them, Vriti used before me, as I overheard in her interview. That's why my report turned out the way it did—weak and uninspired. Not because I wasn't prepared, but because someone sabotaged my work."

His eyes narrowed as he processed my words. The tension between us thickened, his fingers drumming lightly on the edge of the desk.

"That's a serious accusation, Vanya," he said, voice now laden with skepticism.

"Do you have any proof?"

I smiled faintly, a calm confidence rolling through me. "I don't make accusations lightly, sir. As for proof, you should ask your company's IT manager. A few days ago, the camera above my desk mysteriously got damaged. I requested several times, and it was finally repaired yesterday... otherwise, all the evidence would have been captured."

He stared at me for a long moment. His gaze was piercing, scrutinizing every word I had just spoken, as if he was weighing my entire career in his mind.

"I can't believe your side of the story, Vanya, without any proof," he finally said, his voice cold, clipped.

"And the fact remains that your interview wasn't up to par. The magazine needs strong, headline-worthy material, and if you can't deliver that, there's nothing I can do to help you."

I straightened in my chair, determination surging through me. My voice was firm, unwavering as I let the words out of my mouth, "Give me one more chance, Sir."

Mr. Kapoor leaned back in his chair, his eyes narrowing as he considered me for a moment longer. I could see the reluctance etched into every line of his face, the wheels turning behind his calculating gaze. 

He wasn't one to grant second chances easily, and I knew I was treading on thin ice.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he nodded once—a slow, reluctant acknowledgment.

"Fine," he said, the word heavy with warning.

"But you have to make it before the new year. Otherwise..." He trailed off, letting the weight of his words sink in.

"Otherwise, let alone a promotion, you might even lose the position you have."

His words hung in the air like a dark cloud. I nodded, the fire in my chest burning hotter than ever.

Failure wasn't an option for me and I knew that.

Stepping out of Mr. Kapoor's office, I headed straight down the hall, my vision narrowing as I focused on a single door ahead.

The polished nameplate on the outside read Miss Vriti Rawat—the girl who had effortlessly swooped in and stolen everything I had poured my time and energy into.

The mere memory of her sneaking in, dissecting every question I'd crafted, and twisting it for her gain sent a fresh wave of anger simmering beneath my calm exterior. But I forced it down, exhaling slowly as I pushed the door open and stepped inside.

Vriti sat behind her sleek desk, eyes fixed on her computer screen, fingers gliding smoothly across the keyboard.

Without missing a beat, she spoke, her tone cool and unbothered, "You have to knock and get permission before barging into someone else's cabin."

She then lifted her gaze up to look at me, an infuriatingly placid expression on her face, as if she had anticipated my arrival, expecting the confrontation.

My gaze flicked across the room—the chair, the desk, the nameplate—all of it neatly arranged, every detail meticulously set in place, claiming a space that should have been mine. There was a bitter satisfaction she seemed to draw from occupying a seat I had rightfully earned, as though this twisted game was hers to play and win. I took a breath, steadying the torrent of words ready to spill from my lips, keeping my posture rigid and unyielding.

I stepped forward, my grip tightening as I threw the magazine onto her desk with more force than intended. The cover flapped open, displaying the headline that should have been mine, the story she'd filched right from under me. 

Vriti glanced up, her eyes wide with that mock-innocent look she wore so well—feigning surprise, as though I hadn't already caught onto her little act.

"Oh, Vanya, is it you?" she cooed, a false sweetness dripping from her voice. "I thought someone else had barged in."

The patronizing tone, her smug calmness—everything about her right now only fanned the flames of anger licking at my insides. My jaw clenched as I held her gaze, fury brimming beneath a strained veneer of control, and I felt my fists tighten by my sides.

"Stop this drama, Vriti." My voice came out low, shaking with barely contained rage. "Why the hell did you steal my questions? Was it worth it—for an interview? A promotion? We both had the same chance, the same shot at making the front page, and you couldn't even be bothered to prepare your own questions. Instead, you had to sink low enough to steal mine."

Her eyes held that smug little glint, unbothered by my words, and that only fueled my anger further. "Because of you," I continued, my voice rising, "I was left empty-handed, scrambling for something at the last minute. All for what? To see your name on that cover? You're pathetic fucking bitch!"

She raised an eyebrow at my words, the faintest hint of a smirk dancing on her lips, replacing that innocent look she wore so well.

"Oh, Vanya..." she purred, her tone calm, almost mocking. "It's just business, darling. Learn to keep up. Besides," she leaned back, crossing her arms with a careless ease that only infuriated me more, "Do you have any proof that I stole your precious question lineup?"

My fists clenched, but I forced my voice to stay steady. "You and I both know exactly what you did, Vriti. Proof or not, you're just a fraud hiding behind a desk you never earned."

She let out a small, mocking laugh before sighing, giving me a look dripping with mock pity.

"Well, Vanya," she began, voice low and condescending, "This chair was always meant for me, this desk, this office... all of it." She pressed her lips into a thin line, her eyes flashing with something close to triumph.

"And if you're so convinced I stole your precious questions, then show me proof. Otherwise, I'd suggest you stop hurling baseless accusations. It's unbecoming," she added, the smirk deepening.

I felt the anger rise within me, the injustice of it all.

But as much as I wanted to lash out, I knew better than to give her the satisfaction of seeing me unravel.

I sighed, offering a slow, mocking clap as I pressed my lips together. 

"Well, you won this time,  Miss Vriti Rawat. But don't get too comfortable. I'm not letting you win again. This position was meant to be mine, and I'll get it back by any means necessary," I said, my voice steady as I met her challenging gaze.

She raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a taunting smile as she rose from her chair. Placing both hands on the desk, she leaned forward, her expression hard and calculating. 

"Trust me, Vanya, you should stop setting yourself up for disappointment. If I wanted, I could have you out of this company with a single word. But where's the fun in that?" She leaned closer, voice dropping to a harsh whisper. "I'd rather see you work under me. And as for replacing me... that day will never come."

I scoffed, letting out a low, humorless laugh. "Then you'd better prepare yourself for some unexpected turns, Vriti. If you're so eager to keep me here, know that I'm not someone who can be tamed. I'll make you regret this decision, and before this year ends, this desk will be mine alone. Mark my words."

She tilted her head, her eyes narrowing as if sizing me up. 

"Are you giving me a challenge, then?"

I leaned in, matching her steely stare.

"Exactly."

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

AUTHOR'S POV

A dense silence draped over the dimly lit backroom of the club, broken only by the muffled bass from the main floor. Around a sleek, polished table, a handful of men waited, each face cast in shadows under the dim light. 

Tension thickened in the air, barely contained by the stifling walls, as one man, dressed sharply in a tailored suit, leaned forward, tapping his fingers on the table with a slow, deliberate rhythm.

The man opposite him cleared his throat, attempting a casual tone. 

"So, shall we finalize this deal?"

His voice wavered just enough to betray his nerves. His hand moved to the papers spread out between them, ready to sign, his eyes darting toward the suitcase at the far end of the table, stuffed with money for transporting unmarked crates of weapons.

In response, the suited man smirked, the dim light barely illuminating his icy gaze as he watched the other man like prey. 

Without a word, he slid a pen across the table, nodding for him to sign. 

The man swallowed, reaching for the pen with trembling fingers. 

But something shifted. 

The suited man's eyes narrowed, catching a flicker of hesitation. His expression darkened, and he leaned back in his seat, his fingers tightening into a fist. 

He waited as the man hesitated again, the pen hovering above the paper.

"You're nervous," The suited man said, his voice slicing through the tension like ice—slow and lethal. "Is there something you need to tell me?"

The man across from him froze, stammering, "No...just...ready to sign." But his hand betrayed him, twitching involuntarily. 

In a swift motion, the suited man seized the pen and, without hesitation, drove it through the man's hand, the crunch of piercing flesh echoing through the room. 

A strangled cry escaped as the man recoiled, clutching his wounded hand, blood spreading across the table.

"Do you think Abhimaan Raizada is some kind of fool?" 

The suited man-The Abhimaan Raizada's voice was low, controlled, and all the more terrifying for it. 

He leaned in close, his face now devoid of any pretense of civility. "You didn't expect me to be here, did you? You thought you'd come alone, show sincerity, slip a few bills off the top, leave out a few crates, and that Kevin wouldn't notice." His tone turned almost conversational, a cold smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

A guard nearby shifted, moving closer, but Abhimaan silenced him with a glance.

The man before him was pale, lips trembling, blood pooling on the table as he stammered out pleas.

"You wanted this deal, didn't you?" Abhimaan murmured, standing up from his seat. "And You're lucky I'm only taking my payment in flesh tonight." 

He glanced at his men around the table before signaling Kevin, his 6'4" tall and muscular guard, whose expression remained impassive, waiting for the command.

"Kevin," Abhimaan called, his voice steady, "Make sure this bastard understands the cost of betrayal. I want every name associated with him, every single being involved in this little fraud. And later, you know what to do with him."

Kevin nodded, a grim determination in his eyes.. while Abhimaan turned to leave, with one of his men following closely behind..