The silence of Karan's penthouse felt heavier at night. The marble floors no longer gleamed with cold elegance - they felt like a trap beneath her bare feet.

Aira couldn’t sleep.

She stepped out of her room, careful not to make noise. The corridor stretched long and shadowed. A few modern art pieces lined the walls, but none had any warmth. Like everything else here - they only spoke of power, not comfort.

As she walked past the study, her fingers brushed against a brass doorknob.

Locked.

It was the only door in the house that didn’t open. Curiosity tugged at her. What was he hiding?

She leaned closer, ear pressed against the cold wood. Nothing. But just as she turned to leave -

"Looking for something?"

She froze.

Karan’s voice cut through the dark like a blade. He stood behind her, shirt unbuttoned at the top, sleeves rolled up, eyes unreadable.

“I… I was just looking for water,” she said, swallowing hard.

"The kitchen is in the opposite direction," he replied, stepping closer. "This room is off-limits."

Aira turned to face him fully. "What’s in there?"

He smiled - but there was no warmth in it. Only warning.

“You like dangerous answers, don’t you?”

Then, to her shock, he reached past her and unlocked the door.

The study was nothing like the rest of the house. Dimly lit, filled with dark wood and shadows. Bookshelves towered over a massive desk. But her eyes were drawn to a corner.

A child’s toy. A pink stuffed bunny.

Next to it, a photo.

Karan, younger, smiling.
With a woman.
And a baby.

Aira didn’t breathe. She turned to him slowly. “This... this was your family?”

He didn’t answer. Just stared at the photo.

“Don’t look at it like that,” he said finally. “They’re gone. And it’s not your story to know.”

The calm in his voice didn’t match the storm in his eyes.

Aira wanted to speak - but what could she say?

He stepped back, locking the door again. “Next time you sneak around, I won’t be so generous.”

As he turned to leave, he said one more thing - soft, but enough to make her skin crawl:

“You think you’re here because I paid you. But Baby... you were always meant to end up here. Whether you signed or not.”

And then he disappeared into the dark, leaving her with more questions than ever.

She was standing still with dozens of questions in her mind, questions about what Karan said before leaving.

Morning breakfast with devil.

The morning sun spilled into the room like a soft intrusion, warming the cold greys of the expensive decor. Aira blinked against the brightness, momentarily forgetting where she was. The unfamiliar ceiling, the clean, untouched bedsheets, the eerie silence - everything reminded her she no longer belonged to her own world.

She pushed the blanket away and sat up, still in her clothes from last night. Her suitcase sat untouched in a corner. Her body ached with exhaustion, but her mind was wide awake, constantly rewinding everything that happened.

A soft knock broke the silence.

Maya.

"Good morning, Miss. Mr. Malhotra asked for you to join him for breakfast," she said with her usual calm tone, but there was a glint of sympathy in her eyes.

Aira forced a nod and stepped into the bathroom to freshen up. When she finally made her way down the long corridor, she felt like an intruder walking into a museum. Every corner gleamed, and every surface whispered, You don’t belong here.

The dining room looked like it belonged in a five-star hotel. A long table, crisp white linen, fresh fruit, omelettes, toast, juice. Everything laid out with precision.

And at the head of the table sat Karan Malhotra. Reading the morning paper like a king in his castle.

He didn’t look up. “You’re late.”

She stood still, unsure if she should sit. “I didn’t know breakfast had a fixed time.”

Now he looked at her - cold, unreadable eyes. “It does now.”

She bit her tongue and sat down, reaching for a piece of toast. Her hand trembled, just slightly.

He noticed. Of course he did.

“This isn’t a vacation, Aira,” he said, sipping his black coffee. “You follow my schedule. My rules.”

“And if I don’t?” she asked, looking at him directly for the first time.

A flicker of amusement crossed his face. “Then things get difficult. For both of us.”

Silence. Heavy and sharp.

Aira set the toast back down. “I’m not here to be your puppet.”

He tilted his head. “No. You’re here to be mine for a month. There’s a difference.”

She clenched her jaw. “You can buy my time, Karan. Not my soul.”

That made him pause. His eyes scanned her face like he was reading something buried deep. Then he leaned back in his chair and gave a small, humorless smile.

“We’ll see how long that lasts.”

Before she could answer, he stood up, buttoning his blazer.

“I’ll be out for meetings. You’re free to go anywhere inside the apartment. Maya will show you what you need. Just don’t try anything stupid.”

He walked past her, and for a second, she caught the faintest scent of his cologne - dark, musky, powerful. Like him.

Aira exhaled shakily once he was gone. She looked around the polished, silent dining room and realized the worst part of all this wasn’t the luxury. It was how easily it could make someone forget their fight.

She wouldn’t forget. Not now. Not ever.

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