Episode 4: The Order of Death
“Because it doesn’t contain the truth about Aarav’s death,” Saroj said in a trembling voice. “It contains an order for Riyansh’s death.”
Reya stared at her for a few moments. Somewhere downstairs, chaos had erupted in the mansion after a gunshot. People were running, screams were being silenced, and the heavy boots of the security guards echoed across the marble stairs. But in that dark hallway, it was as though time had stopped.
“What did you say?”
Saroj clapped a hand over her mouth. “Keep your voice down.”
Reya shoved her hand away. “Where’s Rohan? Where did Riyansh go? And whose blood is on your hand?”
Saroj looked at her palm. Blood had begun drying between her fingers. Fear filled her eyes, but beneath it was something older—guilt.
“This isn’t my blood.”
“Then whose is it?”
“The man who tried to get inside downstairs.”
“Who was he?”
“If you keep standing here asking questions, the next bullet won’t be meant for someone else.”
Saroj grabbed Reya’s wrist and began pulling her toward the narrow passage beneath the stairs. Reya tried to wrench herself free, but Saroj’s grip wasn’t weak with age. It was strengthened by fear.
“I need to get to Riyansh.”
“If you go to sir, he’ll take you straight into the crossfire. Find your brother first.”
“How do you know Rohan is in the mansion?”
Saroj stopped. Her back was turned toward Reya.
“Because I had the key to the room where he was being held.”
Reya’s breath caught. “You saw him?”
“Yes.”
“Is he hurt?”
“No. But he’s terrified.”
“Then let’s go.”
“He isn’t there anymore.”
Reya grabbed her shoulder and spun her around. “Don’t play games with me.”
“I’m not playing games.” Tears filled Saroj’s eyes. “The man who took Rohan from here knew this mansion like he’d built it himself.”
“Dev?”
“It’s easy to say a name. Recognizing the truth is harder.”
Someone shouted from above, “Sir has reached the ground floor!”
Saroj immediately pressed Reya against the wall. The next moment, Riyansh appeared at the turn in the stairs. He held a pistol in his hand, and a stain of blood was spreading across the shoulder of his black shirt. His eyes went first to Saroj, then settled on Reya.
“Why did you bring her here?”
“I came here myself,” Reya said.
Riyansh’s gaze fell on the red file Reya was still clutching to her chest. His face hardened.
“Give me the file.”
“Saroj said it contains an order for your death.”
Riyansh looked at Saroj. There was so much rage in that one glance that Reya felt even the mansion’s extinguished lights were less frightening than he was.
“You told her everything?”
Saroj lowered her head. “There’s nothing left to hide.”
Riyansh slowly descended the stairs and came to stand before them. “Where’s Rohan?”
“You’re asking me?” Reya said sharply. “You went to save him.”
“I never reached his room.”
“Why?”
“Because someone shut down the security system. The shooter wasn’t aiming at me. He was aiming at you.”
“And Rohan?”
“The room was empty.”
The file nearly slipped from Reya’s hands. “You lost him.”
“No. Someone took him from me.”
“What’s the difference?”
Riyansh stepped closer. Blood was running from his shoulder, but he didn’t even look at it. “The difference is that I’m going to bring him back.”
“I’m coming with you.”
“No.”
“You can’t stop me this time.”
“I’m not asking you to stop.” His voice was cold. “I’m asking you to stay alive.”
Reya pressed the red file against his chest. “Then tell me what this order means first.”
Riyansh didn’t take the file. His eyes remained fixed on it, as though the papers sealed inside the red cover were the face of a living enemy.
“This file was prepared by your father.”
“You said it was Aarav’s project.”
“Aarav completed it. Your father gathered the evidence for him. Separating the two was my first mistake.”
Reya’s anger faltered for a moment. “What were my father and Aarav doing?”
“Fake materials were being used in the construction contracts for Dev’s companies. Several buildings had cracks in them. Hospitals, schools, workers’ settlements—all of them were at risk. Your father pulled the records. Aarav followed the flow of money.”
“And you?”
“I stopped them.”
“Why?”
A shadow of guilt descended over Riyansh’s eyes. “Because I thought crossing Dev would destroy the entire family.”
“So you silenced your brother?”
“I tried to protect him.”
“By imprisoning him?”
“By threatening him.”
“By lying to him?”
“Yes.”
His direct answer disturbed Reya even more. She had expected Riyansh to hide his crime behind some ruthless excuse. But for the first time, he stood before her without defenses, without the arrogance that became his shield in every conversation.
“Your father didn’t listen to me,” Riyansh said. “He decided to testify. Aarav did too.”
“Then the warehouse caught fire.”
“Yes.”
“And you arrived late.”
“I sent a man to stop them from going there. He was Dev’s man. He gave me the location of the wrong place.”
Reya opened the file. “It says here that the fire started at 11:20 p.m. Your car arrived there at 11:05.”
For the first time, surprise appeared on Riyansh’s face. “You read the records?”
“I don’t just read architectural plans. I can read false timelines too.”
She held the page out to him. “Your car arrived, but you didn’t go inside. Why?”
Riyansh fell silent.
“Why?”
“Because before the fire started, someone called me and said Aarav was inside.”
“Then why didn’t you go in?”
“Because on that same call, I heard your father’s voice.”
Reya’s hand went still.
“He was screaming for help,” Riyansh said. “I ran toward the main entrance. Then there was an explosion behind me. Part of the roof collapsed. When I regained consciousness, the warehouse was burning.”
“My father?”
“Dead.”
“Aarav?”
“Gone.”
“Why did you show his body?”
“Because I needed to make Dev believe Aarav was dead.”
Reya stared at him. “So Aarav was alive?”
“Until that night.”
“And afterward?”
“I don’t know.”
“You’re lying.”
“I wish I were.”
Footsteps sounded in the hallway above again. Riyansh immediately raised his pistol and moved Reya behind him. Saroj opened an old wooden cabinet set against the wall. Behind it was a small secret door.
Reya stared at it in shock. “Where does this lead?”
“To the old basement,” Saroj said.
“And from there?”
“Outside the mansion.”
Riyansh glared at Saroj. “Who showed you this passage?”
Saroj didn’t answer.
Someone outside twisted the doorknob.
Riyansh whispered, “Everyone, get inside.”
The three of them slipped into the secret passage. The moment the door closed, two shots rang out from the other side. The wood shuddered, but the door didn’t break. Inside, the air smelled of dampness, earth, and old iron. Riyansh led the way. Drops of blood fell from his shoulder onto the stone floor.
Reya said softly, “You’re hurt.”
“It’s a scratch.”
“Your shirt is soaked with blood.”
“The mansion won’t drown in my blood.”
“Do you have to be sarcastic about everything?”
“Do you have to worry about everything?”
Reya stopped. “I’m not worried about you.”
“Good.”
“I’m worried about Rohan.”
“That’s good too.”
“And if you die, who will find Rohan?”
Riyansh stopped walking. In the darkness, he looked at her. “So you need me?”
Reya pressed her lips together. “I need you alive because you’re useful. Don’t mistake that for emotion.”
A faint smile touched his face. “You’re very afraid of emotions.”
“I’m afraid of you.”
“Those two things aren’t the same.”
“They are to me.”
For a few moments, the only sound was their footsteps. Then the tunnel opened into a small room. There was an old table, a first-aid kit, and an electrical switch on the wall. Saroj lit a lamp. In its yellow light, Riyansh’s wound became clearly visible. The bullet had grazed his arm.
Reya picked up the kit. “Sit down.”
“No need.”
“You just said I worry about everything. Now let me.”
Riyansh said nothing and sat on the edge of the table. Reya cut away the fabric of his shirt with scissors. The wound was deep, but the bullet hadn’t entered. She cleaned away the blood with cotton. Riyansh’s muscles tensed.
“Does it hurt?”
“No.”
“The vein in your neck bulges when you lie.”
He looked at her. “When did you notice that?”
“Ever since you took over my life.”
Reya bandaged him. The moment her fingers left Riyansh’s skin, an odd silence settled between them. Riyansh didn’t try to catch her wrist. This time, he kept his hand to himself.
“Thank you,” he said.
Reya blinked. “You know how to say thank you?”
“Sometimes.”
“To whom?”
“To the person I’m afraid will leave.”
Reya’s hand froze. “Who are you afraid of losing?”
Instead of answering, Riyansh looked at the red file.
“Open it,” he said.
Reya carefully placed the file on the table. Between the final pages was a thin transparent sheet. A building plan was drawn on it. It was a plan of the mansion, but one room below had been marked with a red circle.
“What is this?”
“The old security room.”
“Why would anyone go there?”
“Because Rohan was taken out through that passage.”
Reya placed a finger on the plan. “This mark?”
“Dev’s company insignia.”
“Then why haven’t you had him arrested?”
“Because I don’t have enough evidence against him.”
“There’s evidence in the red file.”
“There’s an order in the red file too.”
“Whose order?”
Riyansh turned the page. Three names were written at the bottom. The first was Dev Malhotra. The second was an unknown set of initials—V.K. In place of the third name, there was only a black mark.
“Who is V.K.?”
“Viraj Khurana.”
She looked at him. “Your father?”
“Dead.”
“But why is his name on this order?”
“Because this order was issued two days before his death.”
“For whom?”
Riyansh placed a finger on the line written beneath the page.
“Target: Riyansh Khurana.”
Cold spread through Reya.
“Your father wanted you killed?”
“My father wanted to make sure I was no longer fit to take control of the family.”
“This is an order for murder.”
“In families, there are many names for a transfer of power. Murder is the most honest one.”
Reya turned the page. The next sheet held a photograph. It showed the same mansion, the same basement, and a teenage Riyansh standing by the door. Viraj Khurana stood behind him. Aarav’s hand was visible in the corner of the photograph.
“Who took this picture?”
“Aarav.”
“Was he following you?”
“No. He was saving me.”
“What happened between the two of you?”
Riyansh looked at the flame of the lamp. “When I was seventeen, my father locked me in this room for the first time. He told me that if I got in his way, next time the door would be locked from the inside, not the outside.”
The hardness in Reya’s face slowly began to fade.
“Aarav got me out that night,” he continued. “He stole some papers from our father’s safe and showed them to me. On those papers, a date of death was written beside my name.”
“When?”
“The night of my eighteenth birthday.”
“Then what?”
“He told me to run away from the city. I refused.”
“Why?”
“Because I thought he’d be left alone if I ran.”
Reya asked very softly, “And you still lost him.”
“Yes.”
A silence settled between them, one in which years of pain seemed to breathe. For the first time, Reya understood that Riyansh’s hardness hadn’t been built solely to frighten others. It had grown around a boy who had been told since childhood that the person who loved him would be the first to betray him.
“Did Saroj know about all this?”
“Saroj hid me that night.”
“So she’s on your side.”
“Saroj isn’t on anyone’s side.”
“Then why is she helping me?”
Riyansh looked at her. “Because she thinks I’ll turn you into someone like me.”
Reya lowered her eyes.
Suddenly, Saroj pointed at the plan. “Look here.”
A small mark appeared along the edge of the plan—two intersecting lines. It was the same mark on the wall behind Rohan’s photograph.
“This man is showing us the way,” Riyansh said.
“Who?” Reya asked.
Riyansh pulled a folded piece of paper from the red file. It contained only one line: “The one declared dead will testify tonight.”
Reya’s heart began pounding. “Aarav?”
Riyansh folded the paper. “Maybe.”
“Not maybe. You know.”
“I only know that this message is in the same handwriting Aarav used.”
“Then we’ll find him.”
“Not we.”
“I’m coming with you.”
“You have no idea how dangerous this is.”
“I know about my brother. My father. And the man who bought my life and shoved me into this darkness.”
Riyansh stood. “If you come with me, you’ll follow my orders.”
“I’m not your wife.”
“I didn’t ask you to be my wife.”
“Then what are you asking?”
He stopped in front of her. “Be my partner. At least until we bring Rohan back.”
Reya looked into his eyes. For the first time, there was no command in them, only a plea. Deep, but hidden.
“And after that?”
“After that, you’re free.”
“Will you really let me go?”
It took Riyansh a moment to answer. Then he said, “If you want to leave.”
Something seemed to pierce Reya’s chest. That wasn’t the answer she wanted. She wanted him to command her again, to try to stop her again, so she could bury the unwanted softness rising inside her beneath anger.
“I don’t trust you,” she said.
“I know.”
“And maybe I never will.”
“I know that too.”
“And yet I’ll go with you.”
Riyansh extended his hand. This time, Reya looked at it but didn’t take it.
“If you’re coming with me, don’t fall behind,” he said.
“I’m used to walking ahead.”
“Then prove it tonight.”
They emerged from the secret tunnel. The old garden behind the mansion was submerged in darkness. A few lights had returned to the windows of the main building in the distance. Security guards were dragging away the wounded attacker. His face was covered with black cloth.
Reya’s gaze fell on him. The attacker’s hand dragged along the ground. The same mark was etched into his wrist—two intersecting lines.
“Wait,” Reya said.
Riyansh looked at her. “What is it?”
“His wrist.”
He walked over to the attacker and pulled away the cloth, revealing his face. The man was barely conscious, but his eyes were open. The moment he saw Riyansh, he tried to laugh.
“You’re too late,” he whispered.
“Where’s Rohan?” Riyansh asked, pressing a hand around his throat.
The man looked at Reya. “Sister... do you want to know the truth?”
Reya stepped forward. “Yes.”
“Then ask the man... who lit your father’s funeral pyre.”
“Which man?”
The attacker’s smile widened. “Your... own...”
His head lolled to one side.
Before Reya could process what had happened, she noticed a glint of metal sticking out of the attacker’s pocket. She bent down and picked up an old key. The letter R was engraved on it.
Riyansh’s face went pale.
“This is Aarav’s key.”
“You’ve seen it before?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
He closed his fist around the key. “In his hand that night.”
“The night at the warehouse?”
“No.”
Riyansh looked toward the dark garden. His voice was so quiet that even the wind could barely hear it.
“The night I saw him alive for the last time.”
Reya’s heart lurched. “Where was he?”
Riyansh looked at her.
“At your house.”
A cold wind suddenly rose. Somewhere among the trees, a dry branch snapped. An image of her old house surfaced in Reya’s mind—the locked room, her father’s cabinet, the broken clock hand hanging on the wall, and the night her family had always called an accident.
“Aarav came to my house?”
“To meet your father.”
“Why?”
“Your father gave him something.”
“What?”
Riyansh looked at the red file. “The original copy of this order.”
Reya gripped the file tighter. “Then something is still hidden in my house.”
“Yes.”
“And Dev knows about it.”
“He knows we have the file now.”
“He took Rohan because of this.”
“Maybe.”
“Why do you say maybe in every answer?”
“Because in this game, certainty kills faster than death.”
He headed toward the car. Reya followed.
“Where are we going?”
“Your old house.”
“At this hour?”
“Whoever we’re looking for is awake tonight too.”
Before getting into the car, Reya turned to look back at the mansion. A silhouette stood in the upper part of one window. It looked like Saroj. But there was no lamp in her hand—only a red cloth.
Reya narrowed her eyes. The silhouette waved the cloth outside the window, then disappeared.
Riyansh started the engine. “What did you see?”
“Nothing.”
He looked at her. “When you lie, you curl your fingers.”
Reya opened her fist. “I’m learning to lie from you.”
A tired smile touched Riyansh’s lips. “Stay with me, and you’ll learn a lot.”
“I won’t become like you.”
“I never asked you to become like me.”
“Then what?”
He kept his eyes on the road. “Even after seeing the darkness I live in, keep your light.”
Reya looked out the window. The city lights fell behind them. Ahead was her old house, where the lie about her father’s death was buried. Beside her sat the man she wanted to hate, but seeing the bandage around his arm had made her heart clench despite herself.
And somewhere in the darkness, Rohan was being held captive.
Maybe Aarav was too.
Maybe there was a third person who had been controlling everyone like puppets for years.
The car stopped in front of the old house. The iron gate was half open. Every window inside was dark except the room where her father’s cabinet stood. A faint red light glowed there.
Riyansh drew his pistol. “Stay behind me.”
“I’m not your responsibility.”
“I know.”
“Then what?”
As he opened the door, he said, “You might be my weakness. But tonight, you’ll be my strength.”
Reya entered the house with him.
Someone slowly knocked three times on the locked room upstairs.
Then a voice came from inside—
“Reya... don’t let Riyansh come alone.”
Reya’s blood froze.
It was her brother Rohan’s voice.