By the time Riyan finally stepped away from the wall, his breathing had steadied, but the rawness in his eyes hadn't faded.
He wasn't the billionaire everyone feared at this moment.
He wasn't the cold husband who used rules like chains.
He wasn't the man who punished me for something I didn't remember.
He was simply a grieving brother who finally saw the truth.
He wiped his face with the back of his hand, trying to gather himself.
Trying to rebuild the mask he had worn for years.
"I'm fine," he whispered.
He wasn't.
But I didn't call him out on it.
Instead, I murmured, "Take your time."
A strange silence settled between us—
not uncomfortable,
not angry,
but fragile… like a new beginning learning to breathe.
Riyan inhaled deeply, straightened his shoulders, and looked at me.
His voice was quiet but steady.
"We watch the video again later. And tomorrow… I start asking questions."
I nodded.
But before either of us could speak further—
A slow clap echoed from the hallway.
I froze.
Riyan stiffened.
We turned toward the open door.
Riyan's sister, Trisha, leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, a smirk lifting the corner of her mouth.
She had seen something.
Heard something.
Something she wasn't supposed to.
"Well, well," she drawled. "Isn't this… touching?"
Riyan's expression shifted instantly—
emotion shuttered,
walls rebuilt,
the cold billionaire returning in seconds.
"What do you want, Trisha?" he asked sharply.
She raised an eyebrow.
"I came to ask why you were locked in the study with your contract wife for nearly an hour," she said. "Mother is furious. She thinks she heard crying."
My stomach dropped.
Crying.
Riyan tensed.
For a moment, he said nothing.
Then—
"Tell mother," he said plainly, "that what I do in my study is none of her concern."
Trisha blinked, thrown off.
Riyan had never defended me.
Never stood between me and his family.
Until now.
Her eyes flicked to me, sharp and assessing.
"What's going on?" she demanded. "Why are you suddenly—"
"Enough," Riyan cut in, eyes cold. "If I want your involvement, I will ask."
She bristled, but she wasn't brave enough to fight him directly.
Not yet.
Instead, her gaze slid back to me.
"Aarvi," she said sweetly—too sweetly, "don't misunderstand his temporary softness. My brother is easily influenced when emotional."
Riyan's jaw clenched.
"Leave," he said, voice low.
Trisha's smirk only deepened.
She was enjoying this.
"Fine. But just so you know—everyone downstairs already noticed the two of you were missing. Mother is preparing questions."
She turned and walked away, heels clicking against the marble like tiny warnings.
When she was gone, the study fell eerily quiet again.
Riyan sighed, rubbing his forehead.
"They're watching us," he muttered.
I swallowed hard. "They can tell something changed?"
"No," he said coldly.
"They suspect something changed—and that is more dangerous."
He walked past me toward the door, then paused.
"Aarvi," he said quietly, "from now on… don't be alone with any of them. Not my mother. Not Trisha. Not even my uncle. No one."
A chill ran down my spine.
"Why?" I whispered.
He met my eyes.
"Because the moment they realize I don't hate you anymore…"
His voice dropped to something deadly soft—
"…you become their biggest threat."
My breath caught.
"Stay beside me tonight," he added. "Not for trust. For safety."
I nodded slowly.
We left the study together and walked toward the main hall.
But as we turned the corner, several heads snapped in our direction.
His mother.
His uncle.
Two servants.
Even a distant cousin.
All staring.
All watching.
All suspicious.
Whispers rose instantly, sharp and slicing through the room.
"Why were they together?"
"He looks different."
"Did something happen?"
"She must be manipulating him."
"Look at the way he's standing beside her…"
Riyan walked straight, expression blank, but I felt the tension radiating off him.
His mother stepped forward, voice cold as marble.
"Riyan," she said, eyes flicking to me with disgust, "we need to talk."
"Later," he replied, brushing past her.
"This concerns the family," she snapped.
He stopped.
Turned slowly.
And the entire room held its breath.
Riyan's voice was calm.
Too calm.
"I am the family."
Gasps echoed.
His mother's eyes widened in shock.
Riyan didn't wait for her response.
He placed a hand on the small of my back—
light, almost unnoticeable—
but possessive enough to silence every whisper around us.
Then he said quietly:
"Aarvi is coming with me."
Every head in the room turned toward us.
And for the first time—
I wasn't standing alone.
Riyan was standing beside me.
But support from him meant danger from everyone else.
Because now…
they all knew something had changed.
And they were not going to let it happen easily.