Riyan didn't let his mother leave.
Not this time.
He stepped back into the hallway first, his hand briefly tightening around mine—not possessive, not romantic, just grounding.
"Come," he said quietly.
His tone made it clear this wasn't a request.
The mansion was still awake.
Lights glowed in the main hall.
Servants paused mid-step.
Whispers froze when they saw Riyan walking toward the living room with me beside him.
And behind us—
His mother followed.
Her spine was straight.
Her face calm again.
But her eyes…
They were burning.
Riyan stopped in the center of the hall.
"Everyone," he said, his voice carrying easily across the room, "sit down."
The command hit like thunder.
His uncle stiffened.
Trisha frowned.
A distant cousin shifted nervously.
"This is unnecessary," his mother said sharply. "You're tired. Emotional."
Riyan turned to her slowly.
"No," he said evenly. "I was emotional before. Right now, I'm awake."
Silence fell.
He looked around the room once—taking in every face, every carefully practiced expression.
"You all believed my brother died because of a girl," he began calmly.
"You believed he was weak. Unstable. In love."
His gaze locked onto his mother.
"That story was a lie."
A murmur rippled through the room.
"What are you saying?" his uncle asked sharply.
"I'm saying," Riyan continued, voice steady, "that Arjun Malhotra did not destroy himself. He was destroyed."
His mother laughed softly.
"Riyan, stop embarrassing yourself—"
"You erased him," Riyan cut in, turning fully toward her now.
"You hid the truth. You let me hate the wrong person. And you let this family rot on that lie."
Trisha stood abruptly.
"Brother, this has gone too far—"
"Sit," Riyan said coldly.
She did.
I watched in stunned silence.
This wasn't the man who had married me out of hatred.
This was a man reclaiming himself.
"You called Arjun an inconvenience," Riyan said, his voice lowering.
"You said his disappearance was necessary."
His mother's lips tightened.
"Careful," she warned. "You don't understand what you're accusing me of."
"I understand perfectly," he replied.
"You chose money and reputation over your own son."
Gasps filled the hall.
"That's a lie!" his uncle snapped. "Watch your mouth—"
Riyan turned to him slowly.
"You canceled your standing meeting the moment the past resurfaced," he said coolly.
"You flinch every time Arjun's name is spoken."
The uncle's face went pale.
Riyan looked back at his mother.
"You didn't just fake a story," he continued.
"You staged a death."
The room erupted.
"What nonsense—!"
"How dare you—!"
"This is madness!"
Riyan raised his hand.
Instant silence.
"I have proof," he said simply.
Every head turned.
My heart pounded.
His mother's eyes narrowed dangerously.
"Think very carefully," she said softly. "Once you cross this line, there is no return."
Riyan stepped forward.
"I crossed it the day you let me believe my brother was dead."
He turned to the family.
"This woman," he said, his voice hard as steel, "threatened my wife tonight. Alone. Behind a locked door."
Shock rippled through the room.
I felt dozens of eyes on me.
"She told her to stay insignificant," Riyan continued.
"She told her she ruined one Malhotra already."
His gaze softened for half a second—only for me.
"That ends now."
His mother finally lost her composure.
"You're choosing her over blood?" she hissed.
Riyan didn't hesitate.
"I'm choosing truth over control."
The words sliced through the room.
"You raised me to protect this family," he said.
"Congratulations. I finally am."
He turned to the servants.
"From this moment," he said clearly, "no one is to enter Aarvi's room without my permission. Any violation—report directly to me."
His mother stared at him like she was seeing a stranger.
"You think you've won," she said quietly. "You have no idea what you've started."
Riyan met her gaze without flinching.
"Good," he replied.
"Because this time… I'm finishing it."
He turned, guiding me away from the stunned silence behind us.
As we walked down the corridor, my heart still racing, he spoke quietly—only for me.
"I'm sorry," he said.
"For everything. For doubting you. For letting them hurt you."
Tears blurred my vision.
"You believed me," I whispered.
He nodded once.
"And now," he added softly, "no one touches you without going through me."
Behind us, the Malhotra mansion buzzed with chaos.
Because the truth had finally been spoken—
And power had shifted.