Riyan took one look at my face and knew.
Not guessed.
Not suspected.
Knew.
"What happened?" he asked quietly.
His voice wasn't sharp.
It wasn't demanding.
It was scared.
I tried to speak, but my throat closed painfully. The words felt too heavy, too cruel to exist out loud.
"Aarvi," he said again, stepping inside and closing the door behind him, "tell me."
My hands shook as I picked up my phone from the floor.
"Someone called me," I whispered. "From the hospital."
His body went completely still.
"The night Arjun was declared dead," I continued, voice breaking, "there was a witness."
Riyan's jaw clenched.
"What did they say?" he asked.
I swallowed hard.
"They said Arjun was alive when he was transferred," I said softly. "And that the order… the authorization…"
My chest burned.
"Was signed under your name."
The silence that followed was brutal.
Riyan stared at me as if I had struck him.
"No," he said immediately. "That's impossible."
"They drugged you," I rushed on, tears spilling freely now. "They sedated you. They made you sign without knowing. They used your authority so that if the truth ever came out—"
"So I would destroy myself," he finished hoarsely.
His knees hit the edge of the bed as if his strength had vanished.
I reached for him, but he stepped back.
"No," he whispered, shaking his head violently. "No… I would remember signing something like that."
"You don't," I said softly. "Because they made sure you wouldn't."
He dragged his hands through his hair, breathing unevenly.
"My mother," he whispered. "She did this."
I nodded slowly.
"She designed it so you would blame yourself," I said. "So even if Arjun survived… you'd never forgive yourself."
Something inside him cracked.
A sound escaped his chest—raw, broken, nothing like a sob but just as painful.
"I failed him twice," he whispered. "Once by not protecting him… and once by being the weapon used against him."
"You were a victim," I said desperately. "Just like Arjun."
Riyan laughed hollowly.
"That won't matter in court," he said. "Or in my head."
He turned away from me, pressing his hands against the wall like it was the only thing keeping him upright.
"I signed his disappearance," he whispered. "My own hands—"
I stepped closer, ignoring my fear.
"No," I said firmly. "They used your name. Not your will."
He shook his head.
"They still used me."
Tears slid silently down his face.
This wasn't rage.
This was devastation.
"They didn't just kill him," he said. "They turned me into his executioner."
I wrapped my arms around him from behind before I could stop myself.
He froze.
Then slowly… painfully slowly… he leaned back into me.
Just a little.
Enough.
"You didn't know," I whispered against his shoulder. "And now you do. That means they failed."
His breathing shuddered.
"They wanted you broken," I continued. "They wanted you alone. They wanted you to hate me so you'd never see the truth."
He covered his face with one hand.
"And you still stayed," he whispered. "Even after everything."
"Yes," I said softly. "Because this ends now."
He lowered his hand and turned toward me.
His eyes were red.
Raw.
But burning with something new.
Resolve.
"They won," he said quietly. "For years."
Then his jaw tightened.
"They don't anymore."
He straightened slowly, wiping his face, the billionaire mask not returning—but something stronger replacing it.
"They think I'll hesitate because it's my mother," he said. "They think I'll crumble because my name is on that paper."
He met my gaze.
"They're wrong."
My heart pounded.
"What are you going to do?" I asked.
His voice was calm.
Deadly.
"I'm going to find Arjun," he said.
"And then I'm going to burn every lie they built this family on."
A soft sound came from the corridor outside.
Footsteps.
Pausing.
Listening.
Riyan's eyes flicked to the door.
"Stay here," he murmured.
"No," I whispered. "Not anymore."
He looked at me for a long second.
Then nodded.
"Then we face this together."
Because the truth had finally been spoken.
And from this moment on—
There would be no more secrets between us.
Only war.