Chapter 13: The Stranger in the Silk
I returned to the mansion with my head hung low, the shame of my faked accident feeling heavier than any real injury. The house was unnaturally quiet, the marble floors cold beneath my feet. I expected the usual silence of the "West Wing," but as I approached the grand staircase, I heard something that made my blood turn to ice.
A woman's laugh.
It was a melodic, sultry sound—the kind of laugh that belonged to someone who was perfectly at home in a place this expensive.
I crept toward the lounge, my heart hammering against my ribs. Through the partially open double doors, I saw him. Advik was sitting on the velvet sofa, a glass of amber liquid in his hand. But he wasn't alone.
Leaning over the back of his chair was a woman I had never seen before. She was breathtaking—tall, with hair like spilled ink and a dress of deep crimson silk that clung to her curves like a second skin. Her hand was resting casually, possessively, on Advik's shoulder.
"You've been working too hard, Advik," she murmured, her voice like velvet. "Mumbai has missed its King. I have missed you."
Advik didn't pull away. He didn't flinch. In fact, he leaned his head back slightly, his eyes half-closed as she trailed her long, manicured nails along his jawline.
"The business required my full attention, Natasha," Advik replied, his voice no longer cold or dead. It was low, intimate, and held a trace of the dangerous charm he used to aim at me.
"And now?" she asked, sliding around the chair to sit on the armrest beside him. She reached out and took a sip from his glass, her dark eyes locked onto his. "Is your... distraction finally out of the way?"
Advik's gaze flickered toward the doorway for a fraction of a second, but he didn't acknowledge me. He looked back at Natasha and gave a slow, devastatingly handsome smirk.
"The distraction is irrelevant now," he said clearly, loud enough for me to hear. "I'm focused on what matters. On people who actually know how to play the game."
I felt like I had been slapped. I stood in the shadows of the hallway, clutching the doorframe. Just hours ago, I had been faking an accident to get his attention, and here he was, replacing me as if I were a piece of outdated furniture.
The girl, Natasha, leaned in closer, her lips inches from his. "Then remind me why I stayed away so long."
I couldn't watch anymore. I turned and ran up the stairs, my eyes stinging with fresh tears. I had wanted my freedom. I had wanted Advik to leave me alone so I could be with Aman. But seeing another woman in my home, touching the man who was still technically my husband, felt like a knife being twisted in my gut.
He wasn't just cold to me anymore. He was moving on.
As I slammed my bedroom door and sank to the floor, I realized the terrifying truth: Advik wasn't just letting me go. He was already gone.