Chapter -4 The Photograph
2114 Words
Arman Sethi.
Several researchers.
And on the table—
PROJECT ASTER.
Aarohi leaned closer to the screen.
Her heart was beating faster.
Not because she was afraid of the investigation.
Not because of Raghav.
Not even because of the police.
It was because of the person standing in the photograph.
Her father.
The one person she had never expected to become part of the mystery.
She picked up her phone.
She called him.
He answered after several rings.
“Aarohi?”
“Come to my office.”
There was a pause.
“Now?”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“I found something.”
“What?”
“You know what.”
Silence.
Aarohi's eyes hardened.
“Dad.”
“I'll come.”
The call ended.
She placed the phone on the table.
For the first time, she wasn't waiting for an explanation from a businessman.
She was waiting for an explanation from her father.
And somehow, that felt much more frightening.
---
The Conversation
Nearly forty minutes later, the door opened.
Rajeev entered.
He looked at Aarohi.
Then at the laptop.
The moment he saw the photograph, his expression changed.
Aarohi noticed.
“You know it.”
Rajeev didn't answer.
“You know this photograph.”
“Yes.”
The answer was quiet.
Aarohi almost wished he had lied.
At least a lie would have given her something to fight against.
Instead, he had confirmed everything with one word.
“How long?”
Rajeev pulled out a chair.
“Aarohi, sit down.”
“No.”
“Aarohi—”
“I asked you how long you've known.”
He looked at her.
“Since before you started Aster.”
She stared at him.
Something inside her seemed to c***k.
“You knew?”
“Yes.”
“You knew there was an old Project Aster?”
“Yes.”
“And you watched me build it?”
Rajeev's face tightened.
“I watched you build your version of it.”
“My version?”
“Yes.”
Aarohi laughed bitterly.
“That's convenient.”
“Aarohi, listen to me.”
“No. You listen to me.”
She stepped closer.
“I spent years trying to prove that I could build something without your name.”
“You never needed to prove that to me.”
“Maybe not to you.”
Her voice trembled.
“But I needed to prove it to myself.”
Rajeev looked down.
Aarohi continued.
“Every time someone said I only had opportunities because I was your daughter, I ignored them.”
She pointed toward the photograph.
“And now I find out that the project I thought I created independently already existed inside your company.”
“It wasn't the same project.”
“How different?”
“Very different.”
“Then why was it called Aster?”
Rajeev didn't answer.
“Why?”
“I don't remember who chose the name.”
Aarohi stared at him.
“You don't remember?”
“It was twelve years ago.”
“But you remember everything else.”
“Aarohi—”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“You don't get to call me by that voice and expect me to calm down.”
Rajeev looked at her.
“What voice?”
“The voice you use when you're trying to protect me.”
He remained silent.
“And I'm tired of being protected from the truth.”
---
The Truth He Never Told Her
Rajeev slowly stood.
“There was a research initiative twelve years ago.”
Aarohi said nothing.
“We were studying supply-chain prediction systems.”
“Like Aster.”
“Yes.”
“Who created it?”
“A team.”
“Names.”
“Arman Sethi was one of them.”
“Who else?”
Rajeev hesitated.
“His research partner.”
“Name?”
“Kabir Sethi.”
Aarohi memorised the name.
“What happened to him?”
Rajeev's eyes shifted.
“He disappeared.”
Aarohi froze.
“Disappeared?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Three weeks before the project was terminated.”
“Why?”
“We don't know.”
“You don't know?”
“No.”
“Was there an investigation?”
“Yes.”
“Police?”
“Yes.”
“And what did they find?”
“That he had apparently left voluntarily.”
Aarohi stared at him.
“Apparently?”
Rajeev looked away.
“You don't believe that.”
“No.”
The answer was immediate.
Aarohi's anger suddenly became quieter.
“You knew he didn't leave.”
“I knew there were unanswered questions.”
“And you said nothing.”
“You were young.”
“I am not young anymore.”
“I know.”
“Then why didn't you tell me?”
Rajeev looked at his daughter.
“Because I wanted you to have a life that wasn't controlled by the things that happened before you.”
Aarohi's eyes filled with frustration.
“You don't get to decide which truth I can handle.”
“I was your father.”
“Exactly.”
Her voice broke slightly.
“That is why I trusted you.”
Rajeev went silent.
Aarohi turned away.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then she said quietly,
“You know what hurts the most?”
Rajeev looked at her.
“It isn't that you hid a business secret.”
She wiped the corner of her eye quickly and continued.
“It isn't even that you knew about the original project.”
She looked back at him.
“It is that I spent years telling myself that whatever I achieved was mine.”
Rajeev stepped toward her.
“It is yours.”
“Is it?”
“Yes.”
“How do I know?”
“Because you built it.”
“But the idea existed before me.”
“The idea existed.”
He paused.
“You didn't copy it.”
Aarohi's voice became bitter.
“How do you know?”
“Because I saw your work.”
“That isn't enough.”
“It should be.”
“It isn't!”
The room fell silent.
Aarohi looked at him, breathing heavily.
“I wanted one thing.”
“What?”
“To build something that didn't belong to the Kapoor name.”
Rajeev's expression softened.
“You did.”
“Then why didn't you tell me?”
“Because I was afraid.”
Aarohi stopped.
“Of what?”
“That the moment you knew about the old project, you would start looking into it.”
“And?”
“And you would eventually find the people connected to it.”
“What's wrong with that?”
“Some of those people are dangerous.”
Aarohi stared at him.
“Who?”
Rajeev didn't answer.
“Who?”
“I can't tell you.”
Aarohi stepped backward.
“Then we're done.”
“Aarohi.”
“No.”
She pointed toward the door.
“If you can't trust me with the truth, you can't ask me to trust you with my future.”
Rajeev stood there silently.
Then he said something that made her stop.
“I didn't hide it because I thought you were weak.”
Aarohi turned.
“I hid it because I knew exactly how determined you would become once you knew.”
She stared at him.
“You're my daughter.”
His voice softened.
“And I knew you would go after the truth even if it destroyed everything around you.”
Aarohi didn't respond.
Because somewhere inside her, she knew he was right.
And that frightened her more than anything else.
---
The Message
Her phone vibrated.
Aarohi looked down.
An unknown number.
«Ask him who signed the shutdown order.»
She looked at Rajeev.
“Who signed it?”
He didn't answer.
“Dad.”
“Mahesh Kapoor.”
Aarohi's eyes narrowed.
“Mr. Kapoor?”
“Yes.”
“The same person connected to Contract 47?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because I didn't want you connecting the two.”
Aarohi looked at him.
“Maybe they were always connected.”
Rajeev's expression became serious.
“Don't go any further.”
“Why?”
“Because you don't know what you're looking for.”
Aarohi stepped closer.
“No.”
She shook her head.
“For the first time, I think you don't know either.”
Rajeev looked at her.
That sentence hurt him.
She could see it.
But she couldn't take it back.
He walked toward the door.
Before leaving, he stopped.
“Aarohi.”
She didn't turn.
“I am sorry.”
Her eyes closed.
He left.
Only after the door shut did Aarohi finally allow herself to sit down.
She stared at the photograph.
The conflict inside her was no longer simply about business.
She still loved her father.
That hadn't changed.
But trust was different.
Love could survive secrets.
Trust struggled to survive unanswered questions.
---
Vikram's Discovery
The following morning, Vikram entered her office carrying an encrypted drive.
“I found something.”
Aarohi looked up.
“What?”
“A legacy archive connected to B-47.”
“Where?”
“An old server transferred from Kapoor Private Holdings when Aster Innovations was established.”
Aarohi stared at him.
“Open it.”
One folder appeared.
B47_ARCHIVE
Inside was a document.
ASTER_ORIGIN_01
The first page contained several names.
Rajeev Kapoor.
Mahesh Kapoor.
Arman Sethi.
Kabir Sethi.
Two researchers.
Then a seventh entry had been completely blacked out.
“Who removed the name?” Aarohi asked.
“I don't know.”
“When?”
“Recently.”
“How recently?”
Vikram checked the metadata.
“Yesterday.”
Aarohi's expression changed.
“Someone edited a twelve-year-old file yesterday?”
“Yes.”
“While we were investigating?”
“Yes.”
Aarohi stared at the screen.
Someone wasn't simply hiding the past.
Someone was reacting to their investigation.
Vikram opened another file.
ASTER_PROTOCOL_B47
A technical document appeared.
At the bottom was a warning:
SECONDARY AUTHORIZATION REQUIRED.
“There are two signatures,” Vikram said.
Aarohi leaned forward.
The first belonged to Mahesh Kapoor.
The second had been covered by a digital layer.
“Remove it.”
Vikram did.
The hidden signature appeared.
Aarohi froze.
Rajeev Kapoor.
She stared at it.
For several seconds, she couldn't speak.
Then the printer behind them suddenly started.
Neither of them had touched it.
A single sheet came out.
Vikram picked it up.
His face changed.
“What?”
He handed it to her.
It was another photograph.
The same conference room.
The same meeting.
But this time, the person standing behind the glass was visible.
Aarohi looked at the face.
Her blood ran cold.
She knew him.
“That's Kabir Sethi.”
Vikram stared at her.
“But Kabir disappeared twelve years ago.”
“I know.”
The photograph had been taken twelve years ago.
Kabir was alive in it.
And he was holding a folder marked:
SECONDARY AUTHORIZATION REQUIRED.
Aarohi's phone vibrated.
One final message appeared.
«You were right to question your father.»
Another appeared.
«But he isn't the person you should fear.»
A third followed.
«Kabir Sethi never disappeared.»
Aarohi stared at the screen.
Then came the final message.
«He has been waiting for you to find Aster.»
Aarohi slowly lowered her phone.
Vikram looked at her.
“What now?”
She looked at the photograph of Kabir.
Then at her father's hidden signature.
Then at the words PROJECT ASTER.
Her voice was quiet.
“Now we find Kabir.”
And somewhere, far beyond the walls of Aster Innovations, someone was already waiting for her to do exactly that.
Then Aarohi noticed something in the photograph that neither of them had seen before.
On the table beside Kabir's hand lay a small silver key.
Its tag bore a single number:
04.
Vikram zoomed in.
The key was not part of the old meeting.
It had been placed there recently.
Aarohi's phone vibrated again.
This time, the message contained only an address.
An abandoned railway station.
And beneath it:
«Come alone. Bring the key.»
Aarohi looked at Vikram.
“I don't have a key.”
Vikram slowly turned toward the photograph.
The silver key was no longer visible beside Kabir's hand.
Someone had removed it from the image.
Or someone had taken it.
Then the office lights went out.
In the darkness, a voice came from the corridor.
“Aarohi?”
It was her father's voice.
But Rajeev had left the building an hour ago.
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