The apartment in Delhi wasn't a home; it was a fortress of glass and steel overlooking the fog-covered Yamuna. Kabir stood by the window, his silhouette sharp against the grey morning. He hadn't slept. He was still wearing the same shirt from the engagement party, now wrinkled and stained with the ghosts of last night.
"They took the servers, Aria," Kabir said, his voice raspy. "Khanna just informed me. Natasha’s lawyers didn't just lock the office; they wiped the digital archives of Horizon Publishing. Every manuscript, every draft... gone."
I felt a cold shiver run down my spine. "Even the 'London Memoirs'?"
"Everything." He turned to face me. "The Singhanias are providing us with this place and a new legal team, but they want their pound of flesh. They’ve scheduled a press conference for tomorrow. They want me to publicly denounce Natasha’s father."
"If you do that, there’s no turning back," I whispered, walking over to him. "It’s not just a breakup anymore. It’s a war."
"It was always a war, Aria. I was just the only one trying to play fair." He reached out, his thumb tracing the dark circles under my eyes. "I brought you into this mess. You should be in Mumbai, preparing for your book launch, not hiding in a safe house in Delhi."
"I am exactly where I need to be," I said firmly, though my hands were shaking.
Just then, a sleek black laptop on the coffee table beeped. A single email had bypassed the Singhania encryption. No subject. Just an attachment.
I opened it. It was a photo taken ten minutes ago. It showed me and Kabir standing by the window of this 'secret' apartment, seen through a long-distance lens. Below it were four words:
"I see you, Kabir."
The glass cage wasn't as safe as we thought.