Episode 44 : "Control & Cracks"
1699 Words
(Veer’s POV)
The Empire Never Rests, But My Mind Isn’t Mine
The glass walls of my office gleamed under the morning light, just like the rest of the top floor that belonged to me. Clean. Controlled. Silent.
Exactly how I liked it.
The entire floor shifted the moment the elevator doors opened and I stepped out. Heads turned. People stood.
“Good morning, Sir.”
Their voices echoed in a chorus, mechanical and respectful—trained obedience.
I didn’t respond. I never did.
I didn’t need to. My presence was enough.
My secretary, Tanya, strutted toward me—hips swinging like a pendulum, heels clicking with practiced rhythm. She had a tray in her hands, and her shirt… unbuttoned one extra notch than yesterday. Her way of saying she was available. Desperate. Predictable.
She always tried.
Wasted effort.
“Your coffee, Sir.” She smiled, voice soft like honey.
I stared at the cup for a heartbeat too long.
Then something inside me snapped.
I grabbed the cup—and flung it.
The porcelain shattered against the glass wall, brown liquid dripping down like spilt rage.
Tanya gasped, stepping back.
“Out,” I said, voice ice-cold. “Clear your desk. You’re done here.”
“Sir, I—”
“One minute.”
She froze. Her face paled. But she didn’t argue. No one ever does.
A janitor rushed in moments later, silently cleaning the mess. I walked past the shards, not sparing them a glance, and entered my office.
The door clicked shut behind me.
Silence.
I leaned back in my chair, my fingers lacing together, my eyes staring through the floor-to-ceiling glass at the world below.
Power.
Control.
Dominance.
This city obeyed me.
My name made people tremble. Board members bowed to me. Rivals feared me. I had everything.
And yet—my mind was not my own today.
Not since the moment I woke up.
Not since I saw her again.
Neha.
Curled on the balcony floor like a crumpled flower.
Eyes hollow. Skin bruised.
She had no right to look that fragile. That broken.
She had no right to crawl under my skin.
But she had.
I could still hear the way she whispered my name in fear. I could still see the defiance that flickered briefly in her gaze before I crushed it.
I should’ve been satisfied. She married me. I won.
Then why was my chest this heavy?
Why did her silence feel louder than her screams?
I slammed my hand on the desk, snapping out of it. Focus, Veer. There was no room for weakness here.
My assistant buzzed through the intercom.
“Sir, the board members are waiting for the quarterly meeting.”
“Give me five.”
“Yes, Sir.”
I stood and walked to the mirror on the far side of the room. Fixed my collar. Adjusted my cuffs. My reflection looked perfect—tailored black suit, pristine shirt, ruthless eyes.
But something was off.
I reached into my pocket and pulled out the small, delicate ring I’d confiscated from Neha the night she resisted. A cheap, silver thing.
I kept it.
Now, it sat in my hand like a curse.
I curled my fingers around it tightly, my knuckles whitening. My jaw clenched.
She would bend. She would break.
Or she would burn.
But I wouldn't let her go.
Not until I understood why she haunted me like this.
And not until I made her need me.
Even if I had to destroy every piece of her to rebuild her as mine.
---
At Board Meeting
The boardroom buzzed with numbers, charts, projections—voices layered with formality and fear. All eyes turned to me as I entered, the late morning sun casting my shadow across the marble floor like a crown of authority.
I took my seat at the head of the long glass table. No greetings. No pleasantries.
Just decisions.
One after another, I attended the meetings—Marketing, Expansion, Security, Finance. The directors stuttered through their presentations, anxious not to displease me. Every time one of them paused for input, I gave short, cold commands. No need for lengthy analysis. I already knew what needed to be done. I had built this empire brick by brick with my own blood.
But today, I wasn’t present—not fully.
Because behind every report, every blinking light on the projector… her image bled through.
Neha.
Her eyes. Her trembling hands. Her silence.
The moment the last board member left and the door shut behind him, I loosened my tie and walked toward the control panel behind my office desk. A hidden drawer opened beneath my fingerprint scan. I pulled out a sleek black tablet and tapped into the mansion’s security footage—the private feed only I had access to.
Camera 7. Main Hall.
I leaned against the glass window, watching.
There she was.
On her knees. Scrubbing the marble floor with a handkerchief far too small for the task. Her posture bent, skin red from friction, breath labored. Her hair clung to her face in strands damp with sweat. No maids helped her. They dared not.
Ruhani's orders had been precise. And I had allowed them.
Every vase in the corridor was accidentally knocked over. Papers, mud-streaked footprints, shattered glasses—each mess an intentional cruelty.
Neha didn’t complain. Didn’t cry.
But I could see the fatigue in her limbs.
The quiet ache in her eyes.
The way her hand trembled every time she squeezed the rag.
She paused for a second, resting her forehead against the floor. Just to breathe.
I should have felt satisfied.
This is what she deserved, right?
I should have looked away.
But I didn’t.
Instead… I zoomed in.
Her lips moved. Whispering something to herself. Maybe a prayer. Maybe a plea. Maybe my name.
I turned the volume up slightly, isolating the feed. I heard a single broken word escape her:
“Why…?”
Something twisted in my chest—tight and sharp.
I clenched the tablet so hard I nearly cracked the screen.
Why?
Because you did something you shouldn’t have.
Because you tried to walk away.
Because you made me feel something I never wanted to feel again.
I turned off the feed abruptly.
Too dangerous.
My reflection in the glass window looked back at me—cold, controlled, unreadable. But inside, I wasn’t composed. I wasn’t calm.
She was rotting in her private hell—just as I intended.
And still, she was the only thing on my mind.
I walked back to my desk, but didn’t sit.
The coffee stain on the glass wall from earlier was now gone. Tanya’s desk outside my office was empty.
Everything was in place again.
Everything… but me.
I came back to the mansion late in the evening, the heavy scent of night jasmine barely able to mask the underlying coldness that now haunted the halls.
Everything felt silent, too silent.
As I walked through the marble corridor, the distant sound of something being scrubbed echoed faintly—harsh strokes on stone. I followed it.
And there she was.
Neha.
Kneeling on the floor in the grand hall, a tiny handkerchief clenched in her fist, scrubbing the polished tiles like her life depended on it.
Her body trembled. Her skin looked ghostly pale under the chandelier’s golden light. Her lips—dry and cracked. Her eyes—sunken, empty, but still… stubbornly alive.
I stopped at the edge of the staircase, watching.
She didn’t look up. She kept cleaning.
I don’t know what it was in that moment—the hollowness in her movement, the way her hair stuck to her damp forehead, or the way her knees had started to bruise from crawling—but something twisted in my chest.
“Mary,” I called out sharply.
She came out from the servant quarters instantly, her hands wiping off flour.
“Yes, sir?”
“Give her a slice of bread,” I said flatly, eyes still on Neha. “She looks like she’s going to faint.”
Mary hesitated, clutching her apron. “Sir… please don’t mind… but… she hasn’t eaten anything since yesterday morning. At least let me give her something more.”
My head snapped toward her. “What?”
“She’s been cleaning non-stop. Barely even drank water. She… she didn’t say anything. Just kept working. I tried to offer something in the afternoon, but she refused… maybe she thought she wasn’t allowed to.”
I didn’t respond. My jaw clenched. I didn’t know whether I was more shocked that Mary disobeyed or that Neha followed orders so blindly.
Before I could react, Mary turned and ran—past me, barefoot and frantic—and reached Neha.
She knelt beside her, grabbing her arm. “Beta… enough,” she whispered. “Come with me. Please.”
Neha didn’t even protest. She just nodded weakly, her legs barely able to hold her up as Mary helped her into the kitchen.
I stood there, frozen. Watching. Feeling something stir deep within me that I didn’t want to name.
Mary made her sit down, poured water into a glass, and tore the bread into small pieces like she was feeding a child. Neha didn’t speak. She just ate in slow silence, like she’d forgotten what food tasted like.
I looked away.
My voice came out low, cold, trying to kill whatever emotion had risen in my chest. “Send her to my room after this.”
Mary turned around, her eyes wet with some emotion I didn’t want to name—disgust? Pity? Disappointment?
She didn’t say a word. Just nodded and resumed feeding Neha, as if she knew better than to speak when my mask was slipping.
I went upstairs, the shadows clinging to my footsteps as I entered my room.
She would come.
Because I had asked for her.
And because now, whether I liked it or not… I had broken her enough that she had no choice.
But as I sat down in the armchair facing the fireplace, a strange thought stabbed me in the gut.
Why didn’t it feel like victory anymore?
- Writer
