Falling Destiny

Episode 8 : "The Shadow beneath the laughter"

(Rhea’s POV)

The grand room was dressed in joy—laughter swirled like glitter in the air, and sunlight poured through the tall windows, spilling over velvet curtains and polished floors. Fresh roses scented the corners, and the soft, sugary aroma of buttercream cake floated from the dessert table. Every inch of the space had been carefully arranged for one thing: Pari’s birthday.

My little girl. My entire universe.

I stood near the edge of the crowd, watching Denver twirl her in circles, her laughter ringing out like bells—pure and untouched by the darkness this world so often brings. Her dress fluttered around her like petals in the wind, and her tiny fingers clung to her father’s shoulders with absolute trust.

I should have been happy. I should have been soaking in the moment. But the familiar weight returned—the cold, crawling sensation under my ribs. The whisper of instinct, the chill that doesn’t come from wind or ice, but from somewhere deeper.

Danger.

It wasn’t new. Life with Denver Knight had taught me many things—how to smile through scrutiny, how to recognize hidden threats dressed in suits, and most importantly, how to listen when your gut whispers, something isn’t right.

So I listened.

I stepped away from the party. My heels clicked softly against the marble, muffled by the laughter and music. The guests didn’t notice my departure, too absorbed in clinking glasses and conversations. But one person did.

“Where are you going?” Ruhani’s voice halted me, her hand curling gently around my wrist.

I met her eyes. Wary, sharp—always watching, always calculating. She wasn’t just Denver’s sister. She was his shadow. And mine.

“Just need some fresh air,” I replied, trying to keep my voice light.

She didn’t believe me. Her fingers lingered a second longer before she let go, but she didn’t press. Ruhani knew better than to ask questions in public.

As I pushed open the side door, warm sunlight poured over me like honey. It should have comforted me. It didn’t.

The cold inside me didn’t budge.

The back garden was calm. Too calm. The guards stood in their usual posts, dressed in black with expressions like stone. The cameras on the corners rotated with mechanical precision. Birds chirped somewhere near the hedge. A gardener trimmed a rosebush in the distance.

Everything seemed...normal.

But my eyes kept scanning. Left. Right. Under the patio chairs. Over the balcony rails. And then—

There.

A flash of black under the moss-covered lion statue near the edge of the stone path. Just barely visible, tucked beneath the aged pedestal. Like a whisper hiding in plain sight.

I walked slowly, pretending to fix my dress hem. My pulse drummed against my throat. I crouched, fingers trembling slightly, and pulled the envelope free.

It was matte black. No seal. No name. Just a folded note inside, as if whoever left it had all the time in the world to craft a nightmare.

> “Your fairy tale has an ending too, Mrs. Knight. Be ready.”

I stared at the words. My chest tightened.

This wasn’t about Denver. This wasn’t about money or the empire or the enemies we made on the climb to the top. This wasn’t a message to the Knight family.

This was for me.

And for Pari.

I folded the note carefully and slipped it into the hidden pocket of my dress. My fingers brushed against the satin lining, but my thoughts were already spiraling.

This was no bluff. This wasn’t a prank or a scare tactic.

This was personal.

I turned on steady legs and walked back into the house, masking my heartbeat with a smile. I wouldn’t let anyone see. Especially not on Pari’s birthday.

As soon as I stepped inside, I saw Veer across the room. His eyes locked on mine instantly. He’d seen the difference. He always did. His smile vanished, replaced with a sharp awareness, the kind that only men trained in blood and loyalty carry.

He moved through the crowd like a ghost. “What happened?” he asked quietly, voice barely above a whisper.

I leaned closer. “Later.”

His nod was small but decisive. I knew he’d already made a plan.

Still smiling for the crowd, I moved toward the cake table. Pari’s hands were covered in frosting, and she was giggling with joy. The note in my pocket burned like fire.

Whoever sent it had made one thing very, very clear:

They weren’t just watching me.

They were waiting.

---

(Denver’s POV)

I’d always known how to read a room. You don’t survive in my world by missing the quiet details.

So the second Rhea returned, I saw it.

Her posture was too perfect. Her steps too slow. Her smile—the one that usually curled like silk across her lips—was taut. Performed.

I put down my glass mid-toast and moved through the crowd. Veer met me halfway, already alert.

“What is it?” I asked, not bothering to soften the steel in my tone.

“She found something outside. Said she’ll talk later.”

I clenched my jaw. “Did you see what?”

He shook his head once. “No. But she looked shaken.”

I glanced at her. Rhea was with Pari now, brushing a lock of hair from her forehead, smiling down at her with the kind of love I could never replicate. But even from across the room, I could see the tension in her shoulders.

I looked around. Nothing was out of place—yet. But that’s exactly how the worst kinds of threats work.

Unseen. Until it’s too late.

“Stay with her,” I told Veer. “And no one—no one—goes near Pari unless I approve it.”

“Understood,” Veer said instantly.

My eyes returned to my daughter. She was glowing. Her cheeks flushed pink, her eyes filled with excitement as she blew out five candles in one breath.

And still, somewhere in the back of my mind, I heard the crackle of a fuse being lit.

Someone was testing our boundaries.

Someone was reminding me that safety is an illusion.

They’d made the worst mistake possible.

They had touched my family.

And now?

They wouldn’t live to regret it.

---

(Sanchit’s POV)

I stood at the far end of the room, a drink in my hand I hadn’t sipped, my eyes following Rhea’s every move.

She looked radiant. Calculated. But distracted.

I watched Rhea’s face as she read it, and I knew.

This wasn’t random.

This wasn’t just a warning.

This was a declaration.

From someone none of us ever thought would return.

If I was right—and God, I hoped I wasn’t—then we weren’t just dealing with a ghost.

We were dealing with a storm.

And every secret, every sin we buried six feet under, was about to claw its way back into the light.

Again.