Chapter 20: Ashes Before the Rise
764 Words
The downfall of Lina Design & Co. did not come loudly.
It came quietly—like doors closing one by one.
Contracts were withdrawn. Meetings were canceled. Calls went unanswered. Investors who once praised Lina’s vision suddenly spoke in cold, professional tones, citing “reputation risks” and “unstable leadership.”
But Lina did not fight it.
She did not beg.
She did not even cry over it.
Sitting in her room at her mother’s house, Lina stared at the ceiling, numb. The company that once defined her, the dream she had built with blood and sleepless nights, was slipping through her fingers.
Yet strangely, her heart felt lighter.
I don’t want anything that ties me to Arjun anymore, she thought.
He had promised her.
He had looked into her eyes and sworn that he would always believe her.
But when it mattered most—he hadn’t.
One by one, every investor pulled out.
Then, something unexpected happened.
An email arrived.
A private acquisition proposal.
The sender was unknown. The company name unfamiliar. The offer, however, was staggering—an amount so large it could secure Lina’s life ten times over. Not only that, the buyer promised her a monthly payout, regardless of whether she worked again.
Lina read the email twice.
Then three times.
The company—the very thing that had held her and Arjun together—was being offered a clean ending.
That night, Lina made her decision.
She picked up her phone and called her personal assistant.
“Pack your things,” Lina said calmly. “Tomorrow, the company changes hands.”
There was silence on the other end.
“Boss… are you sure?” her assistant asked softly.
“Yes,” Lina replied. “I’m letting it go.”
The assistant hesitated, then said firmly, “Wherever you go, I’ll follow.”
Lina closed her eyes.
That loyalty—quiet, unshaken—meant more to her than all the investors who had abandoned her.
The next morning, Lina signed the papers.
Just like that, Lina Design & Co. was no longer hers.
She walked out without looking back.
At home, Savriti was waiting.
“Mother,” Lina said, kneeling beside her. “I’ve lost everything.”
Savriti cupped her daughter’s face gently. “No,” she said with calm certainty. “You’ve only lost what didn’t deserve you.”
Lina’s eyes filled with tears.
“I will rise again,” Lina promised. “From nothing, if I must.”
Savriti smiled. “I know my daughter.”
---
Across the city, Arjun’s world was beginning to crack.
An email arrived in his inbox.
No subject line.
Just an attachment.
A video.
His heart pounded as he opened it.
The screen showed the staircase at Malhotra House. The angle was clear. Too clear.
He watched in silence as Shalini Malhotra stood near the railing… looked around… and deliberately threw herself backward.
No Lina.
No push.
No accident.
Arjun’s hands trembled.
His chest tightened.
He watched it again.
And again.
“This… this can’t be…” he whispered.
Without changing his clothes, Arjun rushed to the hospital.
Shalini was sitting up, sipping tea when he entered.
“Mother,” Arjun said, his voice shaking with rage and pain. “How dare you?”
She looked startled. “What have I done now?”
“You fell by yourself,” he said, throwing his phone onto the bed. “You framed Lina.”
Shalini’s face hardened.
“Did Lina tell you this?” she snapped. “She’s lying—”
“Mother!” Arjun shouted. “It has been one month. One month since I last saw Lina.”
His voice broke.
“I stood by you against my own wife. I humiliated her. I destroyed her reputation. And you—” his breath hitched “—you betrayed me.”
Shalini turned her face away.
“She wasn’t good enough for you,” she said coldly. “I did what I had to do.”
Arjun staggered back as if struck.
Memories flooded him—Lina crying in his arms, Lina begging him to believe her, Lina promising him honesty.
He remembered her words.
Trust me, Arjun.
And how easily he had let doubt win.
Arjun sank into a chair, his head in his hands.
“I broke her,” he whispered.
Tears he had held back for weeks finally fell.
For the first time, Arjun Malhotra truly understood—
He had lost the woman he loved.
And this time, no amount of power, money, or regret could undo it.
- Writer
