“Prepare the conference room,” I say quietly, voice steady. “Call everyone who was present at that party. Every single one of them. 3 PM sharp.”
She blinks. “Everyone?”
“Everyone.”
“But—”
“No one insults someone who works for me and walks away untouched,” I say, looking her dead in the eye. “Especially not her.”
Radha swallows and nods. “Understood, sir.”
“Dismissed.”
The door shuts behind her, and I sit down again, slowly.
I should get back to the numbers on my screen. The quarterly reports. The calls are waiting. But I can’t. Not until this is dealt with.
It’s been a while since I reminded people who I am.
Maybe I’ve been too quiet lately. Too... distracted.
I guess it’s time I fixed this.
You don’t mess with Aditi.
You don’t get to drag her name through filth.
And you definitely don’t get to make her cry and pretend like nothing happened.
Not under my roof.
Not on my watch.
CHAPTER 23
ABHIMAAN
There’s a particular kind of silence in a room when people know something’s about to go down. Not the usual Monday meeting sort of hush—this is tighter and thicker, and the one scream says that one wrong move will cost them everything, and it will. It's like the tension before a thunderstorm. I can feel it settle as I step into the meeting room, the low hum of conversation evaporating like mist in sunlight.
I don’t sit. I don’t nod. I just scan the room slowly—faces I might have passed in the hallways, faces I’ve hired, promoted. And mostly I’ve barely been spoken to. They all look back at me, wide-eyed, backs a little straighter. Some interns fidget in their seats. I can almost hear their pulses. Good.
Tushar is seated near the middle. Casual. Elbows on the table. Arrogant little shit. He doesn’t stand until I call him out.
“Tushar.”
His name slices through the quiet.
He startles, eyes jerking toward me. I take a step forward, slow and deliberate.
“Stand up.”
He hesitates but eventually rises, palms smoothing down his already-pressed shirt. Trying to act unaffected. But I see it. The twitch in his jaw. The slight tremble in his fingers.
“Repeat what you said to her.” My voice is calm, too calm. “Go on. If you’re so confident, say it here. Say it to me.”
He opens his mouth. Nothing comes out.
I wait. Five seconds. Ten.
