That night, Devandra sat in his vast office. The glass walls behind him framed the glittering skyline of the city, yet his eyes were fixed on nothing but the fury boiling inside. His fist pressed hard against the desk, jaw clenched tight.

Raga’s report echoed in his mind.

“Vania has been seen several times with Arga. Not just for work discussions—they seemed… close.”

That word—close—cut sharper than any blade.

“Arga…” Devandra muttered, his voice low, almost a growl. “He thinks he can take what belongs to me?”

He pushed himself up abruptly, pacing back and forth across the polished floor with heavy steps. His anger was not only about the...