Chapter 55: Chapter 52- CEO vs Sandal

Siara's pov-

The brother who once carried me on his shoulders, who spun me around until I giggled breathless, who held my tiny hands in his calloused ones,

Whispering promises that once felt unbreakable--Now looks at me with shattered eyes and asks, "Does that family still include my sister?"

What should I say?

Yes-because no matter how deep the wounds, No matter how much it aches, I can't forget the warmth of his arms, the way he wiped my tears, the way he made me feel safe.

Because I still recall the way he beamed at my smallest victories,

The way his pride in me shone brighter than the stars.

Because once upon a time, I was his whole world.

Or should I say No-because love alone does not heal scars,

Because wounds may fade, but their echoes remain.

Because the hands that once protected me, Were the same hands that let me go.

Because silence became my lullaby,

And loneliness built a home inside my chest. Because when I called out, no one answered. Because when I broke, no one came to piece me back together.

How do you answer when love and pain are the same?

When the past and present blur,

Leaving you stranded between forgiveness and the weight of betrayal?

How do you look into the eyes that once held your universe

And decide if they are still home-

Or just another place you no longer belong?

His grip on my hands was tight, desperate, his skin burning with the heat of alcohol. He was drunk-I could smell it, feel it-but he wasn't gone. Not fully. He was still in his senses, still drowning in something far worse than alcohol.

Regret.

Guilt.

"I thought I kept you safe by not trying to find you." His voice was hoarse, hollow, as if the words had been rotting inside him for years.

I lifted my gaze, locking my hollow, lifeless eyes onto his.

He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head like he was mocking his own existence. "Safe," he whispered, the word curling on his tongue like poison. His chest rose and fell unevenly, his breath heavy with grief.

Then, he scoffed, eyes burning with something between agony and self-hatred. "What a fucking bastard I am, pathetic, spineless coward. A worthless excuse for a brother." He let out another empty, humorless laugh, but there was no amusement, only a darkness that sat heavy between us. "You know what? Someone should just fucking kill me. Just put a damn bullet in my head and end this miserable existence, because what the fuck am I even living for?" He exhaled sharply, his fingers tightening around mine "Because there's nothing left for me to hold on to now."

I kept my gaze steady, studying him, searching for the weight of his words. Was it just drunken remorse? Or something deeper?

He broke. Right in front of me. His voice dropped, quiet, shaking. "Anya's brother wanted to kill you." His eyes found mine again, and this time, I saw it-the sheer, unbearable torment clawing inside him. "We thought we were protecting you. We thought if you stayed away, you'd be safe." He let out a trembling breath, his body swaying slightly.

"But what we didn't know..." He shut his eyes, as if forcing himself to say it. Then, when he opened them again, I saw the broken man-my brother. "What we didn't see-" His voice cracked, and a tear slipped down his cheek. His grip on me was almost painful now, as if trying to hold together what had already shattered.

"Was that...My sister was barely alive."

The words hung in the air between us, heavier than the silence, heavier than the years we had lost.

And for the first time in a long, long time- I saw my brother not as the one who left me, but as the one who was left behind too. But does it matter now?

He inhaled sharply, his voice barely above a whisper. "He found out about you when the Sehgals officially introduced you to the world." He paused, as if forcing himself to speak the next words. "He backed off... because your husband is shielding you."

The ground beneath me felt like it crumbled. My breath hitched, my existence splintering at the edges. What more truths are left to be uncovered? How many more secrets had been stitched into my wounds, How many more betrayals were waiting to sink their claws into my already broken soul?

How much more am I supposed to endure? Isn't it enough?

Haven't I suffered enough?

"You... you're a piece of my heart, Siara," he choked out, his voice cracking under the weight of his own grief. "My apologies, my guilt-nothing can justify what I did. It shouldn't. It never will."

His breath was ragged, his eyes red with the kind of pain that doesn't heal. "I can't even bear the thought of a single scratch on you, and-you... you tried to k-kill yourself."

"I should have been there to stop you!" His voice cracked at the end, like even his body couldn't withstand the weight of his regret.

I shook my head and looked at him with my usual expressionless face when I said,"Excuses."

I tilted my head, locking eyes with him, my tone laced with cold detachment. "Every. Single. Word. Is. An. Excuse. Tell me, Mr. Reyansh Malhotra, did you forget who you are? Did you forget the power you hold? Someone wanted to kill me-fine. But don't you and my other so-called protectors have the power to shield me?"

I let the silence stretch, watching as my words sliced through him, my eyes burning with unshed tears "Forget that. Tell me, do you not have enough power to at least find out what actually happened that night? Or was it just easier to believe I wasn't worth the fight?"

I stood up, "These pathetic excuses are just a coverup for what you did. You know life did taught me a lesson. Don't even trust your own shadow. I took it seriously."

I watched as my words shattered them, their breath uneven, regret painted in the tremble of their fingers. But regret wouldn't rewrite the past. Regret wouldn't unlive the years I spent suffocating. They all were drowning in guilt but I wasn't some saint draped in forgiveness, waiting to cleanse them of their sins.

I turned around and walked away, my steps slow but unyielding. The same park where my brothers once carried me home on their shoulders, where our laughter echoed around me like a promise of forever-now, I was leaving alone for the first time. Just the cold wind and the crushing silence of what once was.

I did grow up.

Not in the way they had hoped. Not in the way I had dreamed.

I grew up in the ruins they left behind.

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Next day-

Mahir's pov-

The conference hall was silent, save for the steady hum of the projector and the soft rustle of papers. A dozen executives sat around the long, polished table, their eyes trained on the screen, but my gaze flickered between the numbers, dissecting each figure with razor-sharp precision.

"Slide back to the previous graph," I ordered, my voice even, authoritative. The intern handling the presentation fumbled slightly before complying.

I leaned forward, fingers tapping against the table. "The projected revenue growth for the next quarter-these figures are optimistic, but optimism doesn't run a company, gentlemen. Facts do." My tone was calm but edged with steel. "Where is the risk assessment?"

One of the senior managers cleared his throat. "Sir, we have accounted for market fluctuations-"

"Not enough," I cut him off, my eyes locking onto his.

The tension in the room was suffocating, thick enough to choke on. No one dared to argue, no one even shifted in their seats. Their gazes flickered nervously between the screen and me, waiting, dreading.

But I wasn't in the mood for patience.

My fingers drummed once against the polished table, slow and deliberate, the only sound in the dead silence. "Is this what you call preparedness?" My voice was dangerously calm, laced with a quiet fury that sent a shiver through the room. "You expect me to approve a strategy that has more holes than a sinking ship?"

A few of them gulped. I could see it-the fear. They knew I wasn't in the mood to tolerate incompetence today.

I exhaled sharply, I didn't even look at the presentation anymore. My presence alone was enough to make them squirm. "I don't pay for half-baked plans and excuses," I continued, my tone dropping lower, colder. "You had weeks to get this right, and yet, here we are-wasting my time." I walked around the table, my gaze sweeping over them, watching as some averted their eyes, some clenched their jaws, and some simply sat frozen.

The suffocating silence in the conference hall remained unbroken-until the door creaked open.

My assistant stepped in cautiously, almost as if he feared interrupting the storm brewing in the room. "Sir," he said carefully, "Siara ma'am is here. She's waiting for you in your cabin...."

And just like that, the storm disappeared.

My hardened features softened in an instant. The cold fury in my eyes flickered out, replaced by something warmer, something dangerously close to fondness. My lips twitched, and before I could stop myself, a smile cracked through my usual ruthless exterior.

A real smile. My heart was pounding, thundering in my chest like an impatient drum. Even the mere mention of her name had done what no amount of pleading, strategizing, or bribing could-pulled me out of my temper like a lifeline.

The room stiffened-not from fear, but pure, unfiltered shock. Whispers spread like wildfire among the managers and employees, their disbelief echoing through the room.

"Where is our boss? It's not him."

"No way. We're hallucinating. Group delusion is a thing, right?"

"How the hell his wife cracked the code to break this rock?"

"This man fires people for breathing wrong, and now he's smiling? I need a raise just for witnessing this historic moment."

The murmurs continued, growing bolder. I heard every word. I could practically feel their wide-eyed stares drilling into me.

"Holy. Freaking. Shit. This devil, monster, arrogant, merciless, crazy, humorless, soul-sucking, cold-hearted, emotionless, non-speaking, fire-breathing, corporate overlord, destruction-wielding, walking nightmare brick of a man can… smile?"

Those particular praiseworthy words caught my attention. I turned slowly, eyebrow arching, my amusement barely concealed as I pinpointed the source for this masterpiece of insults.

A young woman—one of the newer recruits—sat frozen in her chair, her expression caught between terror and the horrifying realization that she had, in fact, just spoken out loud.

She froze.

Her eyes widened as if she’d just been caught stealing the crown jewels, and in the span of a second, her survival instincts kicked in. In the most graceless yet spectacular display of panic, she slid down her chair like a melting snowball on a mission to disappear from existence. But the real masterpiece? She grabbed a file—as if that flimsy stack of papers could somehow make her invisible—and plastered it over her face, shrinking behind it like a child caught sneaking cookies before dinner.

Amused, I raised an eyebrow, tilting my head ever so slightly, letting the silence stretch just enough to make her squirm. Interesting. She had a spine—reckless, wildly misplaced, but undeniably entertaining. The kind of audacity that either got you promoted… or permanently blacklisted.

I watched as she peeked over the edge of her file, probably assessing if she was about to be fired or buried alive. Definitely Shivay’s kind of humor. In fact… I should introduce them. They’d either get along disastrously well or reduce an entire room to ashes with their combined wit. Either way, it would be fun to watch.

I shook my head and turned to my assistant. As I reached the doorway, I paused just slightly, throwing a glance back at the shell-shocked room. "Have the revised strategy on my desk by the end of the day."

Then the same audacious girl muttered, not so softly again,"Khadoos"

I smirked slightly to myself. Bold move. I’d give her that.

--------

I adjusted my cufflinks, exhaling slowly as I unbuttoned the top of my shirt. I didn’t even know why she came. But the only thing that mattered was that she came.

As I pushed open the door to my cabin, my eyes immediately found her. And of course, the whole clan was there too—along with my dearest youngest brother in law, Avi.

But then, there she was—Siara, standing in the middle, gripping Shivay and Divya’s arms like she was trying to tame two feral creatures.

"Don’t touch anything, Shivay. Divya, that goes for you too." Her voice was firm "He will scold you if he finds out. And you know it—he knows everything."

I leaned against the doorframe, watching the scene unfold. Divya, my little troublemaker, had the audacity to put on an innocent face—like she wasn’t just two seconds away from messing with the settings on my chair to send me flying the moment I sat down. Under her breath, she muttered, “What is this? A business empire or a freaking dictatorship?”

Shivay, ever the partner-in-crime, dramatically sighed, “Exactly. Can’t even breathe in this place without getting an NDA signed.”

"He knows everything?" Kabir said, barely holding back his laughter. "Then why doesn’t he know that giving you different flowers every day won’t melt you Ice queen?"

Myra, ever the instigator, gasped dramatically. "Oh my god, YES! Like, is there a subscription service we don’t know about? ‘Flowers for the Icy Wife’ package? Premium edition with extra petals for extra rejections?"

Avya wiped away invisible tears, playing along. "We should all chip in. Help Bhai get a refund on his heartbreak."

I crossed my arms, clearing my throat just loud enough.

Shivay straightened up. Divya actually flinched. Kabir? That shameless man just grinned wider. The others? They just enjoyed the scene.

I arched an eyebrow. "I’d love to hear more about my delusions and subscriptions—please, continue."

Siara sighed. "I assure you, one day, I’m going to strangle them."

I shook my head "You’ll have to beat me to it."

My gaze shifted to Avi. That kid was standing by my desk, arms crossed, glaring daggers at the framed picture of Siara and me like it had personally offended him.

I raised an eyebrow. "Any Problem Avi?"

He scoffed, pointing at the picture accusingly. "Yeah. Why does your face get to be in this frame with my sister?"

I smirked, loosening my tie. "Because I married her."

Avi narrowed his eyes but didn't say anything. Just then, Avya’s voice cut through, pointing at the absolute disaster zone on my desk. "Bhai, what is this? Were you working on a geography project? Or is this… modern art?"

I followed her gaze—scissors, tape, charts, crumpled papers everywhere. A complete mess. Without missing a beat, I stepped forward, removing my coat with slow precision. "Get out. All of you. Only my wife stays."

For the first time in history, they actually listened. No protests, no witty comebacks—just shared glances and a dramatic exit.

As the door clicked shut, I turned to Siara, who was now eyeing the chaos beside my table with a perfectly arched brow. Her gaze flickered to me, then to the mess, then back to me. Judgment.

Without a word, I reached for the carefully folded creation hidden behind my desk—an origami bouquet.

I stepped closer, holding it out to her.

"For my wife," I said, my voice softer now.

Siara blinked, looking between me and the delicate paper flowers. "You... made this?"

I nodded, I expected a sarcastic remark, maybe even a sigh. But instead, she just stared at it, something unreadable flickering in her eyes. Whatever it was, she blinked twice and said "Rejected"

I blinked back. "Excuse me?"

She folded her arms, looking at me. "Rejected. Denied. Declined. Pick whichever synonym soothes your heart, Mr. Sehgal."

I let out a breath, shaking my head. "I again knew it. You know, my assistant was looking at me like I was committing a federal crime while I was learning this."

Her head tilted slightly. "Learning?"

"Yeah." I sighed handling her the rejected bouquet, crossing my arms. "I hired a professional origami artist."

She stared at the bouquet in her hands "You hired an origami instructor?"

"Yep." I frowned, remembering the man's overly enthusiastic pep talk. "

He said—" I deepened my voice in imitation, "‘Your wife is going to love this! Not just that, she will jump around happily!’"

I looked at Siara. Then at the origami bouquet. Then back at her, trying to find that trace of love and about jumping around, Is she a kangaroo that she'll jump around?

I squinted when I said "Love? Nope. Not at all. But—tell me, do I look like a man married to a kangaroo?"

Siara froze. I had about three seconds of peace before her thin patience finally snapped. Her expression turned murderous as she took off her scandal—I mean, sandal—and brandished it like a weapon. "Did you just call me a kangaroo, Mahir Sehgal?"

I was doomed. DOOMED.

I bolted, sprinting for my life as she came charging after me, one hand wielding her sandal, the other gripping the bouquet I had painstakingly arranged. "STOP, MAHIR!" she yelled, fury in her voice.

I cackled like a madman as I reached the door and dashed out. "YOU STOP, MAHIR KI BIWI!"

Behind me, I heard something whizzing through the air—thunk!—her sandal hit the wall right where my head had been a second ago.

"YOU HAVE A DEATH WISH, MAHIR SEHGAL!"

"I HAVE A SURVIVAL INSTINCT, SIARA SEHGAL!"

And just when I thought it couldn’t get worse, my entire workforce turned to witness the spectacle—their CEO being hunted down by his wife.

"Siara, we’re in a corporate building! NOT a WWE ring! Maaf kardo yaar sorry." I yelped.

(Forgive me)

Just when Siara finally stopped her rampage, I turned around—biggest mistake of my life. There stood Dad. Chachu. And an entire audience of managers, executives, and employees—all staring.

Their CEO, breathless. His wife, barefoot, holding a crumpled origami bouquet.

And then, Siara—dashed straight to Dad and ratted me out. "Dad! He called me a kangaroo!"

Every standing person—my executives, senior managers, employees who should’ve been WORKING—suddenly became professionals at stifling laughter.

One guy choked on his own saliva. Another turned to the whiteboard and pretended to take notes on what? My funeral arrangements? Dad? Dad just closed his eyes and breathed very, very slowly. But then he chuckled.

Chachu, meanwhile, had already lost his battle—he turned around, shaking, shoulders trembling with silent laughter.

I pointed at Siara, voice firm. "SHE IS LYING!"

Dad raised a brow.

I stood my ground—for exactly two seconds. Then I said "I never called her a kangaroo" A flicker of non- existent hope sparked in Dad’s eyes, only to die when I stupidly added "I just asked if I’m the husband of one."

Dad exhaled—long, slow, like he was releasing all expectations he ever had of me. Then, without sparing me another glance, he gently took Siara’s hand and said, "He is an idiot. Come on, let’s take you to eat something."

And with that, they left.

Leaving behind Me and my utterly destroyed, once-scary CEO image.