5. The Mask Behind the Glass

The next morning, exhaustion clung to me, a deep ache in my bones, a physical manifestation of yesterday’s chaos. The memories of the forced wedding, the betrayal, the chilling weight of the mangalsutra—even now, after I’d ripped it off and discarded it—lingered like shadows in my mind.

Still, routine was my anchor. Muscle memory took over. Shower. Breakfast, a silent, almost tasteless affair. Dressed for the office in my sharpest suit, my armor.

And then it hit me again—like a brutal punch to the gut. I was married. Married to a man I had never imagined sharing even a conversation with, let alone vows. A man I despised, fiercely competed with, and had now sworn to destroy.

But I tucked that thought away, deep and cold. There was no space for distractions. Today was about consequences.

I reached my office and stepped into my cabin—the one with the glass wall that opened up to the sprawling city skyline. To most, it was a prime real estate choice. What no one knew, not my family, not even the employees who populated this building, was the deeper truth: I didn’t just work here.

I owned it.

Zestbase Technologies—the world’s largest tech empire, a colossal shadow corporation built in plain sight. And I, Avya Mane, was its CEO.

But to the world, to the countless people who walked these halls, I was just another face in the crowd. Just an employee in a cubicle. A carefully constructed illusion.

Only one man knew the full, intricate truth: Aviral Desai. My secretary, my loyal shadow, and the public face of the company. He was my shield in public, deflecting attention, and my sword in the dark, executing my will. I had found him during his lowest phase—broke, desperate, fighting for his mother’s life. I paid for her treatment, for her complete recovery. In return, I asked for only one thing: unwavering, absolute loyalty. He gave it without question, and I kept my promise—ensuring neither he nor his mother would ever suffer again.

A soft, precise knock pulled me from my thoughts. Aviral stepped in, his sharp eyes scanning me with quiet concern, sensing the raw edge beneath my usual composure. He spotted the faint, almost invisible smear where the sindoor had been. His expression tightened.

"You're in early," he noted, his voice low. Then, without preamble, he asked, "You really declared bankruptcy for Zenith Technology’s Mumbai branch overnight?"

I met his gaze, my eyes cold, unwavering. "You need to know everything now."

So I told him. Every detail. The wedding. The gun. The forced vows, my defiant exit. The utter humiliation. And finally... the truth, unveiled in stark, clinical terms.

That the man I was now married to—Riaan Malhotra, CEO of Zenith Tech—wasn’t just my rival. He was now, legally, my husband. And my target.

Aviral’s face went through a rapid transformation: shock first, then a flash of protective anger, followed by chilling comprehension. He knew the depths of my strategic mind, the ruthlessness beneath my calm.

"He doesn't know?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

I smiled coldly, a hint of dark satisfaction in my eyes. "He doesn't even suspect. The woman he's hunting, the CEO he's vowed to destroy… is now the woman he married. And she just declared the bankruptcy of his Mumbai branch before dawn broke."

"And you’re okay with this?" he asked tightly, his protective side rising, a subtle tremor in his voice.

"I'm going to enjoy every second of it," I replied, my voice laced with steel. He was like a brother, and I knew he wanted to protect me, but this was my war. And I had just fired the first, devastating shot.

I shifted the topic, the subtle change in my voice signaling the professional transition. "How’s your mother?"

His expression softened instantly, the anger melting away. "Much better. She asked about you."

I nodded, pleased. "Good. Let’s keep it that way."

After a few final, precise updates on ongoing projects – a seamless transition into my public persona – I walked out of the CEO office. I slipped back into the shadows, into my unassuming cubicle in the main office, just another employee. This was the life I showed the world, the life my family believed I lived: a successful, driven professional, but still just an employee.

You may wonder why I lived this double life. Because some parasites only revealed themselves in comfort. I had managers and team leads abusing power, blackmailing juniors, even selling internal data to rival firms. I had vowed to purge every one of them from the system, without them ever knowing the hand that struck them down.

Today, my eyes caught two such vultures again, bullying a new intern in the hallway. Within seconds, a discreet message was sent to Aviral. He arrived like lightning and fired them both on the spot. This was my company. No one would suffer here. Not on my watch.

Work ended late. I walked out, just as I always did. Anonymous in my power, calm in my fury, the memory of my wedding day fueling every silent step.

But today wasn’t like every day.

Standing by a sleek black car outside the gates was him.

Riaan.

My husband.

Our eyes met across the fading light. His jaw clenched. He stepped forward.

"We need to talk," he said, his voice firm, tinged with a new, dangerous curiosity.

I didn't flinch. "Fine. Let's talk."

Because I wanted to hear what he had to say. And he had no idea who he was really speaking to.

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