Sleep didn't come easily.
The house made too many quiet sounds. Air moving. Distant steps. Doors she couldn't see.
Aarohi lay on the bed staring at the ceiling, Kabir's words circling her thoughts.
There are people who know you exist.
Her phone vibrated.
A call.
The hospital.
She sat up instantly.
"Yes?"
"Ms. Mehra," a nurse said gently. "Your mother asked for you. She's awake."
"I'm coming."
"No need," the nurse replied. "She's been informed you're unavailable tonight. But there's… something else."
A pause.
"The Raichand Medical Board has taken over her case."
Aarohi's breath caught. "Taken over?"
"A senior team arrived an hour ago. They've changed her room. Her doctor. Even her treatment plan. Everything is now under the Raichand Health Network."
Aarohi slid off the bed.
"Who approved that?" she asked.
There was a soft sound on the line, almost like surprise.
"You did," the nurse said. "Your name is listed under the authorization. With Mr. Raichand's signature."
The call ended.
Aarohi stood still, phone in her hand.
She hadn't signed anything.
She walked out of her room.
The house lights were dim. Most doors closed.
She followed the corridor she remembered. Past the staircase. Toward the restricted wing.
A red light glowed near the door.
She hesitated only once before knocking.
No answer.
She knocked again.
The door opened.
Kabir stood there, sleeves rolled up again, phone in one hand, tablet on the desk behind him.
"You're awake," he said.
"You moved my mother," Aarohi said.
"Yes."
"You changed her doctors."
"Yes."
"You signed for me."
"Yes."
Each word landed like a stone.
"You had no right," she said.
Kabir looked at her steadily.
"I had every right," he replied. "You became my responsibility when you signed that contract."
"She is not part of your world."
"She is now under my protection," Kabir said. "Which is more than this world usually offers."
"That wasn't your decision to make."
"It was," he said, "because time matters. And hesitation costs lives."
The truth in his voice disturbed her more than the control.
"You could have told me."
"I could have," Kabir agreed. "I didn't."
Silence stretched between them.
Aarohi felt heat behind her eyes. She pushed it back.
"You don't own me," she said.
Kabir stepped closer.
He didn't touch her.
But she felt him.
"I don't want to," he said quietly. "But I will not lose people once they fall under my name."
She met his gaze.
"And how many people have you lost?" she asked.
Something shifted.
Fast.
Controlled.
Gone.
"Enough," he said.
A notification sounded from his tablet.
He turned, scanned the screen.
Then he went still.
"Aarohi," he said slowly, "what was your surname before Mehra?"
Her stomach tightened.
"Why?" she asked.
Kabir turned the tablet toward her.
On the screen was a document.
Old.
Stamped.
At the top was a name she hadn't used in years.
Her real one.
Kabir looked at her.
"Because," he said, "this file connects you to a project that disappeared from one of my private research facilities."
The room felt colder.
"What project?" she asked.
Kabir's eyes didn't leave her face.
"One," he said, "that people are still willing to kill for."