Kartavya Raizada’s POV

I instructed the driver to let the watchman go for now. She had already entered the company, and a few minutes later, I followed.

There was no main guard with me this time. The gate opened immediately for me. I walked inside without breaking stride and headed straight toward the lift.

That’s when I saw her again.

She was already inside the lift.

I stepped in, the doors closing behind me with a soft metallic thud. The confined space sharpened everything. Her presence. Her silence. Her confidence.

I studied her openly.

She was beautiful. Not the kind that screams for attention, but the kind that settles quietly into your vision and refuses to leave. Her skin looked feather-light, neither too pale nor too dark, balanced perfectly, as if the light itself had decided to be gentle with her face. The long suit she wore suited her effortlessly, the dupatta resting loosely around her neck. A bag hung from her shoulder, likely a laptop bag. She carried herself neatly, composed, alert.

She noticed me watching.

Her eyes met mine, sharp and questioning, as if silently asking who I thought I was to stare at her like that. Before I could speak, her expression changed, guarded.

I realized she probably thought I was just another employee.

I almost told her the truth. That I was her boss. That this company answered to me.

But I didn’t.

Instead, I smiled, tight-lipped.

She rolled her eyes.

If anyone else had dared to roll their eyes at me, I would have ripped that arrogance out of them without a second thought. But when she did it, something strange happened.

My heart felt… amused.

Satisfied.

She asked casually whether I was late today or if I was late every day.

I replied that today was the only time.

I didn’t believe her. Her face tried to look honest, but something didn’t sit right. So I asked again, calmly, whether the watchman had stopped her at the gate, since security was tight today.

She hesitated.

Her fingers fidgeted, betraying her nervousness. Then, as if she gathered her courage in one breath, she looked straight at me and said,

“Tumse kya lena-dena? Tumhein kyun bataun?”

What business is it of yours? Why should I tell you?

I stood still, stunned.

No employee had ever spoken to me like that. Ever. My reputation wasn’t built on kindness alone, but discipline and authority. Anger rose instantly to my face.

But then I looked at her again.

And the anger faded.

She asked which department I belonged to, saying she had never seen me before.

I wanted to say that I belonged to every department. That the entire company ultimately answered to me. But instead, I replied in a dry, sarcastic tone,

“You’ll know which department I’m from… very soon.”

Before she could respond, the lift doors opened.

She stepped out.

I called after her lightly, teasingly, “Hope the CEO doesn’t notice you. Best of luck.”

I knew luck wouldn’t be on her side.

She turned back, her eyes blazing, and shot back, “If the CEO notices me, I’ll tell him your name too.”

The doors closed.

I laughed quietly.

Confidence. Fire. Recklessness.

If she was someone who fell, she wouldn’t fall alone. She would drag everyone down with her.

A dangerous kind of woman.

Back in my cabin, I barely had time to settle when Shesh, my personal assistant, entered.

I asked him to bring the girl to my cabin later and also to get me her complete details. He looked surprised for a brief moment, then masked it professionally.

“You’ll have the information in fifteen minutes, sir.”

When he left, I leaned back in my chair, staring at the ceiling.

I wondered what her reaction would be when she found out who I really was.

Then another thought crept in. Did I really not look like a CEO? My posture, my body language, my clothes, everything screamed authority. I was wearing a branded tuxedo. Still, she didn’t even suspect.

Was I really that invisible?

My thoughts were interrupted when Shesh returned.

“Sir, the watchman is here.”

My expression went blank.

I signaled for him to be brought in.

The moment I saw him, I asked coldly, “How much bribe did you take to let that girl enter from the back gate?”

His eyes widened. Shock drained the color from his face.

He tried to speak.

I stopped him. “Don’t try to outsmart me. I saw you take the money.”

His voice trembled as he finally spoke. He said he initially refused to let her in. She told him it was the first time she was late. That she had an old, sick mother to take care of. That she had loans. That if she lost her job, her family would suffer.

He said she kept pleading.

And eventually, he gave in.

When he finished, I asked quietly, “And the bribe?”

He fell silent, looking down.

I said, “You showed mercy to a stranger. Now your family will suffer because of it. You’re fired.”

He looked up in panic, begging, telling me about his wife and two children, asking how they would survive.

I asked him how many times he had done this.

“First time, sir. Only her. I swear.”

It didn’t matter.

I repeated, “You’re fired.”

When he continued pleading, I called Shesh loudly and ordered him to be escorted out.

After that, Shesh placed a file on my desk.

“This is the girl’s file, sir.”

He left immediately.

I opened it.

Her photograph stared back at me.

The same feather-light face, but here she looked sincere, obedient, almost innocent. An ID photo shouldn’t do that to a man, yet I found myself staring longer than necessary.

Her name.

Dharini Shekhawat.

I repeated it softly. A rare name. Strong.

She had joined the company only five months ago and was already a team member in cybersecurity. Impressive. Her in-and-out timings were flawless. Except today.

Maybe she really was late only today.

Then I saw her family details.

She lived alone. Her family was in a village in South India. She had three brothers.

No parents.

No mother

My jaw tightened.

So she lied.

She wasn’t different. Just another woman who used emotions as currency.

I closed the file and pressed the intercom.

“Shesh. Call Dharini Shekhawat to my cabin.”

Dharini’s POV

As I walked into the cabin, my heart stopped.

The man sitting on the chair slowly turned around, and before I could even breathe properly, my eyes froze on his face. Then came that smirk. A dangerous, knowing smirk.

My vision went blank. My body stiffened. I stood there quietly, unable to move or speak.

“So, Miss Dharini,” he said calmly, his voice slicing the air, “you are late today.”

Only then did my eyes fall on the nameplate on his desk.

CEO.

I took a deep breath in and released it slowly, but my hands had already started trembling. Regret crawled up my spine. Every single word I had spoken in the lift began to replay in my head like a curse.

“Are you there?” the CEO asked sharply.

I lowered my gaze, clasping my hands tightly in front of me.

Then he continued, his tone turning colder.

“You bribed the watchman and entered through the back entrance. What do you think, I wouldn’t find out? There are CCTV cameras everywhere. You know that. And still, you chose to come late, that too on the first day.”

I panicked. I thought he was talking about my first day.

“No… no, sir,” I said quickly. “This is not my first day. I have been working here for five months.”

He let out a short, mocking chuckle.

“No. I’m talking about my first day, not yours.”

My throat went dry.

“Sorry, sir,” I whispered.

Then his eyes darkened.

“What did you say to that man in the lift?” he asked.

“That your mother is sick, so God should leave you?”

My heart sank.

“You should know one thing very clearly,” he continued, his voice hard as stone.

“I hate liars. And I hate betrayers even more. I decided to give you a chance because your work record was good. But lying, that too using mother's name? That is unforgivable.”

He leaned back slightly and said the word that shattered everything.

“You’re fired.”

That word echoed in my ears.

Fired.

My body went numb.

“No… no, sir, please,” I begged, tears spilling freely now.

“I need this job. I need the money. I will work harder, I promise. Please don’t fire me. This is the first and last time I came late. I swear I will never lie again. The guard didn’t allow me to enter, so I had to say that. Please consider this my last mistake.”

He didn’t even look at me.

“You’re fired,” he said coldly. “Now get lost.”

It felt like the ground slipped from under my feet.

I needed this job. Not just for myself, but for survival. For the orphanage I had promised to support with my salary. Without this job, how would I help them?

I pleaded again, my voice breaking.

“Please, sir…”

But he shouted, “Enough!”

His assistant entered the cabin.

“Collect Miss Dharini’s ID card,” the CEO ordered, “give her the termination letter, and show her the way out. From the main entrance, not the back.”

Tears blurred my vision.

As the assistant approached me, I shot an angry look at the CEO.

“It was my first mistake,” I said, my voice shaking with anger and pain. “And you didn’t even listen.”

I left his cabin and entered the lift, muttering under my breath,

“Aise bol raha hai jaise khud kabhi late nahi hua. Khadoos, arrogant janwar. Mujhe naukri se nikal diya.”

The lift doors opened on my floor.

I collected my laptop and other essentials.

I was packing my laptop when Netra rushed toward me. One look at my face and her smile vanished.

“Daru… what happened?” she asked, her voice dropping.

I tried to speak, but my throat refused to cooperate. My lips trembled.

“I… I’ve been fired,” I whispered.

Netra froze.

“Fired?” Her eyes widened. “What do you mean fired? You’re joking, right?”

I shook my head slowly, tears spilling despite my efforts.

“Just because you were late?” she asked, disbelief dripping from every word.

I nodded again, my shoulders slumping like I had lost the strength to hold myself together.

“That’s impossible,” she said sharply. “The company doesn’t fire people for a single delay. Especially not you.”

That’s when Nishant stepped out of his cabin. His eyes immediately fell on me.

“Why are you crying?” he asked, concern etched on his face.

Netra turned to him.

“She’s saying she got fired.”

Nishant blinked.

“Fired? Darini? That doesn’t make sense.”

I laughed bitterly through my tears.

“It makes sense to him.”

“To who?” Nishant asked.

“The man in the lift,” I said quietly.

They both looked confused.

“The man who came in the lift with me this morning,” I continued, my voice shaking.

“He… he was the CEO.”

For a second, the air went silent.

Then Netra gasped.

“Wait. What?”

Nishant frowned.

“You’re saying… the CEO was in the lift with you?”

I nodded.

Netra stepped closer.

“Daru, are you sure? Did you recognize him?”

I wiped my tears angrily.

“Recognize him how? Did I ever see his photo? Did anyone ever introduce him to us?”

“But his clothes,” she said softly. “His presence. His aura.”

I let out a broken laugh.

“I was panicking, Netra. I was late. My mind was screaming. I wasn’t looking at brands or auras. I was just trying to survive.”

Nishant ran a hand through his hair.

“But still… he wouldn’t fire you for that.”

“He did,” I said firmly. “Because I lied.”

Netra’s face fell.

“You lied?”

I nodded, shame flooding me.

“I told the watchman my mother was sick. I said it so he would let me in.”

Nishant’s expression changed.

“He hates lies,” he murmured.

“I didn’t know,” I said, my voice cracking.

“I didn’t know he was standing right there listening to every word. I didn’t know he would become my judge.”

Netra grabbed my hand.

“It was your first mistake, Daru. Anyone would understand.”

“He didn’t,” I said, pulling my hand back gently.

“He called me a liar. A betrayer. He said using mother’s name was unforgivable.”

My voice broke completely.

“I begged him. I told him about the orphanage. I told him I need this job.”

Nishant swallowed hard.

“And he still fired you?”

I nodded.

Netra’s eyes filled with tears.

“This is so unfair.”

I picked up my bag slowly.

“Life doesn’t ask if something is fair,” I said bitterly.

“It just takes.”

They both stood there helpless as I slung the bag over my shoulder.

“Daru, we’ll talk to HR,” Nishant said quickly. “We’ll do something.”

I smiled faintly through tears.

“No. He made sure there’s no coming back.”

Netra hugged me tightly.

“Don’t disappear,” she whispered. “Please.”

I hugged her back, my heart heavy.

“Acha… chalti hoon,” I said softly.

“Duaon mein yaad rakhna.”

And with that, I walked away.

Each step felt heavier than the last. Netra saw my face and immediately asked,