Two days.
That's all it took for truth to start leaking through the cracks of silence.
After Mira and Ananya Ghosh reviewed the evidence, the undercurrent began — whispers in editorial offices, sudden withdrawals from secret accounts, and subtle shifts in studio loyalties.
But someone inside had tipped off the wrong side.
Truth had awakened — and now, so had the wolves.
That Night — At the Gate
The cab pulled away, its taillights dissolving into the dark.
Maholi stepped onto the pavement, the chill of late night clinging to her bare arms. Her heels echoed sharp and alone. She adjusted her coat collar, mind still lingering on the charity event she'd just hosted — the silent nods, the curious stares. She could feel it.
The air wasn't empty.
Something watched.
A sudden engine roared to life from the shadows.
Headlights.
Fast. Predatory.
A black car tore toward her.
"Maholi!"A voice — fierce, desperate — rang out.
A strong arm yanked her backward just as the car blazed past, missing her by inches. It vanished into the night, like a phantom that had already chosen its next turn.
They collapsed onto the sidewalk.
Abir held her tightly, his chest heaving.Her breath came in gulps, hands trembling.His eyes scanned her body like a battlefield.
"Are you hurt?""No—" she whispered, "just… shaken."
He cupped her face, forehead to hers.
"This isn't a warning anymore. It's war."
Sulekha's Mansion
A fire cracked quietly in the hearth of the Bose estate, but the room felt colder than stone.
The scent of sandalwood masked rot.
Sulekha stood motionless, a porcelain figure framed in silk and shadows.Ruchika paced restlessly, her voice sharp.
"They're going public. That reporter — the old hag — she's still alive. And the lawyer? She's feeding them everything."
Sulekha raised her cup of Darjeeling as if it were blood.
"Then we strike first."
"We can't touch them now. The media's sniffing. The police commissioner was seen leaving Abir's office."
Sulekha turned — slow and serpentine.Her voice dripped like honey over poison.
"Then we make them the villains. The seductive little writer who bewitched a star. The ungrateful son tearing down his father's empire."
Ruchika's lips curled. "And if the public doesn't buy it?"
Sulekha's eyes glittered.
"Then we dismantle their lives. Their bank accounts. Their reputations. Their safety. Everyone bleeds somewhere.Find her wound. Tear it open."
Ruchika smiled.
"With pleasure."
Basu Mansion — Midnight
The study still smelled like Rina — old books, jasmine, and ink.Abir stood in the room, fists balled, eyes burning.
"I'm not here to blame you, Baba. But you were blind."
Arindam Basu stood by the window, his back hunched like a man finally seeing the ghosts he'd ignored.
"I let her down," he said hoarsely. "I thought your mother was overreacting. I thought keeping the peace meant protecting the family. I was wrong."
Abir's voice cracked."She begged you to listen."
A long pause.Then Arindam turned.
"Let me listen now. Let me speak now. Let me do what I should have done before."
Abir looked at him, stunned.
"You'd testify?"
"More. I'll go public. I'll say Sulekha forged the contracts. That Suraj Sen made threats. That my wife… didn't fall down the stairs by accident."
Abir stepped closer, voice low."They'll tear you apart."
Arindam's eyes steadied.
"Then let them.But they won't silence Rina ever again."
The Next Morning — Media Detonation
Breaking News: Veteran Producer Arindam Basu links wife's death to conspiracy. Names Sulekha Bose and Suraj Sen.
Exclusive: Leaked tapes suggest internal tensions in the Basu household leading up to Rina Basu's death.
Developing: Rising writer Maholi Sen targeted in series of death threats. Investigation underway.
Social media erupted.
#JusticeForRina trended worldwide.So did:#BoycottBasuFilms#GoldDiggerMaholi#RuchikaSpeaksSoon
Fan pages were ablaze.
Some hailed Abir as a hero. Others called him a traitor.
That morning, Maholi woke to a shattered bedroom window.
A rock lay inside, wrapped in a note:
"Leave him — or we'll finish what we started."
Abir — At the Police Commissioner's Office
He slammed the note on the table.
His voice was wildfire.
"They're trying to kill her. I'm not just protecting my lover — I'm protecting your witness."
The commissioner — stone-faced — nodded grimly.
"She'll be under surveillance from tonight. But tread carefully, Abir. This isn't just politics anymore. It's blood money and old ghosts."
Maholi's Decision
Evening wrapped around them like the hush before a storm.
Maholi sat before her mirror, twisting her hair into a bun. Her reflection looked pale. But her spine — it was iron.
Abir watched from the doorway, his shirt unbuttoned, sleeves rolled up, exhausted. Wrecked.
"I'm going to the press," she said.
He flinched.
"No. Maholi—don't. They'll devour you."
She met his eyes in the mirror.
"Let them try."
He walked toward her, dropped to his knees, his voice barely holding.
"You don't have to do this for me."
She turned to him. Her eyes were fire.
"I'm not doing it for you.""I'm doing it for us. For my mother. For yours. For the truth that deserves a stage."