The Fernandes family villa in Banjara Hills was a gilded cage, its opulent halls heavy with Hyderabad's monsoon drizzle and Aisha Seth's fraying nerves. Margaret's cries had quieted, dulled by painkillers, but Aisha's bet to crush Robin Seth and keep Tara felt like a fading echo. Vikram Malhotra, lounging in a velvet armchair, his suit crisp despite the chaos, pressed his case with a practiced grin. "Aisha, you need a break," he said, voice oily. "Dinner at a HITEC City rooftop, just us. Remember our college days?
Aisha, in a black dress sharp as her resolve, hesitated, exhaustion warring with lingering fondness. "Vikram, Ma's barely stable," she said, voice thin. "I'm not in the mood." Yet, his persistence tugged at her, and she nodded. "Fine, but quick."
Before they could leave, Anna Fernandes burst in, her sundress a soft contrast to her panic. "Aisha di, Tara's gone!" she cried. "The nanny checked—her room's empty. Surveillance shows her sneaking out the back gate, alone, maybe looking for Robin or Sarita Ma." Tara, five and fearless, had vanished into Hyderabad's rain-slicked streets.
Aisha's heart seized, her bet forgotten. "Tara?" she whispered, then sprang into action, calling the police and Captain Ganesh, head of local security. "Check every camera—roads, markets, stations!" she ordered, her voice cracking. But she stopped short of calling Robin, her fear sharp—he'd use this to strengthen his custody case. "No word to Robin," she told Anna, eyes hard. "He'll twist this against me."
Anna's face tightened, exasperated. "Aisha di, Robin, could help! He loves Tara—unlike some." Her jab at Vikram was pointed, deepening the family's rift. Vikram scoffed, dismissive. "Tara's fine, probably sulking somewhere. Aisha, don't let this ruin our night." His callousness, prioritizing his plans, grated.
Aisha's eyes blazed. "My daughter's missing, Vikram! Get out—help or leave!" Her rejection stung him, his ego bruised as his romantic gambit unraveled.
Across town, at Hyderabad First Hospital, Robin stood in Sarita Seth's room, the sterile scent sharp. His mother, frail but stable after her heart condition's recent flare, looked at him with weary eyes. "Ma, the divorce is done," he said, voice calm. "Aisha's out of my life. I'm free—focused on Tara and building something new. I'll get her custody in a year."
Sarita's hand trembled, gripping his. "I'm sad for Tara, beta, but I support you," she said. "You've sacrificed enough. Live for yourself now." She paused, her voice soft. "What about reconciling? For Tara's sake?"
Robin's gaze hardened, Aisha's betrayal—filing for divorce on Sarita's birthday—still raw. "No, Ma. Aisha's chosen her path. Tara's my only tie to her." His Don Robin fire flared, resolute.
Robin, his thoughts on Tara. "I'm sending you to Visakhapatnam, Ma," he told Sarita. "It's safer there, away from this mess." The spy's text—"Naga's Son knows you're moving"—lingered.
Back at the Fernandes villa, Aisha's phone buzzed—Captain Ganesh, his voice grim. "Ma'am, we've got footage from a street camera. Tara didn't wander off—she was taken. Two men, hooded, in a van. It's a kidnapping."
Aisha's knees buckled, shock flooding her. "Kidnapped?" she whispered, her world collapsing. Anna gasped, her warning about Robin echoing. Vikram, silent, paled, his connections useless now. Aisha's refusal to involve Robin, her pride, felt like a trap she'd set herself. "Find her," she told Ganesh, voice breaking. "No one else—not yet."
At the hospital, Robin kissed Sarita's forehead, his resolve iron. Tara, Sarita, his empire—his fight was clear.