"Smile like you're in love with him."
That was the last thing Ritu whispered before shoving Sara out of the vanity van and toward the waiting paparazzi outside Café Lune, the city's favorite hotspot for celebrity "chance" meetings.
Outside, cameras flashed like gunfire. The decoy date had been perfectly arranged: a rising actor from her last film, Reyansh Malhotra—young, charming, a fan favorite. He was already on the pavement, leaning casually against the railing, rehearsing his easy-boyish grin.
"Ready to be my fake girlfriend?" he murmured when she reached him, his smile perfectly placed while his words stayed hidden behind his teeth.
Sara slipped into performance mode so smoothly it scared even herself sometimes.
She laughed softly, nudging his arm with practiced affection.
"You wish, Rey."
Click. Click. Click.
The shutters loved it. #ReyRa was already trending on Twitter.
Inside the café, they took the window seat. On cue. The glass was tinted just enough to look private, but clear enough to feed the media. Sara held the coffee cup with a gentle smile, looked at him the way the fans wanted to believe she would look at someone she adored.
But her phone stayed on her lap. Screen down. Silent.
Waiting. For him.
Across the street, parked in a black car with no plates, Aarav watched through reflective glasses. He wasn't supposed to be here. He always avoided her public circles.
But tonight, his silence felt like the calm before something ruthless.
"Sir," Dev said quietly from the passenger seat, "Unit 7 reports that Raghav is cracking. Someone higher paid him. A woman. Alias: Eris."
Aarav's fingers drummed once on the armrest. Eris. Greek goddess of discord.
Interesting.
His phone buzzed. A single photo.
Sara laughing with Reyansh through the café window.
Caption from a gossip account: "NEW COUPLE ALERT? Sparks fly at Café Lune!"
Dev glanced at the photo. "Should I—"
"No," Aarav said coldly. Then, softer, "Let them think she's someone else's. It keeps her safe until tonight."
💋 Inside the Café
Reyansh lowered his voice between sips.
"Are you okay? You feel… different today."
Sara blinked once, masking the exhaustion behind her lashes. "I'm just tired."
He leaned in, whispering, "You know I'd never leak anything about you, right?"
She met his eyes—steady, unreadable.
"I know," she said with a small smile.
And she did know.
Because whoever sent that picture… wasn't playing at paparazzi level. They were playing at WAR.
⏳ 11:05 PM — The Building
Fog clung to the ground like a secret as Sara stepped out of the SUV, dressed in black jeans and a hooded coat. No glam. No makeup. Just silence and the weight of the brass key in her palm.
Dev was already waiting near the alley entrance.
"Ma'am," he said respectfully, crisp and controlled like always. "He said to give you this."
He handed her a tiny earpiece.
Sara hesitated.
Dev: "He'll listen. But he won't interfere… unless needed."
She slipped it in.
Static. Then—
A.V.R (in her ear, low and deadly calm): I'm here.
She exhaled. A breath she didn't know she was holding.
The building loomed above her—dark, silent, unoccupied.
But when she pushed the key into the rusted lock, the lights inside flickered ON.
One by one.
Floor by floor.
As if welcoming her.
A.V.R: Don't react.
She pushed the door.
It clicked shut behind her on its own.
She wasn't alone.
The corridor smelled faintly of fresh paint and… something else.
A.V.R: Floor three. Old archive room. There's only one active camera in that hallway. I left it intentionally working.
Sara climbed.
The stairwell echoed. Too quiet. Too staged.
When she reached Floor 3, the hallway lights were already on.
Halfway across the corridor, she saw it.
A single chair, placed directly under the only active camera.
And on it—a phone, face down. Recording light blinking.
Her heart thudded.
A.V.R: Stop.
She froze.
The phone's screen lit up on its own.
A video started playing.
Her blood turned to ice.
It was footage of last night—Aarav holding her in the stairwell, kissing her.
But then—
The videographer shifted the angle…
…revealing a silhouette in the corner that neither of them had noticed.
Someone had been in the stairwell with them.
Someone who didn't breathe. Didn't move.
Just recorded.
And then—
A whisper rose from the darkness behind her. Soft. Mocking. Too familiar.
"You two hide your love well. But tell me, Sara…"
"…does he love you enough to destroy everything for you?"
To be continued…