The Bathroom
The tiles were white.
They were stark white. They smelled like bleach. They smelled like chemicals that cover up dirty things.
Esha stood in the handicap stall. She locked the door. The lock was flimsy. It made a metal click. She checked it twice.
She sat on the closed toilet lid. Her legs were shaking. Her knees were bouncing up and down. Tap. Tap. Tap. Her heels hit the floor.
She held the phone. It was the encrypted phone. The brick. It felt heavy in her hand. It felt like holding a grenade.
"Papa," she said again. "Did you hear me?"
The line crackled. Static. Then the sound of breathing. A wet, rattling breath. The oxygen machine hissed in the background. Hiss-click. Hiss-click.
"I heard you," Vijay Roy said. His voice was thin. It sounded far away. "You said he gave you a target."
"He gave me Arjun," Esha said. She stared at the grout lines on the floor. They were grey. "He wants me to destroy Arjun's project. Project Icarus. He wants me to humiliate him."
"Good," Vijay said.
Esha froze. She gripped the phone tighter.
"Good?" she whispered. "Papa, it's Arjun. It's your brother's son. It's the only family who visits you."
"He visits me out of pity," Vijay snapped. His voice got stronger. It got angry. "He brings me fruit baskets. He looks at my legs. He thinks, 'Poor Uncle Vijay, the cripple.' I do not want his fruit, Esha. I want his father's company."
"But this project..." Esha started. She stopped. She swallowed the lump in her throat. "This project is his life. He has been working on it for three years. If I kill it, it will break him."
"Then break him," Vijay said.
It was so simple for him. Break him. Like breaking a stick. Like breaking a plate.
"He is weak," Vijay said. "Arjun is soft. He plays at business. He does not know war. If he cannot protect his project, he does not deserve to have it."
Esha felt sick. The smell of bleach was making her nauseous.
"I don't know if I can do it," she said. Her voice was small. She sounded like a little girl.
"You can," Vijay said. "You will. Remember the coat, Esha. Remember the deeds. Remember your mother dying in that hospital because we didn't have the connections to get the specialist. The Khans did that. They took our future."
The story. Always the story. The coat. The deeds. The gold.
It was the fuel. It ran the engine of her father's hate.
"If you don't do it," Vijay said, his voice dropping low, "Zaviyar will know. He will know you are soft. He will know you are not Anya Sharma. And then he will look closer. Do you want him to look closer, Esha?"
"No," Esha whispered.
"Then destroy the project," Vijay said. "Be the shark. Do the job. I have to go. The nurse is coming."
Click.
The line went dead.
Esha sat there. She listened to the silence. She listened to the toilet flushing in the next stall.
She stood up. She unlocked the door. She walked to the sink.
She looked in the mirror.
She looked pale. Her lipstick was faded. She reapplied it. Dark plum. War paint.
She washed her hands. She scrubbed them. She used the pink soap. It smelled like fake roses. She scrubbed until her skin was red.
She couldn't wash it off. The betrayal. It was under her skin now.
The Glass Box
She went back to her desk.
The office was busy. Phones ringing. Keyboards clacking. People walking fast with coffees.
They ignored her. They were afraid of her. She was the woman on the front page. She was the secret weapon. She was the mistress.
She sat down. She opened the red file.
PROJECT ICARUS.
She started to read.
It was boring at first. Technical specs. Server capacity. Bandwidth. Coding languages.
But then she saw the structure.
It was brilliant.
She hated to admit it. But it was brilliant. Arjun had built a cloud platform that was faster than anything on the market. It used a new compression algorithm. It was seamless. If this launched, it would change everything. The Roys would own the data market. Khan Global would look like a dinosaur.
Esha read the code. She scanned the pages.
She was looking for a crack. A mistake. A loose brick.
She read for hours. Her eyes hurt. Her head hurt.
Arjun was meticulous. The security was tight. The encryption was top-tier. He had hired the best developers.
She couldn't find a way in.
She rubbed her temples. She drank her cold coffee. It tasted like acid.
She looked up.
Zaviyar was in his office. Through the frosted glass, he was just a shadow. A dark shape. He was pacing. Back and forth. Like a tiger in a cage.
He stopped. He looked at the glass. He looked right at her shadow.
He knew she was looking.
He lifted his hand. He pointed at his watch. Work faster.
Esha looked back at the file.
She turned the page. Page 42. Vendor Integration.
She stopped.
She read it again.
Arjun was using a third-party API for the login system. It was a small company. Helix Secure.
Esha typed Helix Secure into her computer.
She checked their history. She checked their updates.
She found it.
Helix Secure had a patch update last month. They had fixed a vulnerability. But the update wasn't automatic. The client had to install it manually.
She checked Arjun's specs.
He was using version 2.0. The current version was 2.1.
He hadn't updated the API.
It was a tiny mistake. A lazy mistake. Maybe his developer forgot. Maybe they were too busy.
But it was there. A hole. A backdoor.
If Esha attacked the login system using the old vulnerability, she could crash the whole server. She could delete the user database. On launch day.
It would be a disaster. The system would freeze. The data would vanish. The stock would tank.
She stared at the screen.
It was so easy. It was just one line of code. One script.
She could write the script in ten minutes. She could schedule it to run on the launch day.
She put her hands on the keyboard.
Her fingers hovered over the keys.
Do it, her father said in her head. Break him.
Don't do it, her heart said. He is your family.
She typed.
She didn't write the script. Not yet.
She wrote a note. A memo to herself.
Target identified. Helix API v2.0. Vulnerability confirmed.
She saved the file. She closed it.
She felt dirty. She felt like she had stolen money from a beggar.
She looked at the red file. She wanted to burn it.
The Rain
It was 8:00 PM. The office was empty. The cleaners were vacuuming. Vroom. Vroom.
Esha packed her bag. She put the red file in her drawer. She locked the drawer. She put the key in her pocket.
She walked to the elevator.
She pressed the button. The arrow lit up. Down.
The doors opened.
Zaviyar was inside.
He was wearing his coat. A long black trench coat. He looked like a detective in a noir movie. He looked tired.
He looked at her.
"Going down?" he asked.
"Yes," Esha said.
She stepped in. The doors closed.
They were alone in the metal box.
It smelled like him. Sandalwood. Rain.
"Did you find it?" Zaviyar asked. He didn't look at her. He looked at the numbers changing. 40... 39... 38...
"Find what?"
" The weakness," Zaviyar said. "In the project. Did you find a way to kill it?"
Esha clutched her bag.
"Yes," she said.
Zaviyar turned his head. He looked at her profile.
"Tell me."
"The login API," Esha said. Her voice was robotic. "They are using an outdated version. It has a backdoor. I can overload the authentication server. It will crash the system within thirty seconds of launch."
Zaviyar smiled.
It was a small smile. A terrifying smile.
"Brilliant," he whispered. "Simple. Ugly. Effective."
He stepped closer. The elevator was small. He filled the space.
"You are good at this, Anya," he said. "You are very good at destroying things."
"It is my job," Esha said. She looked at the floor.
"Is it just a job?" Zaviyar asked. "Or do you enjoy it?"
"I don't enjoy it," Esha said. "I enjoy winning."
"Me too," Zaviyar said.
The elevator stopped. Ding. Ground floor.
The doors opened.
The lobby was dark. The rain was pounding against the glass doors. It was a storm.
"Do you have a car?" Zaviyar asked.
"I will take a cab," Esha said.
"There are no cabs in this weather," Zaviyar said. "My driver is outside. I will drop you."
"No," Esha said. "I prefer to walk."
"Don't be stupid," Zaviyar said. "It is pouring. You are wearing suede shoes. You will ruin them."
He grabbed her arm. Not hard. Just firm.
"Come," he said.
He pulled her toward the doors.
The wind hit them. It was cold. Wet.
The black Maybach was waiting at the curb. The driver opened the door with an umbrella.
Zaviyar pushed her in. He got in after her.
The door closed. The sound of the rain was muffled. It was quiet again.
"Where are you staying?" Zaviyar asked.
"The Langham," Esha said.
"Go to The Langham," Zaviyar told the driver.
The car moved. It slid through the wet streets.
Esha looked out the window. Everything was blurry. The lights were smudges.
"You look tired," Zaviyar said.
"I'm fine."
"You are not fine," Zaviyar said. "You look like you are carrying a heavy weight."
He reached out. He took her hand.
His hand was warm. Hers was ice cold.
He rubbed her knuckles with his thumb. Back and forth. Back and forth. It was soothing. It was distracting.
"What is the weight, Anya?" he asked softly. "Is it the lie?"
Esha froze. Her heart stopped.
"What lie?" she asked.
Zaviyar looked at her hand. He looked at the fake diamond ring she wore on her pinky.
"Everyone lies," Zaviyar said. "I lie. You lie. Sterling lies. The weight comes from remembering which lie is for which person."
He squeezed her hand.
"You can tell me," he said. "I am good at keeping secrets."
Esha looked at him.
He looked sincere. He looked kind.
It was a trick. It had to be a trick. He was fishing. He was testing her.
"I don't have secrets," Esha said. She pulled her hand away. "I just have a headache."
Zaviyar looked at his empty hand. He closed his fingers.
"Okay," he said. "A headache."
He leaned back. He closed his eyes.
"We will be there in ten minutes," he said. "Rest."
Esha didn't rest.
She sat on the edge of the seat. She watched him breathe.
He was the enemy. He was the monster who stole her family's coat.
But his hand had been warm.
And for a second, just a second, she had wanted to tell him everything.
She hated herself for it.
She looked at the rain. She wished it would wash her away.