The night was unusually still.
The Cheran mansion, which had earlier echoed with laughter, mockery, and calculated cruelty, now lay wrapped in silence. Only the distant hum of the city and the soft rustle of curtains disturbed the calm. The five Cheran women sat together in the private lounge, scattered across velvet sofas, their earlier confidence slowly dissolving into restless unease.
Something was wrong.
None of them said it aloud, but all of them felt it.
Diya was the first to break the silence.
"Why does it feel… heavy?"
Alya frowned, rubbing her temple.
"I was thinking the same. My head feels strange."
Riya laughed weakly.
"Don't tell me you're suddenly feeling guilty."
Rathi didn't laugh. She stared straight ahead, her expression stiff.
"No. This is different."
Mathi opened her mouth to reply—
And then it happened.
A voice.
Not spoken.
Not imagined.
But clear, steady, and unmistakably real.
They still don't see it.
Even now, they laugh, unaware that they are standing beside the same snakes who plan to destroy them too.
The five women froze.
Diya's glass slipped from her fingers, shattering on the marble floor.
"What… was that?" she whispered.
Before anyone could answer, the voice returned—calm, layered with sadness rather than anger.
Vathika doesn't just want Arjun. She wants the empire.
And Dass… Dass wants everything Arjun has ever been given.
Alya shot to her feet.
"That voice—"
Riya's face had gone pale.
"It's hers."
Vinosha.
They looked at each other in disbelief.
Rathi's breath came shallow.
"Are we… hearing her thoughts?"
As if in response, the voice continued—unfiltered now, no longer cautious.
They think I don't know.
They think silence means weakness.
But I have already seen what is coming.
Images flooded their minds—brief, sharp, undeniable.
Vathika whispering to Dass in a dark corridor.
Dass's eyes cold, calculating.
Documents being altered.
A staged scandal.
Arjun standing alone, betrayed.
Vinosha stepping back—not defeated, but preparing.
Mathi clutched the arm of the sofa.
"No… this isn't possible."
But the thoughts didn't stop.
Dass hates Arjun not because Arjun wronged him…
but because Arjun exists.
The images shifted.
A flashback—not Vinosha's memory, but something deeper.
A child crying beside a wrecked car.
Fire.
Screaming.
Rain.
A two-year-old boy pulled from twisted metal.
Dass was only two when his parents died.
His father—Arjun's father's younger brother.
Blood bound them… tragedy sealed them.
The five women saw it clearly now.
Arjun's parents—young, grieving, resolute—bringing the orphaned child into their home.
Raising him.
Naming him.
Loving him.
Giving him everything Arjun had.
Education.
Wealth.
Status.
Protection.
He was never treated as less.
But he always felt like less.
Diya sank slowly onto the sofa.
"All this time…"
The thoughts turned darker.
Dass learned early that love doesn't erase comparison.
Every praise Arjun received felt like theft.
Every achievement felt like humiliation.
Scenes unfolded—Dass watching Arjun receive applause, awards, admiration.
Dass smiling on the outside.
Burning on the inside.
He doesn't want Arjun to lose a little.
He wants Arjun to lose everything.
Riya's voice trembled.
"And Vathika?"
The answer came immediately.
Vathika saw his jealousy.
She fed it.
They are not partners.
They are mirrors.
Another image—Vathika leaning close, whispering:
"You deserve it more."
"Why should Arjun inherit what should be yours?"
"Together, we can take it all."
Alya shook her head violently.
"She told us Vinosha was manipulating Arjun…"
The thought cut through like a blade.
Projection is her favorite weapon.
She accuses others of what she herself is doing.
Silence fell heavy.
The five women exchanged looks—confusion, fear, denial, and something darker.
Mathi broke it first.
"So what now?"
Rathi's jaw tightened.
"We didn't ask to hear this."
Diya stood abruptly.
"But we did choose sides."
That was the truth.
They had mocked Vinosha.
Humiliated her.
Pushed Vathika forward knowingly—even after learning the engagement was canceled.
They weren't innocent.
They were complicit.
Another thought echoed—softer now, almost weary.
I didn't want them to hear this.
But truth has a way of finding ears that refuse to listen.
Riya swallowed.
"She knows we're hearing her."
Alya crossed her arms defensively.
"So what? We're supposed to suddenly feel sorry for her?"
No answer came.
But the images returned—this time of the future.
A scandal exploding.
Arjun's name dragged through headlines.
Dass standing beside Vathika, victorious.
The five women—pushed aside, discarded, irrelevant.
Used.
Then forgotten.
Mathi's voice dropped.
"She's not lying."
Diya whispered,
"Vathika would sacrifice any of us."
That realization hurt more than anything Vinosha had ever said.
Across the mansion, in a shadowed study, Dass stood beside the window, his reflection sharp against the glass.
"You're losing control," he said coolly.
Vathika turned, eyes flashing.
"No. She's interfering."
Dass's lips curved into a humorless smile.
"She always does."
He poured himself a drink, movements precise.
"Do you know what it's like," he continued softly, "to grow up with everything… and still feel like you're begging?"
Vathika watched him closely.
"They loved me," he said.
"They gave me the same education, the same privileges."
His fingers tightened around the glass.
"But they never looked at me the way they looked at him."
He laughed once—short and bitter.
"Arjun didn't steal anything. He didn't need to."
Vathika stepped closer.
"And Vinosha?"
Dass's eyes darkened.
"She sees too much."
"Then we make her irrelevant," Vathika replied smoothly.
Unseen, unheard by them—but heard by the five women, Vinosha's final thought drifted through the night.
They will have to choose.
Not between me and Vathika…
but between truth and comfort.
The five ladies sat in silence long after the voice faded.
They were not suddenly good.
They were not repentant.
But for the first time, fear crept in.
Because they finally understood one thing:
Vinosha wasn't fighting for love.
She was surviving a war.
And Dass and Vathika were no longer just dangerous to her—
They were dangerous to everyone