“You’re fired.”

The words cracked through the office like a whip. Raghav didn’t even glance up as the man in front of him trembled.

“Sir, please,” the employee stammered. “I can fix it. Just give me one more chance.”

“No chances.” Raghav slammed his palm against the desk. “I gave you one formula. You created something else entirely. Do you have any idea what this means? How am I supposed to face my father after this kind of stupidity?”

The man collapsed to his knees. “Please, sir—”

“Security.” Raghav pressed the button without hesitation.

Two guards marched in and dragged the pleading man out, his desperate cries echoing down the hallway.

The office fell silent again, until the door swung open.

“Calm down, Raghav.” His friend strolled in without knocking, wearing a half-smile. “You’ll end up with high blood pressure screaming like that.”

Raghav shot him a glare. “And you’ll give me one, barging in without permission.”

His friend chuckled, unfazed. “Alright, alright. But tell me something. What happened to that girl you were looking for three days ago? Did you find her?”

Raghav leaned back in his chair, his expression dark and cold. “I killed her. Her chapter is closed. No more enemies.”

The smile slipped from his friend’s face. “You… what? You killed her?” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Raghav, she was just a girl. How could you—”

Raghav’s hand slammed against the armrest of his chair, making the glass of water on the desk tremble and rattle.

His voice thundered through the room.

“Because what? Because she was just a girl? Girls, men, employees, strangers. It doesn’t matter. Anyone who comes for us pays the price. My father built this empire with his blood and sweat. I won’t let anyone stain it with lies.”

The office fell into a suffocating stillness. Only the steady ticking of the clock on the wall broke the silence, each second dragging heavier than the last.

“My dad told me everything,” Raghav said, his voice clipped, every word landing like a stone.

“She wasn’t innocent. She spread lies about us, leaked information to outsiders. Do you know what that does to a company’s name? To my father’s reputation?”

His friend stiffened, disbelief flashing across his face. “Raghav… you’re saying she talked? That’s it? She leaked something? That’s not a reason to—”

“She didn’t just talk,” Raghav snapped, cutting him off.

He leaned forward, his knuckles pressing into the polished wood of his desk. His jaw was locked so tight the veins in his neck stood out.

“She tried to destroy us. The police, the media, competitors—she didn’t care who she went to, as long as she dragged our name through the dirt. Once you betray this company, once you stain my father’s name, you cross a line there’s no coming back from.”

His friend swallowed hard, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “But killing her? God, Raghav…”

He took a slow step back, as though he’d suddenly realized the man in front of him wasn’t just his friend anymore. “You can’t keep silencing people just because they threaten your name.”

Raghav’s eyes flickered with something sharp and dangerous, like a blade catching the light.

" I know, but this… this was my choice. I won’t let anyone think we’re weak. Not her. Not anyone.”

Silence thickened between them, broken only by the faint hum of the air conditioner.

His friend let out a shaky laugh, though there was no humor in it.

“You’re not protecting a reputation anymore, Raghav. You’re building a throne of fear. And one day, it won’t just be your enemies who are scared of you. It’ll be everyone.”

For the first time, Raghav smiled. It wasn’t warm. It wasn’t human. It was the kind of smile that promised there was no turning back.

“Good,” he said quietly. “Fear keeps people loyal.”

His friend studied him, worry clouding his eyes. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, almost resigned.

“One day,” he murmured, “you’ll regret this. You can’t kill every shadow, Raghav. Some will come back for you.”

Raghav leaned back, forcing a laugh that sounded more like steel scraping stone than amusement. “Ghosts don’t scare me. She’s gone. Finished. End of story.”

His friend didn’t answer. He only gave Raghav one last look, half pity, half fear. Before turning and leaving the office.

The door clicked shut behind him, and the echo seemed to stretch far longer than it should have.

The silence that followed pressed in from every corner, heavier than before, as though the walls themselves were listening.

Raghav tried to shove it away, tried to bury himself in the papers spread across his desk.

But against his will, her face rose up in his mind, the wide, tear-filled eyes, the way her lips trembled as she begged for her life.

The sound of her voice, broken and desperate, whispering for mercy.

His jaw tightened, teeth grinding together. He told himself she was gone, erased, nothing but a closed chapter.

Yet the memory lingered, curling through his thoughts like smoke he couldn’t clear, poisoning the air he breathed.

He pressed his palms hard against the desk, shutting his eyes. For a moment, he could almost feel her presence, fragile, trembling, close enough to touch.

She was supposed to be gone. So why did it still feel like she wasn’t?

Outside, the city hummed, its noise muffled by the tall glass windows, but inside, the only sound was the steady tick of the clock.

Raghav leaned back in his chair, shutting his eyes for a moment just long enough for her face to rise again.

Her voice breaking as she whispered, Please… leave me.

His jaw locked. Why couldn’t he shake it off? Usually, these things were clean, simple. A problem erased. An enemy removed. And that was the end of it.

He never thought of them again. But this girl, she clung to him, like smoke that refused to lift.

The phone buzzed on his desk.

Raghav picked it up before the second ring.

“Dad.”

His father’s voice came through warm and familiar, almost gentle. “I was thinking about you,” he said. “You sounded tense yesterday. Is everything alright?”

Raghav straightened in his chair. “Yes. Everything’s handled.”

A pause. Not suspicious — just thoughtful.

“And the girl?” his father asked calmly. “The one i said was causing trouble. Is that situation resolved?”

Raghav’s jaw tightened for half a second before he answered, his tone steady. “She’s gone, Dad. Out of the country. I made sure she won’t create any more problems.”

His father hummed softly, the sound of approval wrapped in concern. “Good. I don’t like it when unnecessary complications disturb you. You work too hard already.”

“I know,” Raghav replied.

“You did what you had to,” his father continued, voice smooth, reassuring.

“Sometimes people misunderstand things and make noise. It’s better when such matters fade quietly.”

The words should have comforted him. Instead, they left something cold behind his ribs.

“I won’t disappoint you,” Raghav said after a moment.

His father chuckled lightly. “You never do, son. Get some rest. You look exhausted.”

The call ended.

Raghav lowered the phone slowly, his gaze drifting toward the city beyond the glass, lights glowing like watchful eyes in the dark.

She’s gone. That’s what he had said.

Yet the image of her face pleading, rose unbidden in his mind.

He clenched his jaw, pushing it down.

She was finished.

That chapter was closed.

So why did it feel like something had been left unfinished?

---------

The whiskey hadn’t dulled it. The city lights below his penthouse blurred into nothing as Raghav laid down on his bed. At some point, his eyes slipped shut.

And the dream came.

But this dream didn’t show her death. It showed her alive.

She stood in front of him, her hair sticking to her tear-streaked face. The room around them was blurred, a shadow of his office and yet not quite. It was too dark, too still.

Her voice cracked as she whispered, “Please… I didn’t mean to. Don’t hurt me.”

Raghav’s hands curled into fists at his sides. In the dream, he tried to speak, to silence her, but his throat felt tight, as if the words were trapped.

She took a step closer, eyes wide with terror. “I was just scared. I only wanted to be safe. I never wanted to ruin you. Please… let me go.”

He tried to look away, but her face followed him, those pleading eyes refusing to vanish.

“Do you even remember my name?” she asked suddenly, her voice echoing like it came from everywhere at once.

The question stabbed through him. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He couldn’t say it. He couldn’t recall.

Her lips trembled, her whisper turning sharp. “You killed me like I was nothing. And you don’t even remember who I was.”

The walls seemed to close in. He reached out, Whether to silence her or pull her away, he didn’t know. But her skin turned cold under his fingers. Ice, not flesh. Her body shook violently in his grip.

Then, her voice rose, no longer weak but furious, thundering through the dark. “You’ll never forget me, Raghav. You’ll see me every time you close your eyes.”

The sound shattered him awake.

He bolted upright in his bed, drenched in sweat, his chest heaving like he’d run miles. The city lights still glowed outside his window, but the echo of her voice lingered, crawling under his skin.

---------



The next morning, his assistant laid a neat stack of reports on his desk.

“Shipments cleared, distribution on schedule. Also—hospital updates from our medical division.”

Raghav flipped through the papers without much thought. Numbers, schedules, logistics.

“Leave me…” the words whispered through his mind.

Why did it feel like she was right there, leaning close, whispering against his ear?

His assistant shifted uneasily, mistaking the pause for irritation.

“Sir?”

Raghav slid the papers aside with practiced calm, his face a mask. “Nothing,” he said smoothly, his tone low and dangerous. “Carry on with the day.”

The man gave a quick nod and retreated, leaving the office quiet again.

He shot up from his chair, his pulse hammering in his throat. The office was empty.

He dragged a hand over his face, trying to shake it off. Hallucination. Stress. Nothing more.

But

the chill on his skin wouldn’t leave. Because he knew that voice. He’d heard it on the edge of death her pleading.

And it was impossible. Because she wasn’t supposed to have a voice anymore.