“Who signed off?” Aarush interrupted, waving a sheet of paper in the air.

Aadhya’s skin chilled even though the central air conditioning was set to a very comfortable temperature. “I did,” she said quietly, putting her trembling fingers in her lap so her brother couldn’t see them. “What’s wrong?”

“The quantities are off by fifteen percent.”

“That’s not possible.” The trembling wouldn’t stop so she pressed her fingers together, lacing them together to try and keep them still.

“I just got off a call from the project manager on site, materials have been delivered. The quantities are wrong.” He dropped the paper on the desk in front of her. “But they do match with that fucking document. The one with your signature on it.”

Aadhya’s trembling fingers slowly unclenched as she reached for it. “I don’t, of course, remember the numbers of the top of my head but-“

“Aadhya, the numbers are wrong.”

She looked at him, swallowing hard. “I don’t understand how. The team showed me the plans and the measurements were lifted directly from-“

“I know how the process works,” Aarush interrupted again. “I want to know how you got it wrong.”

“I didn’t!” Aadhya was on her feet now, her palms slamming down on her desk. “I know I didn’t!”

“Aadhya!” Aarush shut his eyes, fatigue etching deep lines into his face. He hung his head, one hand going to massage the back of his neck.

“I’ll fix it,” she told him, anxiety swirling in her stomach. “I’ll fix it all.”

“I know. It’s just-“ he stopped, clearly not knowing how to say what he needed to.

“I know,” she told him, echoing his words. “This can’t happen again.”

Aarush held her gaze. “It really can’t.”

When Aadhya’s father had named her Chief Architect, it had sent a ripple of discontent through the company. Most had assumed that she was just going to be a figurehead leaving the actual work to the rest of them. A second, much stronger, ripple made its presence felt when Aadhya walked into the building ready to embrace the job and make it her own.

Was she a nepo baby? Yes, she was. But did she work her ass off to earn the seat now that she’d got it? Bloody hell, yes she did.

And yet, she’d been plagued by a series of stupid mistakes that she should have caught. She had no idea how they were getting past her. But it ended now. It had to. Or her own brother was going to fire her. Sister or not, their legacy needed to be protected.

“I’ll fix it,” she echoed again. “Trust me.”

Aarush didn’t say anything. He just looked at her with those tired eyes.

“Please?” Aadhya added. She didn’t beg for much, but her job was all she had now. She couldn’t afford to lose it.

After a fraught moment, Aarush nodded. “This can’t happen again.” The words were meant to warn her and reassure himself.

“It won’t,” Aadhya vowed.

Aarush left, the door to her cabin banging behind him. Aadhya dropped into her chair, her trembling legs giving way.

Her life was falling apart, every thread woven into the tapestry of it fraying at the edges. What was happening? A few weeks ago, she’d had the job of her dreams and was marrying the man of her dreams. And now…all she was left with was a fucking nightmare.

Aadhya buried her head in her hands, her fingers digging through the curls pulled tightly into a single braid. She tried to get the anxiety swimming through her body to recede, but it felt like a losing battle.

She pushed the coffee mug away, caffeine being the last thing she needed right now. When she finally managed to will the worst of it away, she picked up the phone and dialed Vara Prasad’s intercom.

“Prasad Garu,” she said crisply. “Can I see you in my cabin?”

After listening to his acknowledgement, she hung up and started digging through her drive to pull up documents relating to Nava.

Her phone’s display lit up with an incoming message. Aadhya glanced down and saw Ram’s name flashing on her display. The picture attached to the contact was one of him in a suit, frowning ferociously into the distance. She’d taken that picture at Raashi and Harsh’s wedding reception. Back when they’d been madly, passionately banging each other’s brains out. Back when life had made more sense.