The sun had barely risen, but the sharp buzz of Viom's phone sliced through the silence of his apartment like a scalpel.

He reached for it, already knowing who it would be.

Ma.

"Tell me you found something," he said, skipping hello.

Her voice was low, steady — the way it got when the news was about to change someone's life.

"I found her," Radhika said. "Not by name, but by story."

Viom stood, muscles tense. "Go on."

"There was a case," she continued. "Unreported officially — never filed with police. But it was documented by an NGO that worked with abuse survivors. Small village near the Himachal-Punjab border. The details match your timeline... and the girl matches Piya."

He sat down slowly, knuckles whitening.

"She would've been around fifteen then. Found unconscious, bleeding, in her family's home. Neighbors had called in the NGO when they smelled something burning."

"Burning?" Viom's stomach dropped.

"The house was set on fire. Her parents..." Radhika paused, her voice catching for the first time. "...were found inside. Burned. Dead on arrival."

Viom felt the air thicken.

"And Piya?"

"She had defensive wounds on her arms. Blood on her legs. Her clothes were torn. It was suspected rape — but no formal kit was ever taken. No hospital records. She was taken in by the NGO, then disappeared two days later. No family. No police follow-up. No justice."

He shut his eyes, pressing his fingers to his temple. His throat burned.

"Why wasn't this ever made public?"

"Because that village... had money protecting it. Influence. The reports said the girl wouldn't speak. Not a word. She never even told them her name. Just... shut down. Then vanished."

"And no one went looking for her?"

"No one with power. No one who cared enough."

Viom's mind raced, images flashing — the way her body had stiffened in her sleep, the terror in her scream, the way she'd said "It's never over."

It wasn't over. It had just been buried.

"I want the full file," he said quietly. "Every name. Every mention. Every photo."

"I already sent it to your secure email," Radhika said gently. "Viom... be careful. Whatever happened to her back then — it nearly destroyed her. And if she's kept it hidden this long, she may not want it dug up."

"She deserves more than secrets," he said. "She deserves peace. And I'm going to give it to her."

⸻

Back at the Hospital – Later That Morning

Piya stirred in her bed, unaware that across town, someone had finally unlocked the door she'd spent fifteen years holding shut with trembling hands.

And behind it...

was fire, blood, and a truth she had never dared speak.

Viom's fingers flew across the keyboard, the glow from his laptop casting sharp shadows over his face. The NGO files had given him just enough — enough to see the outline of a crime.

But it was what wasn't said that made him dig deeper.

A name caught his eye in one of the scanned statements. A blurred, quickly scribbled line that read:

"Guard says 'Singh boy' came before fire broke. Family visited often. Tension about land papers. Daughter unaware of worth."

Viom paused. His blood chilled.

"Singh boy?"

His mother's maiden name was Singh. His extended family on her side had holdings in Himachal — lands that had been passed down over generations.

He clicked open the property database, hacking through registry records with the silent finesse of someone who knew exactly what he was looking for.

Then he saw it.

Piya Kaur – Listed owner of ancestral land: 2,870 Crores.

The property hadn't been sold. But it had been transferred.

"Illegally signed by proxy," the record read.

Current holder: Param Singh Chaddha.

Param.

His cousin.

The golden boy of the Singh side — always flashy, always entitled, always looking for the next shortcut to power. Viom's childhood memories of him were filled with fake smiles and whispered deals. But even he hadn't expected this.

And then the pieces fell into place:

    •    Piya's parents, dead.

    •    Piya, unconscious, assaulted, disappeared.

    •    Land, suddenly in Param's name, signed two weeks after the fire.

    •    No police reports. No media coverage. No inheritance fight.

Because Piya had been silenced.

Worse — she had survived, and they didn't expect her to.

Viom's hand clenched into a fist.

That wasn't just betrayal.

That was attempted murder.

And the man responsible sat at his family's dinner table every Diwali.

And it wasn't over.

Because as Viom dug deeper, more records emerged.

Piya's hospital history:

    •    2011: Head trauma, reported as kitchen fall.

    •    2014: Stab wound — "Mugging attempt."

    •    2018: Pushed down stairs — "Slipped."

    •    2020: Burn injury — "Gas leak."

All closed. All under false names.

All in different cities.

All quietly dismissed.

And Viom saw the pattern:

She'd been running. For fifteen years.

From Param.

From the people who had stolen her life — and were still hunting it.

⸻

Viom (Internal Monologue)

They didn't just try to kill her. They've been following her. Waiting for her to break completely. And if I hadn't seen her that night...

He stood up, chest heaving, fury rising.

This wasn't just about love anymore.

This was a war.

And Viom Chaddha was ready to burn it all down — for her.