IT'S NOT OVER

Chapter 3

As the heavy oak door slammed shut behind Reyansh, Shila let out a shaky breath, the anger momentarily draining from her face.

"Wow," she murmured, sinking back onto the plush bed. "That was… intense."

Ken scoffed, running a hand through his mussed hair. "The nerve of him, showing up here like that. Did you see the look on his face when he saw us?" A cruel smile played on his lips.

Shila shivered, a flicker of unease crossing her features. "It was… satisfying, in a way. But also a little scary. What if he…"

"Don't worry, darling," Ken interrupted, pulling her close. "He's nothing. A broke has-been with a screaming kid. We've got nothing to fear from him."

"But what about the music?" Shila whispered, her voice laced with a hint of concern. "He'll know… he'll recognize his own work."

Ken chuckled, a low, humorless sound. "So? We'll just keep feeding him scraps, enough to keep him quiet. Besides, who cares about a ghostwriter, right? The world only sees the star on stage."

Shila remained silent, a thoughtful frown creasing her brow. Though she shared Ken's disdain for Reyansh, a sliver of doubt lingered. Had they underestimated him?

Ken snorted, wrapping an arm around Shila. " We used him for what he was worth - a rich boy playing musician. Blind fool, never leveraging his family's name or status. Kept himself hidden, composing little ditties in his basement. Now that the money's gone, who cares? He's a broke nobody with nothing but his bruised ego. Don't worry about him, Shila. He's all bluster and tears, no real fight in him."

••••

Disgusted by his own naivety, Reyansh stormed into his car. His phone buzzed – it was the manager from the mansion, his voice urgent on the other end. A knot of dread tightened in Reyansh's stomach as he sped back, the once-familiar route now heavy with foreboding.

Inside, a group of lawyers stood huddled like vultures, their expressions grim. Before he could voice his question, the lead lawyer, his voice devoid of warmth, spoke. "Mr. Reyansh, we need to inform you that you'll need to vacate the mansion immediately."

Shame burned in Reyansh's throat. Mr. Khurana, Kaira's father, the man who once treated him like a potential son-in-law, approached him. His words, though carefully chosen, held a chilling finality.

"Reyansh," he began, "I'm truly sorry about this unfortunate turn of events. However, given the circumstances, I can no longer consider you a suitable match for my daughter. I trust you understand."

Mr. Khurana's words confirmed what Reyansh already knew – in their world, money was the only language that mattered. All the promises, the feigned affection – a cruel facade.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Reyansh simply nodded, a silent acceptance of his fate. He headed upstairs, a lawyer trailing behind him like a watchful hawk.

"Sir," the lawyer's voice droned, "you are not permitted to remove any valuables without court permission."

A sigh escaped Reyansh's lips. Everything in this room, from the plush carpet to the ornate furniture, felt like a cruel reminder of a life he could no longer afford. But it was Avi's things that mattered most. Her favorite dolls, the stuffed animals that brought her comfort – these were the only treasures he truly cared about.

Packing her belongings, he felt a tiny hand tug at his shirt. Avi, tears glistening in her big eyes, clutched a worn doll to her chest.

Reyansh packed his room next. Books went in boxes, clothes were neatly folded. The loyal staff carried everything out of the mansion.

"The car keys, sir?" the manager reminded him.

Before Reyansh could answer, the lawyer spoke up. "The car isn't part of what the Malhotra company owns. It belongs to Mr. Reyansh."

Relief washed over Reyansh. The car was his, a symbol of his own hard work – money saved from gigs and his internship. The staff loaded everything into the car, and as he pulled away from the mansion, a wave of uncertainty crashed over him. Where would he go? What would he do next?

With the car packed, he drove away, the future a vast unknown. Hunger gnawed at his stomach. Neither he nor Avi had eaten. He pulled into a nearby restaurant, carrying her inside, a sleeping weight against his chest.

He ordered food, making sure Avi ate first. It surprised him how well she listened, this little girl who had become his anchor. As she drifted off to sleep in his lap, a single tear rolled down his cheek. She was still happy, and despite everything, fate hadn't taken that away from her yet.

The waiter brought the bill, a small white rectangle that felt huge given his situation. With a heavy heart, Reyansh paid, the transaction a harsh reminder of his dwindling money.

"This is for you, sir," the waiter said kindly, placing a small, decorated card next to the receipt.

Confused, Reyansh flipped open the card. Elegant script danced across the page, the words hitting him like a wave.

"Every Destruction is for The Construction. Soon you will achieve heights no one can touch, with a name and fame that will echo through time. I wish you all the success in the world, Mr. Reyansh Malhotra. Follow your Heart, be strong, God bless you." - @Reyfangirl

The card was unsigned, the message cryptic yet strangely comforting. Was it a random act of kindness, or did someone, somewhere, truly believe in me? A spark of hope flickered within him a tiny flame against the overwhelming darkness.

He looked up at the waiter, searching his face for answers. "Who gave you this?" Reyansh rasped, his voice thick with emotion.

Suddenly, a commotion erupted at a nearby table. A gasp, a shout - an elderly man in his sixties slumped to the floor, clutching his chest.

Panic seized the restaurant. The manager's voice boomed through the room, "Is there a doctor here?!" People scrambled around the stricken man, a worried murmur rising from the crowd.