AUTHOR's POV

Location: KR Groups Headquarters, Bangalore — 62nd Floor, CEO Cabin

The glass tower of KR Groups loomed over Bangalore like a kingdom above the clouds. Inside, employees moved with silent reverence, sharp-dressed and sharp-tongued — each knowing one unshakable rule:

“Never look for the CEO. Never ask who is she is.”

The identity of the founder, the woman behind the billion-dollar empire, was a well-guarded secret — not by accident, but by power.

Rumors swirled through the corridors like whispers in a temple.
“She works in disguise.”
“No one's see her.”
“Her assistant meets with clients on her behalf Her.”
“ Some say she doesn’t even exist .”

The truth sat behind a double-soundproofed oak door on the 62nd floor.
A door no one dared knock on.

Outside that cabin sat a young woman — smart eyes, dark curls, and a sarcastic glint in her gaze.
Aaria Mehta. Officially listed as Assistant to the CEO. Unofficially?
The only soul allowed inside that fortress.

She tapped her fingers on her tablet, watching the others avoid eye contact as they passed.

“Relax ,” she muttered under her breath. “She only kills on Wednesdays.”

A beep echoed from her smartwatch. One word lit up:
KAI.

Aaria stood immediately, smoothing her blazer. She typed a quick code into the biometric panel.
With a soft hiss, the door unlocked.

Inside, silence ruled like a queen.

The cabin was vast but dim — blackout curtains drawn, walls lined with shelves of old books, maps, and antique weapons from various parts of the world. One corner held a custom espresso machine. Another? A curved digital screen blinking live data from over nine global markets.

And seated in the center…

Kritika Rajput.

Flawless. Cold. Wrapped in black silk like a shadow dipped in elegance. Her gaze didn't lift as Aaria entered.

"Three meetings canceled. One investor spooked ,” Aaria began, placing the tablet in front of her. “ And the Mumbai finance head accidentally called you 'ma'am on email.”

Kritika raised an eyebrow, finally looking up. Her voice, when she spoke, was low — velvet and iron.

“Fire him.”

“  No problem ,” Aaria replied, chewing gum. “By the way, I made your coffee. Extra dark. Like your soul.”

A small smile ghosted Kritika’s lips — barely there, but real.
Only Aaria saw this side of her.

To the world, Kritika Rajput was a mid-level finance analyst.
To KR Groups, she was a ghost.
To the underworld, she was Velvet Death — the most feared mafia queen Asia had ever known.
But to Aaria?
She was just Kai — her best friend, her secret, her storm.

Kritika stood and walked toward the floor-length mirror. Her reflection stared back with the cold calm of a woman who had buried empires and walked away clean.

“ Anything else , Ari ?” she asked, slipping on her blazer.

“ Yeah,” Aaria said, grinning. "There's a wedding client who wants a planner.  They asked for me...but I think you should go .”

Kritika turned slowly. “Why would I—”

They're royal , kai.,” Aaria said, tossing her the invitation card."And it’s happening in Rajasthan .”

A pause. A flicker of something unreadable passed through Kritika’s eyes.

She opened the card.

And just like that…

The past she buried beneath blood and business —
was calling her home

Inside the KR Groups CEO Cabin — Few Minutes Later

Kritika stared at the golden-embossed wedding invitation in her gloved hand. It wasn’t just royal — it was familiar. The name of the palace. The dates. The crest. Every detail twisted in her memory like thorns around a buried heart.

She hadn’t been back to Rajasthan in eight years.
Not since the fire.
Not since the betrayal.

Aaria watched her carefully, leaning against the wall, her usual smirk gone.

“ You Were surprised and did you were go Rajasthan ?” she asked, quietly.

Kritika placed the card down. “No.”

A lie.

Aaria didn’t push. She knew better.

“ It'll be clean ,” Aaria said. “No press. Total lockdown.  They're just hiring a planner from KR Groups to manage the guest Flow ,schedules, and security coordination. They don't want anything extravagant. The palace doesn’t even know which planner is coming. It's your perfect cover.”

Kritika walked to the window. The skyline of Bangalore stretched out before her — silver and sharp.

“And why do you want me to go ?” she asked, her voice unreadable.

Aaria smiled again. "Because you’re too still lately, kai. When you’re still, you start remembering. I'd rather you move... before you burn .”

A tense silence. The kind that only came before war.

Then, finally —
Kritika nodded.

"Book it under your name. Aaria Deshmukh. I leave tonight."

Aaria raised an eyebrow. “You’re not even gonna ask who’s getting married?”

Kritika’s lips curved, but there was no humor in her eyes.

“No. If fate wants to play… I’ll let it.”
---

🌑 Elsewhere… In the Shadows of Bangkok

A dark alley. Rain falling like whispers. A man in a velvet coat handed a phone to another — old, scarred, half-blind.

“She’s resurfaced,”  the velvet-coated man said.

"Who ?” asked the other.

“ VELVET DEATH. She’s going to Rajasthan.”

The older man stilled. His cigarette fell to the floor.

“So... the queen moves again.”

Back in Bangalore, Kritika packed light.

One gun. One poisoned ring.
And the ghost of the man she once loved.

She locked her cabin, walked through the KR offices like a shadow no one noticed, and left for the airport…

...as Aaira Deshmukh.

But Velvet Death never traveled alone.

She carried vengeance in her silence.
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