The hum of the BMW X5's engine filled the quiet evening air as Athavan drove through the city. The soft pink glow of the interior lights reflected off his unusually flushed face.
His hands gripped the steering wheel firmly, his thoughts drifting.
"Out of all the colors… this is what I chose?"
His expression stayed calm, but internally, he groaned.
"Maybe I do need a second car, one that doesn't make me look like I'm promoting a Barbie advertisement."
He stole a glance at Dhiviya. She was staring out the window, distant, silent. She hadn't said much since they got in.
Her fingers fidgeted in her lap—nervous. She had something to say but wasn't sure how.
Finally, she spoke.
"Athavan…"
He didn't respond right away, but her tone told him this wasn't going to be small talk.
"What did you mean when you said… my uncle was the reason for my father's illness?"
Her voice was steady, but he felt the weight behind it.
The smirk slipped from his face. His fingers tightened just slightly on the wheel.
"Everything will become clear during dinner tonight," he said, calm but deliberate. "I think it's time your family hears the truth."
She frowned. "Dinner?"
"JH Merlin Hotel. 8:30 PM. I want to invite your family there." His voice softened, but it left no room for negotiation. "There are things they need to hear. From me."
Her stomach sank. "Just like that? What am I supposed to tell them?"
Athavan smirked again, eyes flicking toward her.
"Tell them you've got good news. A surprise. Don't you?"
She blinked.
"What?"
"You're starting your own business, Dhiviya. That's something worth celebrating."
The realization clicked. Of course. If she framed it like that, they'd come eagerly, expecting nothing more than cake and congratulations.
For the first time in a while, she smiled—small, but real.
Then, after a long silence, she asked what had been on her mind since the day before.
"Athavan… can you tell me about yourself?"
He raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"
She exhaled slowly, fingers drawing invisible circles on her lap.
"How did you become Vishwakarma?"
His hands stayed steady on the wheel, but his eyes darkened, distant, like he was looking back through lifetimes.
"...You know my parents divorced when I was little, right?"
"Yes," she replied gently.
For a moment, silence. Then a quiet breath.
"After the divorce, my mother brought me back to her hometown. I lived there until I was seven."
"She was an archaeologist. Always busy with fieldwork or research at the library. So i used to follow her to the library. I get fascinated with Books it became my world—history, science, philosophy… anything I could reach, I read."
Dhiviya listened closely, watching the shifts in his face.
"When I turned seven, I took an IQ test. The results classified me as a 'supreme genius.' Not long after, Oxford reached out. That was the start."
She inhaled sharply.
Seven years old… and Oxford?
"My mother insisted on secrecy. She knew the dangers and She was right. over the years, people tried everything—stealing my inventions, exploiting me, scamming me and many assassination attempts. Her precautions saved me."
His hands gripped the wheel just a little tighter.
"I've always admired Vishwakarma—the divine architect, son of Brahma. A master of science and spirit. I took his name as my alias. But…" He turned slightly, looking at her.
"My real name is Athavan."
Dhiviya didn't speak. She just sat there, letting the truth sink in.
All those years she'd been playing, worrying about exams and crushes…
He'd been building empires. Alone. Hidden. Hunted.
She looked at him—really looked—and saw more than the quiet, brilliant man she married. She saw the child who had carried the weight of the world in silence.
And for the first time, she felt something she couldn't quite name.
A sorrow too big for words.
Elsewhere…
Raja Sekaran leaned back in his office chair, evening tea in hand, when his phone buzzed.
He glanced at the screen and smirked.
Poobathy.
An old friend. A name tied to plenty of "mutually beneficial" deals over the years.
He picked up.
"Poobathy! Been a while. What made you think of me today?"
A chuckle came through the line.
"Come on, Raja. I never call without reason. I've been watching your rise—small firm to mid-tier player in just two years. Impressive."
Raja's smirk deepened.
"So you've been keeping tabs?"
"It pays to know who's climbing the ladder," Poobathy said smoothly. "Which brings me to an opportunity."
Raja sat up.
"Go on."
"There's a private dinner tonight. JH Merlin Hotel. Some big names will be there. But more importantly…" Poobathy lowered his voice,
"Raghavan Manoharan's attending. Word is, sensitive info about the AD Tech project might slip out."
Raja's eyes lit up.
"AD Tech?"
"Exactly. Prime chance to get ahead. And I heard your kids are involved in your business now. Might be good for them too—solid networking."
Raja tapped his fingers on the desk.
If Raghavan was attending… there could be gold to mine.
"You really know how to bait the hook, Poobathy."
"I figured," Poobathy chuckled. "Dinner's at 8. Don't be late."
Click.
Raja leaned back, thoughtful. In the living room, Anjana and Navin sat, blissfully unaware of what was coming.
He drained his tea, then called out:
"Anjana! Navin! Get dressed. We're going out for dinner."
Anjana looked up from her phone. "Dinner? Now? Where?"
Raja's voice echoed from his study.
"JH Merlin Hotel. Put on something decent. There'll be important people."
Navin exchanged a glance with his sister. Something about Raja's tone felt… unusual. Not commanding, but calculated. Like he was preparing for a performance.
Inside the study, Raja stood before a mirror, adjusting his collar.
He didn't just plan to attend. He planned to dominate.
Across the city, other chess pieces began to move.
Vasanthan's old rivals stirred.
Mohan from Finance leaned over his laptop, fingers trembling as he opened an encrypted message.
Lecturer Habib packed a folder with old receipts and confidential memos—evidence he'd hidden for years.
The medical supplier cancelled his evening rounds, heart pounding. He wasn't sure if this was a trap… or a second chance.
One by one, the calls came in—different voices, different motives. Some were lured by money, others by guilt, and some by fear.
But all roads led to the same place.
JH Merlin Hotel.
Tonight, the air would taste like silk and smoke.
And before the night was over—The Metropore City would burn.
The End.