KYRIA'S POV
They say New York never sleeps, but they don't realise it never stops watching either.
There’s a camera on the corner of 63rd. Another above the subway turnstile. A fourth? hidden, infrared—planted by me.
I count them as easily as I count heartbeats.
This city isn’t chaotic. It’s curated and precise. It's a weapon disguised as civilization.
Just like me.
Every step here is a calculation.
Every glance, rehearsed.
You don’t walk - you move with intent.
One wrong move and boom you are damned.
Tonight I will wear my navy silk because the material flows like water and is as strong as steel. The diamond earring that I wear has hidden cameras to record everything whenever I want. I use them for special occasions like when I’m on a mission or undercover. My heels are custom Louboutin's- quiet, heavy and lethal.
The only harmless thing I was wearing was this engagement ring. The round diamond shining reflecting the moonlight on my hand, the platinum band wrapped around my ring finger as if my finger is the most delicate thing it has ever touched. This diamond isn't just shining under the moonlight it commands attention. My mother in law specially got it made for me, she wanted me to have the most unique
They call me a fashion designer.
But little do they know that I build death into every stitch.
The tablet on the kitchen island glows. No name. No greeting. Just a high-resolution image and a line beneath it, written like a death sentence.
Target: Aakarsh Chopra.
The name lands without impact. It was a reminder, a reminder about my duty not just as a fashion designer but as the top spy of my organization VIRENX. A covert organization cloaked under the façade of a global tech-investment firm. Only the closest people of Josh, the head of the organization and the CEO of the firm know what happens behind the closed doors of his cabin. He believes in total dominance through manipulation, technology, and silent power. He is someone who can kill anyone to be on top. Josh wants to end the rivalry with our rival organization NOCTAVEIL for once and for all. This time he’s again following his philosophy that to end the rivalry, you must eliminate the rival, and as Josh’s most trusted spy I’m supposed to eliminate Noctaveil’s best spy Aakarsh Chopra.
The CFO of his father’s empire, Wall Street golden boy, tailored suits and inherited power. Clean file. No political dirt. No scandal. Almost too clean.
My lips twitch in a knowing smile
Ofcourse I know what that means.
He’s like me.
And I’m going to marry him.
I don’t believe in fate.
Coincidence? Occasionally. But fate implies softness. Emotion. That some divine energy hand stitched this mess together for a reason.
No, this is a power play. One made by two rival organizations with blood on their hands and eyes on the throne.
His file flickers away, replaced by another.
A marriage proposal.
I don’t flinch.
“Congratulations,” the message reads. “You’re engaged.”
My laugh is a sound I almost don’t recognize-dry, hollow, clinical. A sound people make when they see the punchline coming and choose to walk right into it anyway.
Of course.
Of course the target is the man my parents are so desperate to parade in front of me. I should’ve guessed it from the moment my mother used the words, “He comes from a good family.” That’s code. Old money. Old blood. And the kind of polished respectability only sociopaths seem to master effortlessly.
There’s a knock on my bedroom door.
I slide the tablet under the bed, replace the ice in my veins with something convincingly warm, and answer.
My mother peers in. Flawless saree. Predictably judgmental eyes.
“You’re not even going to brush your hair?” she asks, as if that’s the gravest crime in this household.
“I’ll put a bullet through it later,” I say under my breath. Then smile sweetly. “In a minute.”
She leaves with a disapproving click of her tongue.
I sit in my vanity. Not to admire myself. That requires a level of self-delusion I was trained to extinguish at seventeen. I sit to calculate the version of me that tonight requires.
Soft but not stupid.
Graceful, but not forgettable.
Beautiful enough to distract. Smart enough to remember every detail.
I swipe red across my lips. The kind that looks like seduction but stains like blood. Fitting.
Because this isn’t just a marriage. It’s a mission.
And when it ends, one of us will be dead.
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