Chapter 7: Accusations and Scandal

Because I changed my questions on the spot, I asked many things no one had known before. The interview was a great success. By the end of the show, the live viewers had exceeded ten million. It was the first time the Mehra family head’s untold past was revealed in detail.

Everyone was excited.

Backstage, Ritu patted my shoulder: “Worthy of a reporter! Those improvised questions were so sharp they couldn’t help but answer.”

But as she turned, she saw Priya and Arjun walking over. She suddenly went quiet.

Priya looked over coldly: “Did you prepare today’s questions?”

I nodded.

Arjun said with a hidden threat: “Reporter Rohit, you really know how to hit a sore spot. But let me remind you, you should stick to basic professional ethics. Don’t covet what you don’t deserve.”

I said nothing. Just looked at Priya again. Her expression was sharp, and she only said lightly: “Reporter Rohit is very capable. From now on, you’ll be in charge of our company’s media business.”

Arjun suddenly looked at me. His eyes full of fear and hatred.

He stopped me in a deserted corner, his eyes wary and full of disgust:

“Rohit, you really are insatiable. You took money from me back then, and now you come back for what?”

I looked at him calmly: “I graduated, came back to work.”

Just a normal sentence.

“Work? Rohit, do you think I’m stupid?” He suddenly lost it, shouting at me, “Get lost! Just say you want to quit working with us, or you’ll never have a good day again!”

I ignored him and turned to leave.

Arjun meant what he said. Suddenly, I started facing obstacles everywhere. Several work opportunities that should have been mine were given to others at the last minute.

That evening, just before leaving office, the boss called me in.

“There’s an important annual development conference next month. You’ll be the host.”

I was stunned for a moment, then heard him say, “President Priya specifically asked for you.”

After work, on the roadside opposite the company, a very familiar Audi was parked. The window rolled down, revealing Priya’s indifferent face:

“Since Reporter Rohit is so curious about my past, why not come ask me in person.”

I lowered my head: “I didn’t mean to pry into President Priya’s privacy, it’s just work.”

“Even if it’s work, I gave you my personal card—you could have contacted me to ask.”

I pressed my lips: “...No need.”

Because at that moment, I suddenly realised, it’s already three years later. She is the powerful President Priya, not the little wildcat who, after being scolded, would cling to me pitifully for kisses and comfort.

The Arora family has declined. Without Priya’s tacit approval, Arjun would never dare target me so openly.

Maybe, to her, that past is actually a shame, not to be mentioned.

I was about to leave, but Priya stopped me.

“Stop.”

She pushed open the car door, stepped out, and blocked my way.

Her saree’s pallu fluttered in the evening breeze, and she stood between me and the streetlight, her shadow falling across my shoes. The old Priya would have thrown her arms around my neck, but this one—she straightened her shoulders, chin tilted in that proud, almost regal angle.

“Mr. Rohit, shall we talk?”

I asked hoarsely: “What does President Priya want to talk about?”

Priya curled her lips. Her gaze at me was tinged with helplessness: “Work. Is that okay?”

I nodded, the words catching in my throat. I wondered if she could hear the rickshaw bells and laughter of college kids nearby, the city moving on while we stood stuck in old pain.