He found her at ten PM on the fourteenth day.
Not at the office — at the apartment. She hadn't texted him when her plans changed. He had noted the absence at eight-fifteen when the office lights went out and she came downstairs and drove home instead of staying for the late work session he had expected. He had followed. Standard. He told himself it was standard.
He was in the lobby when the lights in her third-floor flat went on. He sat in the lobby chair that was worse than the corridor chair. At ten-fifteen, she appeared in the lobby. "I thought you'd be here," she said. "Come up."
He hesitated. "I can manage from the lobby—"
"Arjun. Please just come up. I need to tell you something and I don't want to do it in a lobby."
The apartment was exactly what he'd expected — a working space of a home. Bookshelves, maps on the wall, a secondhand table used as a desk. On the table: an open laptop and a folder of papers that she closed quickly when she saw him look at it. The first non-direct thing she had done in his presence, and therefore significant.
She made chai. She brought two cups and sat across from him at the table.
"At the pre-nuptial financial review," she said. "Six weeks ago. Rohit's family lawyers prepared documents — standard financial disclosure for the marriage agreement. I reviewed the Kapoor Industries documents. I saw something." She was very controlled. "Two subsidiaries. The numbers are wrong. Not wrong like an error — wrong like a design. Someone structured them to misrepresent the company's actual size and performance."
