Alka’s mask crumbles. Her eyes turn into slits. "You think this is over, Abhishek? I have copies. I have witnesses. Your father promised me marriage. He touched my hand in the garden. I’ll call it harassment. I’ll take half of everything."

"Dadaji, may I speak?"

Just as the shouting escalates, Suman walks to the center of the courtyard. She kneels down at Chandrakant’s feet, touching them.

He looks up, his eyes red. "You saved us. My father’s dignity. My mother’s sanity. The mill. Everything. And I... I never even thanked you for the small things. For making my tea. For waiting up for me. For smiling even when they all ignored you."

"Your mother didn't know," Chandrakant says, his voice cracking with age and pain. "I was a fool. A lonely, old fool." He finally looks at Alka. "You told me your husband’s debts would be paid if I signed over the mill. That you would give me companionship in my old age. But you never loved me. You loved the Suryavanshi vault."

The episode opens under a starless, heavy sky. The air in the Suryavanshi mansion is thick enough to cut with a knife. In the ornate central courtyard, lit by dim, golden diyas, the entire family has gathered. Chandrakant Suryavanshi (Dadaji), his face a mask of stone, sits on the royal gaddi . Beside him, his wife, Rukmini, looks down at her hands, her lips trembling.

Mohan takes a breath. "Sir, the deed to the ancestral textile mill, the one you transferred to Mrs. Alka Verma’s name last month... the signatures are not yours."