Chapter 10 - The Glass Tower
The top floor of the Varma Tower gleamed with floor-to-ceiling glass overlooking the sprawling expanse of New Delhi. Inside the mahogany-paneled boardroom, the atmosphere was suffocating. Ten directors, all men of immense wealth and questionable morals, sat around an oval table made of polished Brazilian oak.
At the far end sat Asha.
She looked small, frail, and utterly alone in her black mourning sari. In front of her lay a thick stack of legal documents—the transfer of power that would surrender all voting shares of the Varma logistics network to Rajan’s dummy corporation in Dubai. Beside her chair, Meera sat quietly on the carpet, holding Kabir in her lap. Kabir was sucking his thumb, his large brown eyes wide with fear at the angry, impatient murmurs of the men in suits.
""Sign the documents, Asha,"" demanded Mr. Singhania, the senior board member and Rajan’s primary conspirator. He checked his gold Rolex; it was 4:50 PM. ""Rajan has been delayed by an urgent matter, but he has our full proxy. If you do not sign before five, we will declare the estate insolvent. You will leave this room with nothing, and the state will take custody of your children.""
Asha wiped a tear from her cheek, her hand trembling as she picked up the silver fountain pen. ""You all swore loyalty to my husband,"" she wept. ""He trusted you.""
""Your husband is dead!"" Singhania snapped, slamming his palm onto the table. Kabir flinched and began to sob quietly. ""Business is not built on loyalty. It is built on power. Sign!""
Asha lowered the pen toward the paper. Meera pulled at her mother's sari, whispering desperately, ""Ma, don't. The kind Dada from the road... he had eyes like Papa. He told me angels protect us.""
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""Quiet, child!"" Singhania roared.
Before the nib of the pen could touch the signature line, the heavy double doors of the boardroom were blown open with a concussive bang that shook the glass walls.
