Chapter 3 - The Watcher in the Glass
The man behind the glass did not look at Dev. His gaze locked with absolute venom onto the little girl in the yellow dress.
""Meera! Kabir!""
A sharp, panicked woman’s voice cut through the smog before the SUV could idle further. A woman in a simple green silk sari came running along the dusty pavement, her hair loose and face frantic. She grabbed both children, pulling them roughly into her chest. She cast a terrified glance toward the idling SUV, then down at Dev.
Dev looked up, his weathered gaze meeting hers. She was no older than thirty, with dark, sorrowful eyes rimmed in exhaustion. Her hands trembled violently as she checked Kabir’s limbs.
""Did they bother you, Baba?"" she asked breathlessly, her voice cracking. She had not yet noticed the foil container resting on the old man's lap, nor the silver ring concealed beneath his thumb. ""I am sorry... they slipped past the garden gate while I was... while I was packing.""
""They brought me life, daughter,"" Dev answered softly, tucking the signet into the torn inner lining of his grey shirt. ""Do not scold angels.""
The SUV’s engine revved aggressively, tires crunching against gravel as it pulled forward and parked right beside them, blocking the sun. The driver’s door opened, and a tall, impeccably groomed man in a charcoal suit stepped out. He carried an aura of polished cruelty.
""Asha,"" the man said smoothly, adjusting his cuffs. ""You let our niece and nephew play in the sewer with beggars? Is this how you honor my brother’s memory?""
Dev stiffened beneath his rags. The voice was smooth, cultured, and unmistakably that of Rajan Varma—his nephew's son, the heir apparent to an empire built on ashes.
Rajan turned his cold gaze toward Dev, his lip curling in disgust. ""Get lost, old rat, before I have the municipal van scrape you off this curb.""
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Dev kept his head bowed, staring at Rajan’s polished Italian leather shoes. But his mind was calculating. Brother’s memory. That meant Asha was the widow of Rajan's elder brother—the true heir who had died mysteriously just months ago.
As Rajan reached into his jacket, a small brass key slipped from his pocket and landed silently in the dust near Dev’s bare foot.
