“Excellent,” the man replied. “We’ve heard good things about the property.”
“I’m sure you have.” Her tone remained easy. She turned to Desai. “Bhaiya ji, please sit in the office. Tea is ready. You must be tired after the drive. I’ll show the Haveli myself.”
Desai hesitated.
“The tea is fresh. Adrak wali.”
He paused. Looked at the representative. Looked at Meera. Considered the tea he wanted more than he wished to admit. “Fine.”
Meera turned before satisfaction could reach her face and led the representative toward the entrance.
She showed him the Haveli with care that bordered on devotion. The carved gate. The fountain that had run for centuries without a pump change, built by hands that understood mechanics better than modern engineers. The stone screens that broke sunlight into patterns across the floors.
Dates. Materials. History. All of it true. Nothing exaggerated.
He took notes. He was impressed. He was beginning to look like a man making up his mind.
‘Not yet. We haven’t visited the ancestors.’
The portrait gallery greeted them with thick walls and narrow windows. Oil paintings lined every surface. Anand ancestors watched from their frames, dark eyes, expressions suggesting they had seen many things and found most of them disappointing.
Meera stopped before one. “Thakur Shiv Kumar Anand. 1847. During British rule, an officer tried to pressure the family into giving up part of the Haveli. For military use.”
The representative glanced up. “And?”
“He failed.”
She let the words sit.
“Records mention a sudden fever.”
Another beat.
“He was dead within a month.”
His mouth curved in doubt. “Families tend to add drama to their stories.”
“Oh, of course.”
She moved to the next portrait. “This is Thakur Girdhar Kumar Anand. 1923.”
Her gaze lingered on the painted face. “He tried to mortgage part of the Haveli.”
A breath passed.
“His textile business collapsed within a year.”
The representative’s pen slowed.
“Coincidence, of course,” Meera added helpfully.
“Of course.”
Her attention flicked past him. Rajan stood near the corridor entrance, half hidden. Waiting. Watching for the signal. She gave the smallest nod.
His expression was… specific. The look of someone following instructions he found both thrilling and slightly terrifying.
The lights went out.
