Our Secret Garden: A Rooftop Love — Part 8 | Romantic Thriller Series (The Ghost Inheritance)

Setting: Two hours into the gala. The party is reaching its peak—drugs circulate discreetly, couples disappear into private rooms, the music pulses with bass that vibrates through the floor.

The atmosphere is electric—champagne flows, laughter echoes, and in the center of it all stands The Chairman, flanked by his inner circle.

The Chairman: (Raising a crystal glass, his voice booming with satisfaction) "Tonight, we don't just celebrate the capture of two ambitious thieves. We celebrate the reassertion of order. Priya and Rohan thought they could steal our future. Instead, they've given us a perfect example of what happens when envy mistakes itself for power!"

(The crowd erupts in applause. Zara stands to his right, dressed in a stunning black gown that hugs every curve, a champagne flute in her manicured hand. Jax is positioned near the entrance, his eyes scanning the room with professional vigilance.)

Vikram: (Approaching The Chairman with a tablet, his voice eager) "Sir, the final sweep is complete. Sam's entire network has been dissolved. Thirty-two arrests, fourteen dead in the firefight. Rohan is in the holding cell on Sub-Level 2. Priya is... secured in the specialized containment on Sub-Level 4."

The Chairman: (A dark smile) "Specialized containment. I like the euphemism, Vikram. You mean the room where we break the ones who think they're too beautiful to suffer."

Vikram: "Precisely, sir. She's shackled, monitored, and completely isolated. Root-level encryption on the access. Only three people have the clearance codes: you, me, and Zara."

Zara: (Her eyes gleaming with cold satisfaction) "And Rohan? Is he talking yet?"

Vikram: "Screaming would be more accurate. He knows what's waiting for him. He keeps demanding to see Priya."

The Chairman: (Chuckling darkly) "Let him scream. Tomorrow morning, we'll bring him to her cell and let him watch what happens when I personally demonstrate the cost of betrayal. For now, let him marinate in his fear."

Setting: The Chairman's private bedroom. Opulent beyond measure—silk sheets the color of deep wine, ambient lighting that casts everything in shades of purple and gold. A bottle of expensive rye whiskey sits open on the bedside table.

The door closes with a soft click, and immediately, The Chairman's hands are on Zara's waist, pulling her against him.

The Chairman: "Do you know how long I've watched you? How often I've wondered if that cold precision of yours was armor... or invitation?"

Zara: (Her breath catches, but her voice remains controlled) "You're my superior. This crosses—"

The Chairman: (He cuts her off with a kiss—demanding, possessive) "This crosses nothing. This is the reward for loyalty. This is what separates the foot soldiers from the architects."

(Zara's resistance crumbles. Whether it's the alcohol, the adrenaline from the victory, or something darker—the forbidden nature of betraying Jax—she responds with sudden, fierce intensity.)

Zara: (Pulling back just enough to speak, her voice husky) "What about Jax?"

The Chairman: (A dark laugh) "Jax is standing outside, guarding a door. He's useful. But you, Zara... you're necessary. There's a difference."

(They move toward the bed, the world outside fading away. Zara's mind, usually so sharp and calculating, surrenders to the moment. For once, she allows herself to be ruled by desire rather than strategy.)

Zara: (Between kisses, her hands working at his shirt) "This is dangerous..."

The Chairman: (His voice a growl against her neck) "Everything worth having is."

Setting: The same bedroom, an hour later. The celebration outside has reached a crescendo—music pounding, voices raised in drunken revelry. Inside this private sanctuary, Zara and The Chairman are lost in their own world.

The room is a haze of bruised purple light and the heavy scent of spilled rye. Their clothes are scattered across the floor—her black gown draped over a chair, his shirt abandoned near the door.

The Chairman: (His voice thick and low, hands gripping Zara's waist as she straddles him) "Do you feel that, Zara? The world out there is celebrating our win, but here... here is where the real power is. I can feel your heart racing. Is it the drink, or is it the thrill of finally being at the top?"

Zara: (Breathing heavily, her lips trailing a path along his jawline, her usual cold precision replaced by desperate, alcohol-fueled hunger) "It's the silence, Chairman. For years, I've listened for every footstep, every digital ping. But tonight... I only want to hear you. I want to forget that Jax is standing outside like a loyal dog. I want to forget the 'Envy Romance' we just crushed."

The Chairman: (He pulls her face up, forcing her to look into his glazed, intense eyes) "You're a beautiful traitor, Zara. You're cheating on the very order you helped me build. Does it make you feel alive? To know that while they cheer for our strength, we are in here breaking every rule?"

Zara: (A seductive, dark smile playing on her lips as she pulls him closer) "Rules are for people like Rohan. For people who think love is a shield. We know better. We know that the only thing real is the weight of this body... and the heat of this moment. Don't talk. Just make me forget there's a world outside this bed."

Setting: Sub-Level 4, the specialized containment area. A stark contrast to the opulence above—cold concrete walls, harsh fluorescent lighting, the hum of ventilation systems. Priya is in a reinforced cell, her wrists shackled to the wall with high-tech restraints. She's still in her emerald silk dress, now torn and stained, her hair disheveled, face bruised from the capture.

The guard station outside her cell is empty—the two guards who were supposed to be on duty have been called upstairs to assist with gala security. A procedural error, or perhaps... something more deliberate.

In the corner of the ceiling, a security camera blinks its steady red light. But if anyone were watching the feed closely, they would notice something strange: the timestamp is looping. The same 30-second footage, over and over.

A soft hiss as a ventilation grate is carefully removed from inside the duct system. A figure drops down silently—dressed in black tactical gear, face obscured by a mask, movements precise and practiced.

The figure approaches the cell door's control panel. From a small pouch, they extract a device—a frequency emitter that shouldn't exist, technology that was buried with its creator five years ago.

The device interfaces with the control panel. Lines of code cascade across a tiny screen. Then, a soft beep. The magnetic locks disengage.

The cell door swings open.

Priya: (Her head snaps up, eyes wide with shock and confusion) "Who—how did you—"

The Figure: (A voice modulator disguises their identity, making it sound mechanical and emotionless) "Stay quiet. We don't have much time."

(The figure moves to Priya's shackles, producing a small, specialized blade—a frequency-blade that vibrates at a pitch that cuts through the reinforced alloy like butter. The shackles fall away.)

Priya: (Rubbing her wrists, her mind racing) "Why are you helping me? Who sent you? Is this The Chairman's game?"

The Figure: "The Chairman is... occupied. And the person who sent me died five years ago. But apparently, death is negotiable when you plan far enough ahead."

Priya: "That doesn't make any—"

The Figure: "I don't need you to understand. I need you to move. Now."

(They pull Priya toward the ventilation shaft. As they disappear into the duct system, the security camera continues its endless loop, and upstairs, in The Chairman's bedroom, Zara and The Chairman remain completely, blissfully unaware.)

Setting: The Chairman's bedroom, ninety minutes later. The peak of their intimacy. The air is thick, movement frantic, boundaries dissolved. They are tangled in wine-colored sheets, consumed by each other.

Suddenly, a sharp, shrill ring pierces the room—not the soft chime of a regular call, but the harsh, urgent tone of a Red-Level Priority Override. The emergency line that should never ring.

The Chairman: (Growling, trying to ignore it, his hands still on Zara) "Ignore it. Nothing is important enough to—"

Zara: (Her eyes snapping open, the soldier in her reacting instantly) "No. That's the Red-Level override. Only Vikram can trigger that. Something is wrong."

(The phone rings again, vibrating violently against the mahogany nightstand. The Chairman snatches it up, his face flushed with a mix of rage and lingering lust.)

The Chairman: (Roaring into the phone) "Vikram! This better be a confession of your own death, or I will ensure it becomes one!"

Vikram's Voice: (Panic-stricken, sounding like he's on the verge of a breakdown) "Chairman! Sir! Please! The sub-basement... the sensors... they're gone! Priya is gone! Someone bypassed the root-level encryption. The shackles were cut with a frequency-blade. We are in total lockdown, but we're chasing ghosts!"

The Chairman freezes. Every muscle in his body goes rigid. The heat in the room evaporates instantly, replaced by a chilling realization that cuts through the alcohol and desire like ice water.

He looks at Zara, who is already sitting up, pulling the dark silk robe around herself, her face returning to its mask of lethal stone.

The Chairman: (His voice dropping to a dangerous quiet) "What do you mean 'gone'? You are the Chief Security Officer! You have the keys! You have the protocols!"

Vikram: "Sir, the keys didn't work! It was an administrative override from an account that shouldn't exist. An account that's been dormant for five years! You need to come to the command center now. I'm already there. And Chairman... there's something else. Something you need to see." 

Zara: (Standing abruptly, her movements sharp and efficient, all traces of intimacy vanished) "Five years? That's not a hack, Chairman. That's an inheritance. That's someone who built the system."

The Chairman: (His face going pale, then flushing with fury) "No. He's dead. I buried him myself. I watched the cremation. I—"

Zara: "You watched a body burn. Did you verify the DNA? Did you confirm it was actually him?"

The Chairman: (A terrible silence, then) "Get dressed. Now. We're going to the command center."

Vikram (Over Phone): "Sir, there's more. The breach wasn't just Priya's cell. Someone accessed our entire surveillance network. They looped footage, disabled alarms, created blind spots throughout the building. And they left... they left a signature in the code."

The Chairman: (His hands gripping the phone so hard it might crack) "What signature?"

Vikram: (His voice shaking) "It's written in a programming language only one person ever used. Your nephew's signature style. Sir, I think... I think Aryan is alive."

Setting: Still the bedroom. The Chairman hangs up abruptly and moves with military efficiency. The romantic mood is completely obliterated. This is crisis mode.

The Chairman: (Already pulling on his shirt, his movements sharp and angry) "This is impossible. Aryan is dead. I made sure of it."

Zara: (Stepping behind a privacy screen to change, her voice clinical and professional) "You made sure of a cremation. That's not the same as making sure of a death. If someone with resources wanted to fake it—someone with technical skills, with planning—it could be done."

The Chairman: "But why wait five years? Why now?"

Zara: (Emerging from behind the screen, now in dark tactical pants and a fitted black top—the Valentino gown abandoned on a chair like a discarded costume) "Because now he has leverage. Priya and Rohan weren't just thieves—they were tools. They created chaos, exposed vulnerabilities, made you paranoid and reactive. Classic misdirection while the real threat positioned itself."

The Chairman: (Buttoning his shirt with violent efficiency, his face a mask of cold fury) "Then we end it. Tonight. I want every team mobilized. I want every contact activated. I want the city locked down until we find them."

Zara: (Pulling her hair back into a severe ponytail, checking her phone) "I'll coordinate with Jax. Get Team Bravo deployed immediately."

The Chairman: (Pausing, looking at her directly for the first time since the call) "Jax. Will he respond to your orders after... tonight?"

Zara: (Meeting his gaze, her expression unreadable) "He's a professional. His personal feelings won't interfere with the mission."

The Chairman: "Are you sure about that?"

Zara: (A slight edge to her voice) "I'm sure he values his position more than his wounded pride. I'll handle Jax. You handle Vikram. We regroup in the command center in ten minutes."

Setting: The Chairman and Zara emerge from the private quarters. He's in a fresh suit—charcoal gray, perfectly tailored, every inch the emperor. She's in tactical gear—efficient, dangerous, ready for war. They could be two completely different people from the ones who entered that bedroom.

The moment Zara and The Chairman enter the space, Jax's eyes go to them. He takes in everything in an instant: The Chairman's slightly disheveled appearance despite the fresh clothes. Zara's transformation from gala-ready to tactical-ready. The way they emerge from the private quarters together. 

His expression hardens.

The Chairman: (Not noticing or not caring about Jax's reaction) "Jax. Good. You're here. We have a situation."

Jax: (His voice professionally neutral, but his eyes never leaving Zara) "So I gathered from the emergency call. Priya escaped from Sub-Level 4. Impossible security breach. What do you need from Team Bravo?"

The Chairman: "Full deployment. I want the city swept for Priya and for someone we thought was dead but apparently isn't. My nephew, Aryan."

Jax: (His expression flickering with genuine surprise) "Aryan? Sir, you said—"

The Chairman: "I said he was dead. I was wrong. Or I was lied to. Either way, he's apparently alive and he just broke Priya out of our most secure facility. I want him found. Tonight."

Vikram: Sir, I have the code analysis ready. You need to see this immediately."

The Chairman: (To Jax) "We're going to the command center. I need you there. Call in your team leaders for briefing within the hour."

Jax: "Understood, sir."

(The Chairman moves toward the existt with Vikram. Zara starts to follow, but Jax's voice stops her.)

The Chairman: "Zara! Now! We don't have time for whatever this is!"

Zara: (Stepping back from Jax, her professional mask sliding back into place) "We're not done talking about this, Jax."

The Chairman: (To Zara as she reaches them) "What was that about?"

Zara: (Smoothly) "Jax needed clarification on deployment protocols. He's... processing the personal implications of tonight. But I think he'll perform his duties."

The Chairman: (Not particularly interested) "Good. Let's move. We're wasting time talking when we should be hunting."

The Chairman: "Show me."

(Vikram pulls up the security footage from Sub-Level 4. But the timestamp is wrong—it's looping, showing the same thirty seconds over and over. Then he pulls up the override code.)

Vikram: "Here. This is the administrative command that unlocked Priya's shackles and disabled the magnetic locks. It came from an account that was created fifteen years ago and was supposed to be permanently deleted when... when your nephew died."

The Chairman: (Leaning in, studying the code) "That's... that's Aryan's syntax. His structure. But it's impossible. The account was terminated."

Vikram: "It was hidden, sir. Not terminated. Someone with deep system access could have kept it dormant, invisible to our regular security sweeps. And tonight, they activated it."

Zara: "The frequency-blade. Where would someone even get that technology? Those were proprietary tools Aryan developed for cutting through reinforced materials."

Vikram: (Pulling up another screen) "That's not the worst part. Look at this."

(He displays a message embedded in the override code. Written in green text:)

"Uncle, you buried the wrong ghost. The real inheritance is just beginning. - A."

The Chairman: (His hands gripping the edge of the desk, knuckles white) "Aryan."

Zara: "Sir, if he's alive, if he's been planning this for five years, then Priya's escape isn't just about her. It's about—"

The Chairman: (Cutting her off, his voice tight with barely controlled rage) "It's about revenge. Everything. Priya and Rohan's betrayal. The Luxembourg companies being compromised. The timing. It's all connected. Aryan has been orchestrating this from the shadows."

Vikram: (Nervously) "Sir, there's something else. I've been analyzing our internal security logs for the past six months. There have been... anomalies. System accesses that I thought were just glitches. Information requests from accounts that shouldn't have clearance. Someone has been inside our network, watching, learning, preparing."

The Chairman: "For how long?"

Vikram: "At least two years. Possibly longer. Whoever did this has had complete visibility into our operations. They knew where Priya was being held. They knew the guard rotations. They knew the security protocols. They knew everything because they've been watching everything."

Zara: (Her tactical mind racing) "Then we're compromised. Completely. We can't trust our own systems."

The Chairman: "Find Priya. Find Aryan. I want every resource we have focused on locating them. Deploy every team. Use every contact. And Vikram—I want you to shut down every backdoor, every vulnerability, every ghost in our network. Burn it all down and rebuild if you have to. But I want my systems secure."

Vikram: (His voice shaking, but his eyes steady) "Yes, sir. I'll begin immediately."

(The Chairman turns to Zara.)

The Chairman: "Get Jax. I want his tactical teams deployed within the hour. Full mobilization. If Aryan is alive, he won't be for long."

Setting: The high-tech command center, Vikram stands before a wall of monitors, his hands trembling as he pulls up security footage and code analysis. The Chairman enters, hastily dressed, Zara right behind him in tactical gear.

Jax: (His voice low, meant only for her) "Zara. A word."

Zara: (Pausing, not turning to face him) "We don't have time for personal conversations, Jax. This is a crisis."

Jax: (Stepping closer, his voice dropping to something dangerous) "Oh, I think you'll want to hear this. Thirty seconds. Might change everything you think you know about tonight."

Zara: (Finally turning, her face guarded) "What are you talking about?"

Jax: (His eyes locked on hers, quiet but lethal) "I'm not a fool, Zara. I want you to understand that clearly. I'm not some lovesick soldier who doesn't see what's happening."

Zara: "Jax, if this is about me and The Chairman—"

Jax: (Cutting her off) "Every private meeting. Every lingering look. Every calculated touch. I've watched you position yourself, step by step, to become more than just his tactical director."

Zara: (Her expression flickering—surprise quickly masked) "You've been watching me?"

Jax: (A cold smile) "I'm head of tactical operations. Watching is what I do. The real question is—why haven't I stopped it?"

Zara: (Her voice cautious now) "Why haven't you?"

Jax: (Taking another step closer, barely above a whisper) "Because I wanted to see if you'd choose him. Or if you'd choose us."

(A beat. The weight of shared history hangs between them—missions that went sideways, bullets dodged together, secrets kept in the dark. Things that don't need to be counted or measured because they're written in scar tissue.)

Jax: "That kind of bond doesn't break easily. But I needed to know if you were truly willing to throw it away for power."

Zara: (Her jaw tightening) "So this is what? A test? You let me walk into The Chairman's bedroom as some kind of loyalty examination?"

Jax: "I let you make a choice. Because if I'd stopped you—if I'd confronted you earlier—you would never have shown me who you really are. You would have adjusted, adapted, played a different game. But tonight? Tonight I got my answer."

Zara: (Her voice sharp, defensive) "And what answer is that?"

Jax: (His expression hardening, and there's real pain underneath the anger) "That you chose ambition over loyalty. That you value a seat at The Chairman's table more than everything we built together. That when it came down to it, you were willing to sleep with the man who owns us both just to get closer to power."

Zara: "You're oversimplifying—"

Jax: (His voice rising, control slipping) "Am I? Because from where I'm standing, it looks pretty goddamn simple. The Chairman wanted you. You wanted his favor. You both got what you wanted. And I get to watch the woman I trusted more than anyone become just another person willing to do anything to climb higher."

Zara: (Stepping very close to him now, her voice intense, almost pleading) "You don't know what you're talking about. You don't know the pressures, the calculations, the survival required to operate at this level. I did what I had to do."

Jax: "No. You did what you wanted to do. And you know what the worst part is?"

(He pauses, and when he speaks again, his voice is quieter, more dangerous.)

Jax: "I could have stopped this. I could have ended this entire game months ago."

Zara: (Her eyes narrowing) "What do you mean?"

Jax: (Leaning in, his voice deadly quiet) "I mean I have information that would destroy The Chairman. Evidence of operations that even his corrupted politicians couldn't protect him from. Recordings. Documents. Proof of crimes that would bring down this entire empire."

(A pause. The kind that changes everything.)

Jax: "I've been collecting it, Zara. Insurance. Protection. A way out if things ever went too far."

Zara: (Her breath catching—this is genuinely shocking) "You've been... you've been building a case against The Chairman? While working for him?"

Jax: "While working for him. While watching him. While understanding that eventually, empires like this fall. And when they do, the smart soldiers make sure they're not buried in the rubble. So yes, I could end this. I could trigger a collapse that would put The Chairman in prison and tear apart everything he's built."

Zara: (Processing this, her tactical mind racing) "Then why haven't you?"

Jax: (His eyes burning into hers, and there's something raw there—hurt, hope, fury all tangled together) "Because I wanted to give you a chance. I wanted to see if the woman I knew—the brilliant, dangerous, loyal woman I partnered with—was still in there. Or if The Chairman had already turned you into just another weapon he wields."

Zara: "So tonight was—"

Jax: "A test. And you failed it, Zara. You chose him. You chose power. You chose to become his lover instead of remaining my partner. And that tells me everything I need to know about where your loyalties actually lie."

The Chairman: "Zara! Now!"

Jax: (Not breaking eye contact with Zara) "You should go. The Chairman doesn't like to be kept waiting. Especially not by the woman who just shared his bed."

Zara: (Her voice low, urgent, almost desperate) "Jax, if you have evidence that could bring him down—if you've been planning this—why are you telling me now? Why not just use it?"

Jax: (A slight, bitter smile that doesn't reach his eyes) "Because I'm giving you one last chance to choose a side. The Chairman thinks he's in control. But in forty-eight hours—maybe less—this empire is going to face a reckoning it's not prepared for. Aryan being alive? Priya escaping? That's just the beginning. And when the real collapse starts, you're going to have to decide: do you go down with The Chairman, or do you stand with the people who are tearing him apart?"

Zara: (Staring at him, pieces clicking together) "You're working with Aryan. You're part of whatever this is."

Jax: (His expression unreadable) "I'm working for my own survival. And I'm telling you—warning you—that the game you think you're playing? It's so much bigger than you realize. The Chairman is surrounded by ghosts, Zara. And they're all waiting for the right moment to strike."

The Chairman: (Angry now) "ZARA!"

Jax: (Stepping back, his voice returning to something flatter, more professional, but the emotion still simmering underneath) "You should go. Wouldn't want to disappoint the boss on your first night together."

(He pauses, and when he speaks again, it's quieter, almost sad.)

Jax: "But remember what I said. When this collapses—when The Chairman falls—you'll have a choice to make. Choose wisely."

Zara: (Her face a mask, but her eyes betraying uncertainty, fear, maybe regret) "Team Bravo—"

Jax: (His voice flat, giving nothing away) "Will handle what needs to be handled. I'm still a professional, Zara. Unlike some people, I don't let personal feelings compromise the mission."

(A beat. His eyes lock on hers one more time.)

Jax: "But don't mistake professionalism for loyalty. Those are two very different things now."

(Zara stares at him for one more moment—trying to read him, trying to understand if he's bluffing or if he really does have the power to end everything. Trying to understand if Team Bravo is going after Priya and Rohan or if they're part of something else entirely. His face gives her nothing.)