The Hidden Face?

My Cruel Love..

Previously..

(A crucial design file was swapped.

Arman demanded answers.

Maya's calm but powerful speech shook the team.

No one confessed.

And trust. was broken.)

No. even after everything, the culprit didn't come forward. As if none of it mattered to them. Maybe they were so confident—so sure—that they had executed their plan perfectly, that no one could ever trace it back to them. Despite the threats and questions flying around, they truly believed they'd remain hidden behind the curtain of conspiracy.

The room was filled with a heavy, chilling silence. On one side, people sat frozen. On the other, Arman—legs crossed, gaze intense—remained lost in thought. His expression was hard, unwavering. While Maya was delivering her powerful speech, Arman's sharp eyes swept across the room like a radar—analyzing every face, reading every reaction. The weight of his gaze was so intense that those it landed on instinctively lowered their heads, as if guilty or afraid.

As Maya finished, Arman's eyes swept the room once more—this time, with even more intensity. Suddenly, he looked at Abir and gave a subtle nod. Abir understood instantly. In a firm, calm voice, he stood and said,

"Alright… if the guilty party won't come forward, we'll find them our own way. On our terms."

No drama. No shouting. Just quiet determination.

Abir turned to two staff from the security team. "Pull up the CCTV footage. Right now. Start reviewing everything."

A wave of silent panic surged through the room. Like a quiet explosion, the tension hit everyone at once. No one spoke. All you could hear was the pounding of hearts—time itself seemed to stand still.

Now, the rules of the game had changed. Arman and his team were in control. Everyone else? Just spectators.

A few moments later, one of the security officers displayed an important clip on the large screen. Every pair of eyes locked onto the footage.

The video showed a woman entering the security control room in the dead of night. She wore a sari—but her entire body was hidden beneath a shawl. She moved with eerie precision, as though every step had been carefully calculated.

Within seconds, the two guards inside the control room were shown collapsed on the floor—unconscious. The woman glided over to the terminal, her fingers dancing over the keyboard with unsettling skill. She wasn't just deleting footage—she was targeting specific clips, especially those that showed her entering the building.

It was as if… she had never been there at all.

When her task was complete, she calmly exited the room, her face still hidden under the shawl. The security footage made it feel like a shadow had walked through the corridors—one that left no trace.

Then, in the next clip, the same figure was seen walking to the hallway outside Maya's cabin. Within seconds, she turned off the corridor lights—plunging everything into darkness.

Nothing more could be seen.

The room fell deeper into silence. You could hear people breathing—shallow, shaky.

Everyone—except Arman—was glued to the screen, watching every second of that haunting footage.

When the clip ended, a strange tension settled across the hall. No one spoke. But everyone was thinking the same thing:

Who was that woman?

Then slowly… all eyes turned toward one corner of the room—where Disha sat quietly in her wheelchair.

As if pulled by an invisible force, the stares settled on her—one by one.

At first, Disha didn't understand. But when she realized all the eyes were fixed on her, her entire body went cold. She looked around, then down at her hands—clutching them tightly in her lap.

She was visibly trembling. Beads of sweat trickled down her forehead. Panic flickered in her eyes—as if she was standing in total darkness, with a blinding spotlight suddenly aimed at her face.

Her hands were shaking. She pulled out a handkerchief and wiped her forehead.

Then, her voice cracked as she stammered, "W-Why… why are you all looking at me like that? T-That woman… it's not me. I swear, it's not…"

But her words lacked strength—crumbling under the weight of disbelief. It sounded like even she didn't believe herself. Or maybe… she just desperately wanted everyone else to.

The room stayed frozen. No one said a word. Only Disha's trembling voice echoed in the air.

Then came the boy from the canteen—Sameer—the one who had brought tea to the security guards that night. He had been summoned to testify.

The room remained hushed—each second ticking like a drumbeat.

Arman lifted his eyes and looked directly at Sameer.

The boy instantly began to shake. His voice wavered, breaking down with fear. He stuttered,

"S…Sorry, sir… I—I made a mistake.Miss D-Disha… she told me to… mix something in the tea. I didn't know… I swear… I—I just did what she said…"

To be continued…