The clock in the hallway struck eleven-thirty. Priya had taken her sleeping pill an hour earlier, the same white capsule she swallowed every night like clockwork, ensuring she wouldn’t stir until morning. Rajesh waited in the master bedroom until her breathing turned slow and deep, then slipped out barefoot, wearing only loose cotton pyjama bottoms that did nothing to hide the heavy, upward curve of his erection.

The servants’ quarters were at the far end of the ground floor, past the laundry room and the back staircase. Maya’s room was the smallest one—barely ten by twelve feet, furnished with a single metal cot, a steel almirah, and a narrow window that overlooked the compound wall. The door was ajar, a thin strip of yellow light spilling into the corridor like an invitation.