Karan checked into the Taj Lands End penthouse suite at 9:15 p.m. the next evening under his own name—corporate card, “business meeting” excuse already texted to his wife. The room was obscene: panoramic sea view, king bed with 1000-thread-count sheets, marble bathroom bigger than his daughter’s nursery, and a private terrace where the Mumbai skyline glittered like it was mocking him.

Mia arrived twenty minutes later—black trench coat over nothing but red lace crotchless lingerie, sky-high stilettos, and a small black duffel that clinked with toys. She dropped the coat the second the door closed.