**Episode 16: Uprising**
Morning in Dhaka wasn't the same anymore.
Newsstands were empty — every paper snatched within minutes. Social media exploded with clips from the broadcast. Hashtags like **#ExposeReza**, **#AhsanTruth**, and **#MeryxLeaks** trended across South Asia.
In the streets, something rare was stirring: **outrage with purpose**.
---
**Zone-C, Old Dhaka —**
A group of university students marched through the narrow alleys, waving hand-painted banners:
*"NO MORE SHADOW KINGS"*
*"WE STAND WITH AYAAN"*
They weren't alone. Shopkeepers joined in. Office workers. Delivery men. Even members of the police watched silently, unsure which side to stand on.
---
**Zone-B, Gulshan —**
Inside a luxury café, three powerful businessmen stared at the silent TV screen as their names flashed in a breaking news report.
One of them stood abruptly. "If our names are out there… we're targets."
The second nodded. "The people won't forget this."
The third? He simply muttered: "Neither will Reza."
---
**Parliament, Dhaka**
A state of emergency session was called.
Half the cabinet was missing.
The Speaker's voice echoed through the chamber: "We demand a formal investigation into the Black Dune exposé… or we resign."
Cameras captured it all.
The government was cracking. The public was watching. And **Ayaan's name became a symbol** — of rebellion, of exposure, of justice.
---
**Meanwhile, in a crowded market**, an elderly man wiped his eyes while watching the re-broadcast on a cracked TV outside a tea stall.
"That boy... that's Ziaul's grandson, isn't it?" he said to no one in particular.
A vendor nearby nodded. "He's got his fire."
---
**But not everyone celebrated.**
In the shadows, those who had funded Reza — silent partners, foreign fixers, corrupt diplomats — were preparing to disappear. Files were burned. Accounts closed. Phones smashed.
Reza had been exposed — but not destroyed.
**And when a beast is cornered… it becomes dangerous.**
---
**That night, Ayaan stood on a rooftop, watching the city.**
The lights looked different now. The noise of Dhaka had changed. People were waking up — angry, alert, hopeful.
Elina joined him, holding a folded newspaper. Ayaan's photo was on the front page. Below it: **"The Heir Who Declared War."**
"They believe in you now," she said quietly.
Ayaan didn't answer for a moment. Then:
"Then we can't let them down."
**To be continued…**