Flashback — 2009____.
Outside a luxurious hospital, in front of the labor room, a young man paced back and forth, his footsteps restless against the marble floor.
A man in a black suit approached, whispered something into his ear. The young man—his striking blue eyes sharp even in worry—nodded, waving him away with a curt gesture.
Then—
A cry.
The loud, piercing cry of a newborn echoed through the corridor.
He froze. The doors to the labor room opened, and a nurse stepped out, a small bundle in her arms.
"It's a girl," she said softly, handing over the baby.
The young man held the child in trembling hands. She squirmed, letting out tiny cries, and for a brief instant, her eyelids fluttered open—revealing the same brilliant blue as his own. His throat tightened, his eyes filling with tears. For that heartbeat of a moment, the world was silent.
The doctor soon followed.
"Where is my wife?" the man asked anxiously.
"She's fine, sir. You may see her in a few hours," the doctor reassured.
Relief broke across his face. He lowered himself into the nearest chair, cradling the baby close, until four boys rushed toward him.
The eldest—about fifteen—stood tall and solemn. The others, all younger, hovered beside him; two of them barely above ten, their eyes wide with curiosity and awe.
The man bent slightly, his arms steady as he placed the newborn into the care of his eldest son.
"Take care of your sister," he said, his voice quiet but firm.
The boy cradled the infant protectively, a promise unspoken in his gaze. His younger brothers leaned closer, peeking at the tiny bundle, their faces glowing with wonder.
The young man straightened, drew in a long breath, and stepped outside the hospital doors. Black cars waited in the shadows, his men already lined in disciplined silence.
Their leader approached, bowed low, and said,
"Sir, we're ready. If we don't do it now… we'll never get another chance."
The man exhaled a cloud of smoke, his expression hardening. He nodded once.
"Let's go."
The convoy of black cars rolled into the deserted playground, headlights sweeping across the cracked concrete. Engines died one by one, and silence fell—heavy, waiting.
Across the open field, white cars already lined the edge. From their midst, men in crisp white suits stood like statues. Their leader stepped forward, tall and elegant, a faint smile cutting across his sharp face. His name was Caelan, a man whose calm cruelty was as well-known as his power.
Varma emerged from his car, his blue eyes gleaming coldly beneath the moonlight. Cigarette smoke curled from his lips before he flicked it aside. His men spread out behind him, silent shadows bristling with tension.
Caelan clapped his hands once, slow and mocking.
"Varma. Always the loyal king on the wrong side of the board." His voice was silk over steel.
Varma didn't flinch. "You've wasted my time, Caelan. Speak."
Caelan's smirk widened, eyes glittering with malice.
"I hear congratulations are in order. A daughter, is it? After four sons at last." He took a step closer, voice dropping to a hiss.
"But tell me—do you really think a fragile little girl will survive in your world? Or will she be the weakness that finally breaks you?"
The air thickened. Varma's fists clenched, the veins on his forearms tightening. For a heartbeat, silence cut deeper than any blade.
Then his voice came low, seething.
"Speak of my blood again, and you won't live to regret it."
Caelan tilted his head, smile unbroken.
"Then show me, Varma."
The first strike shattered the stillness. In an instant, the playground erupted into chaos.
Inside the hospital room, the four boys huddled close.
The eldest, Anandu, held the newborn carefully in his arms, her tiny breaths warm against his chest. The three younger brothers leaned in, their faces glowing with awe as they studied the little bundle wrapped in white.
The baby stirred, her small cry breaking the stillness. Anandu lowered his gaze, meeting her tear-streaked face. Then, as if drawn to him, her cries faded. Her blue eyes blinked open, and for a fleeting moment, she stared straight into his.
The room fell silent.
"She likes you, Anandu," one of the younger boys whispered, smiling in wonder.
Anandu's lips tightened, his eyes flicking back to the window where the full moon glowed bright and unyielding. He raised his head high, the baby still resting safely in his arms.
"With this moon as my witness," he said, his voice steady, resonant, "from this night forward, we four will guard her—with our blood, with our breath, with our very lives. No harm will touch her as long as we stand."
The younger brothers placed their hands on his shoulders, their eyes blazing with the same resolve.
"We promise," they echoed in unison.
In that moment, the bond was sealed—not just of siblings, but of guardians sworn by blood.
Then—
A shadow moved at the door.
The family's butler stepped in quietly, his face pale. He bowed low, his voice trembling.
"Young masters… something terrible has happened to your father."
The boys turned sharply, their hearts jolting.
"What happened to Father?" one demanded.
The butler lowered his head further, unable to meet their eyes.
And the scene cut to black.
Present __.
Aria walked into her hospital room, her steps quiet against the tiled floor. There was nothing to take with her—only her coat hanging by the chair. She slipped it on, tying the knot at her throat and pressing her hand into the pocket where a few notes of cash lay folded. That was all she carried.
Without a pause, she turned and left the ward. The corridors were hushed at this late hour, the lights dim, and by the time she reached outside, the city beyond felt wrapped in midnight silence.
She hailed a taxi and slid into the back seat. The driver gave her a quick glance in the mirror, then nodded when she murmured her address. The ride was wordless, the car moving through near-empty streets where streetlights spilled long shadows across the road. Aria leaned her head against the cool glass, watching the city blur past in streaks of yellow and black.
When the taxi stopped in front of her home, she paid the fare and stepped out, the night air crisp against her skin. Unlocking the door, she stepped into the house, expecting the silence of midnight to greet her. But she wasn't alone.
A middle-aged woman sat in the living room, tense, her hands clasped tightly together. The moment her eyes met Aria's, she shot up, rushing forward.
"Aria!" she cried, throwing her arms around her.
Aria's chest tightened as she clung to her. "Nanny…" The single word left her lips like a breath of relief.
Nanny pulled back just enough to search her face. "Are you alright, my dear? You don't know how frightened I was. You were gone, and I thought—" Her voice shook.
"I'm fine, Nanny," Aria whispered, though her voice trembled. "But you… you look so tense. What happened?"
Nanny's lips quivered. "When I came home earlier… I saw Ms. Sheela and young master Anurag. They were taking you away. You were unconscious, in Anurag's arms. I felt so helpless, Aria. I didn't know what they planned for you. I thought they were taking you forever."
Aria gripped her hand firmly. "But I'm here now. Don't be afraid. We'll be alright."
For a moment, the silence between them was thick, broken only by the faint ticking of the clock on the wall. Then Nanny brushed a loose strand of hair from Aria's face and tried to smile. "It's so late. You must be hungry. Come, let's have something to eat."
They sat together at the dining table, sharing a simple midnight meal, the warmth of it softening the weight of the day. When the plates were cleared, Aria rose, her body heavy with exhaustion.
"I'll go to my room, Nanny," she said softly.
"Rest well, my dear," Nanny replied, watching her climb the stairs with quiet love. "You're safe now."
Aria entered her room at last, the house quiet around her, and though her thoughts were still restless, the presence of Nanny downstairs steadied her heart.