Raj replayed the video again and again, every frame burning into his brain.
The grainy warehouse.
His father's voice raised in protest.
And the face of a man who, today, sat in Delhi's Parliament with polished speeches and fake patriotism.
Minister Arvind Malhotra.
Raj's jaw clenched so hard it hurt. Malhotra had been hailed as a reformer, a "man of the people." But in that clip, he was something else—a predator cornering prey.
Sameer whispered, "Sir… if this is real, Malhotra's your father's killer."
Raj's eyes never left the screen.
"Not killer. Conspirator. Real killers don't dirty their hands—they sign cheques and sip whiskey while others bleed."
He slammed the laptop shut, pacing.
"If Malhotra was involved, then my father died not because of rivals… but because of politics. And that means—"
Sameer swallowed. "—that means you're not just playing against businessmen anymore. You're playing against the government."
Raj's lips curled into something between a grin and a snarl.
"Good. Then it's time the government learns who they're dealing with."
Scene Shift: Meera's Office – Day
Meera sat across from a team of analysts, her sharp gaze scanning Raj's empire's financials.
"Layered shell companies in Mauritius, Singapore, and Dubai," one analyst reported nervously. "Money flowing in circles. It's almost impossible to trace."
"Almost?" Meera pressed.
The analyst hesitated. "Well… there's a pattern. Every time a shell company shuts down, another opens within twenty-four hours. Same capital, same directors with different names."
Meera smirked. "Sloppy arrogance. He thinks we'll be too slow to connect the dots."
She scribbled notes, her mind racing.
If she could expose Raj's money trail, it would catapult her career. From just another bureaucrat… to someone the system couldn't ignore.
Her phone buzzed. A message from her mentor inside the ministry.
"Careful with Rathore. He doesn't just buy assets. He buys people."
Meera replied without hesitation.
"Good thing I'm not for sale."
Scene Shift: Raj's Safehouse – Evening
Raj sat in front of a map of Delhi, red pins marking Malhotra's known associates. Lobbyists. Bureaucrats. Contractors.
He lit a cigarette, his voice calm but dangerous.
"Every empire has cracks. Malhotra's no different. I'll pull one thread and watch his kingdom unravel."
Sameer asked carefully, "Which thread?"
Raj tapped the map. A construction company in Gurgaon. Malhotra's brother-in-law's firm. On paper, clean. In reality, riddled with bribes and false tenders.
"Dig there," Raj ordered. "If I expose one scam tied to him, his entire house of cards collapses."
Sameer hesitated. "And Meera Chauhan? She's already sniffing around your accounts. If she stumbles into this—"
Raj's eyes glinted.
"Then she'll be standing in quicksand without realizing it. Let her dig. The deeper she goes, the harder she'll sink."
Scene Shift: Delhi High Society Gala – Night
Chandeliers glittered, violins played, politicians and tycoons clinked glasses. Raj entered like a storm in a tuxedo, his presence magnetic and dangerous.
Whispers followed him.
"That's Raj Rathore…"
"Too young, too fast. He'll burn out."
"Or burn everyone else first."
Across the hall, Meera arrived in a black evening gown, subtle but commanding. She hadn't come for pleasure—this gala was a networking ground, a place where deals whispered behind champagne glasses often decided the fate of nations.
Their eyes met across the room.
For a moment, the music, the chatter, the clinking glasses—all faded.
Predator locked on predator.
Raj's smirk widened. He raised his glass slightly, like a challenge.
Meera didn't smile back. She turned to a politician and began speaking, deliberately ignoring him.
Raj chuckled under his breath.
"So that's how she wants to play."
Scene Shift: Balcony of the Gala
Later, Meera stepped out for air, the night cool against her skin. She sensed rather than saw him before he spoke.
Raj leaned casually against the railing, whiskey in hand.
"Careful, Miss Chauhan. People might think we planned this rendezvous."
Meera didn't look at him. "I don't do rendezvous. Especially not with criminals."
Raj's laugh was low, rich, unsettling.
"Criminal? That's a strong word. You've barely started your investigation."
She finally turned, eyes sharp. "And yet I've already found enough to bury you."
Raj stepped closer, invading her space but not touching her. His voice dropped, intimate and threatening.
"Bury me? Or dig yourself into my world? Because once you step into the shadows, Meera, there's no going back."
For a heartbeat, her breath caught. Not in fear—but in that dangerous space where anger and attraction blur.
She pushed past him, her heels clicking.
"You're nothing but a storm, Rathore. And storms… always pass."
Raj's smile lingered as he watched her leave.
"We'll see, Meera. We'll see."
As Raj re-entered the gala, his phone buzzed again. Another message from the unknown number.
This time, a single sentence.
"If you want the full truth about your father… trust no one in this room tonight."
Raj's eyes swept the glittering crowd—politicians, bureaucrats, tycoons.
And then they landed back on Meera, standing poised, laughing lightly with a minister.
For the first time, Raj wasn't sure.
Was she his enemy… or part of the conspiracy?