Mumbai's rain never stops for anyone, and today it felt as if even the sky was weeping over Aryav's fate.
Outside a small office located in a narrow lane of Kurla, Aryav Singh stood still. In his hand was a white envelope, slowly melting under the raindrops, yet the word written on it— "TERMINATION" — still shone clearly.
"Sir, just one last chance… my mother is ill," Aryav's voice drowned in the noise of the rain.
From inside came Manager Khanna's bitter voice, "Chances are given to capable people, Aryav. 'Failures' like you only exist to increase the crowd. Born middle class, you'll die middle class. Don't show me your face again. Get lost!"
Aryav said nothing. He simply looked at his soaked, torn slippers and turned away. Anger? No. He no longer felt anger. He had grown used to it. At 24, this was the third job he had lost. The room rent, his sister's fees, his mother's treatment… everything blurred in a single moment.
He stood by the roadside, getting drenched, when suddenly a gleaming black Rolls-Royce stopped right in front of him. Splashes of mud stained his old shoes.
The rear window of the car slowly rolled down. Inside sat an elderly man, with a strange glint in his eyes and deep suspense written across his face.
"Aryav Singh?" the man's voice was heavy and measured.
Aryav blinked his wet eyelashes. "Yes? Who are you? I don't recognize you."
The old man smiled faintly. "You may not recognize us, but we have been looking for you for the past twenty years. In fact… we have been protecting you."
A crease formed on Aryav's forehead. "Protecting? Me? Sir, I'm just an ordinary unemployed young man. You must have the wrong address."
"Are you truly ordinary, Aryav?" The old man extended a black leather file toward him. On top of it, in red letters, was a seal — 'CONFIDENTIAL: HEIR IDENTIFIED.'
As Aryav reached out with trembling hands to touch the file, a sound tore through the silence.
'Bang!!'
A bullet shattered the rear window of the car. Aryav jerked backward and fell. Chaos erupted on the street.
"They know! They've come to kill you!" the old man shouted. "Get in the car, Aryav! Now!"
From across the street, two masked bikers sped toward them. Guns were in their hands. Aryav's mind went numb. A moment ago he had been mourning his poverty; the next moment, death was chasing him. Without thinking, he jumped inside the car. The driver screeched the tires, turned sharply, and sped away.
"What is happening? Who are these people?" Aryav asked, breathless.
The old man wiped his sweat. "They are pawns of the Shadow Order. The same people who seized your father's empire. And now they want to eliminate you as well because you are not a 'zero,' Aryav… you are the sole heir of the empire the world once knew as 'Singh Global.'"
Bullets rained again from behind. Aryav looked out the window—death was chasing him. But strangely… even amidst the fear, a different kind of cold fire burned in his eyes for the first time.
He opened the file. On the first page was a childhood photograph of him, and beside it a picture of a massive office building… outside which was written — 'SINGH GLOBAL EMPIRE.'
A cold smile curved on Aryav's lips. The world had considered him a 'zero,' but now he understood—when a zero takes its rightful place, it changes the value of the entire world.
Locking eyes with the old man, Aryav asked in a calm voice,
"If I want my empire back… who do I eliminate first?"