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Her cries echo through the silence. No one is there to hear her. Fear crawls up her spine like ice. This kind of darkness is so absolute and heavy that it drains the air from the room. She lets out a heart-wrenching scream, her voice cracking from panic.

"Open the door... Papa... Mom, please..."

She tries to make out shapes in the blackness, her eyes straining, but there is nothing—only this oppressive void. Jhankar, who may be brave in daylight, has always been terrified of the dark and of isolation. Her chest begins to tighten; her breaths come in jagged, panicked gasps.

"Papa... Mom..."

No answer.

The silence is louder than any noise. She begins stepping back slowly, carefully, when suddenly, a sensation strikes. As if something moved beneath her. Her heart lurches. She lets out a blood-curdling scream and begins running blindly in all directions. Her arms stretch out to feel for walls or furniture, but there’s only the unknown.

In her panic, she loses her footing and crashes to the ground, her head hitting the cold floor with a sickening thud. Everything fades into stillness. She falls unconscious.

~~~

By now, night has turned to morning. But there has been no word from the doctors. Vikrant is pacing relentlessly outside the operation theater. He hasn’t sat down for even a moment. His eyes, bloodshot and restless, keep drifting toward the thick, frosted glass of the OT door. He presses his face to it, trying desperately to catch even the faintest glimpse inside. But it's no use.

Ravindra watches his son from a distance, helpless. He has never seen Vikrant like this so anxious, so shattered, so utterly broken. The great mafia king now looks like a boy whose entire world rests on the other side of that door. As hour after hour slips by in silence, Vikrant starts to unravel. He suddenly charges at the door, banging on it with both fists.

"Open the door! What are the doctors doing inside? It's been seven hours! My mother is there, and no one is saying anything!"

Ravindra immediately rushes to restrain him, trying to pull him away, but Vikrant’s desperation turns to madness. He pushes his father’s hand aside and continues pounding on the door. His voice rises in rage and anguish.

"Someone open this damn door! What the hell is going on in there?!"

The bodyguards rush to intervene, trying to calm him down, but Vikrant throws them off with violent resistance. His fury has reached a boiling point. Just then, the door opens. A doctor steps out. Before he can say anything, Vikrant grabs his collar and slams him against the wall.

"You kept my mother inside for seven hours and said nothing… Do you have any idea what I’m going through?… What happened to my mother?!"

"Please, sir... calm down..."

The hospital staff stands frozen in fear. This is Vikrant Dhanraj’s hospital, one of his white-collar charities, kept clean of illegal operations. It’s known across the city for having the most qualified doctors. Although Vikrant uses the hospital to launder money and cover his mafia fronts, he never allows any criminal activity to occur within its premises. He refuses to engage inorgan trafficking, exploitation, or any violation of ethics within its walls. Here, he allows his conscience to rest.

“Sir,” the doctor begins, voice trembling, “when Madam was brought in, her condition was critical. Her heartbeat had nearly stopped. We had to work intensely just to stabilize her vitals before attempting the operation. If we hadn’t, the surgery would have failed.”

Vikrant's grip tightens, his breathing harsh. The doctor continues cautiously.

“Once she was stabilized, we began the procedure and successfully completed the operation. Another specialist will soon update you in more detail. But please, for your mother’s sake, stop causing a disturbance. The other doctors are still inside. They need to concentrate. Your mother is not out of danger yet, but if we’re disrupted again, her condition could worsen.”

Vikrant breathes heavily, then finally releases the doctor’s collar. He turns away and drags both hands down his face, trying to calm the storm within. The doctor watches, still tense. Vikrant turns back, eyes calmer but voice firm.

“You don’t have to try explaining again. I understand. I just want my mother safe. Completely safe…. That’s all I want… And I promise... you won’t hear another sound from me.”

He gently places his hand on the doctor’s shoulder, his voice softer now.

“Just bring me the news I’m waiting for... that my mother is awake... and calling me inside.”

The doctor nods, visibly relieved. Saying no to a man like Vikrant would be an invitation to death itself. Without anotherword, Vikrant pushes the doctor gently back into the OT and closes the door behind him. For the first time in hours, a faint, almost broken smile touches Vikrant’s lips. A smile born not of happiness but hope.

CHAPTER 8

RECOVERY

Vikrant stands there, trying once more to peer through the small glass window in the hope of catching even the briefest glimpse of Sharda. But no matter how intently he looks, he cannot see her. From a considerable distance, he can observe the doctors working continuously, moving briskly, focused entirely on what appears to be a critical procedure. Yet, despite all the activity, he remains deeply unsatisfied. His anxiety refuses to settle. He continues to stand, unmoving, fixated on the operating theater as if his stare alone could ensure her safety. Ravindra, who has been silently observing his son for a long time, finally approaches him from behind. His voice is low and steady, but firm, as he speaks.

“Vikrant, I understand exactly what you’re going through, but you must not let fear consume you. I respect Sharda aunty immensely, but I cannot allow you to collapse like this. You are my pride, the future of our empire. You must stand tall. Sharda may know everything about our world, and even though she never wanted you to inherit the mafia business, you know exactly where we come from and what must be done. No offense to her, but the way I see you right now, this weakness? This softness? That won’t work in our world. We can’t afford it.”

At these words, Vikrant clenches his jaw, his eyes igniting with a fire that can no longer be contained. He turns sharply toward his father. His bloodshot eyes blaze with fury, even though hehad been standing there in silent hope just moments earlier. Ravindra flinches and instinctively steps back. Vikrant, pointing a trembling yet forceful finger, growls in a voice laced with both pain and wrath: