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“Correction!” Jhankar chirped. “Not a taxi, it’ll be your own car. A gift from your brilliant little sister. Just wait…”

“You’ll gift me?”

Vyom asked, raising an eyebrow, half-impressed, half-challenging. She nodded wildly with an exaggerated grin. Chitrali and Raghunath tried to suppress their laughter. Vyom looked at her again and, in that moment, saw the mischievousglint in her eyes. Without a word, he bolted from his seat, and she immediately took off running. She swiftly darted around the dining table, while Vyom relentlessly pursued her.

“I swear I’ll marry you off to a guy just to get rid of you!”

“Don’t worry! But before I go, I’ll make sure you get married first. I’m not the type who lets go of revenge so easily.”

Raghunath sat back, wrapping an arm gently around Chitrali’s shoulder, watching their two kids circling the room in a whirl of laughter and energy. The light in his eyes revealed the depth of his pride. No matter what struggles came their way, these two were his life, his happiness.

CHAPTER 2

HIS LIFE

Balanced on his palms on the ground, with his feet resting on a chair, his bare chest glistening with sweat, Vikrant looked like a carved statue of disciplined fury. Every cut and ripple of his muscles reflected his intense, almost punishing routine. Droplets of sweat traced the path of unspoken rage as he moved into one-arm pushups, his breath steady and movements precise. He welcomed silence like a dear friend, hated interruptions, and found peace only in solitude. But that moment of calm didn’t last long.

The heavy doors burst open. A tall man strode in with two bodyguards trailing him. The man’s eyes, as sharp as blades, scanned the room. He motioned with a tilt of his chin, and the guards silently exited, leaving the two men alone in the stillness.

“Hey, my son... VIKRANT,” the man said warmly.

Vikrant looked up without a flicker of emotion. He rose from the floor, sweat still trailing from his temples, and bent respectfully to touch his father’s feet. Ravindra’s pride was evident as he clutched his son’s shoulder, pulling him into a tight embrace.

“My son... It’s only been ten days, but it feels like ten years. You don’t even answer my calls anymore. I missed hearing your voice. How have you been?”

“Good... How are you, Dad?”

Vikrant replied, his voice low and flat.

“Just seeing you here makes everything better. You know how much I love having you near me.”

Vikrant turned his back, grabbed a towel, and began wiping the sweat off, uninterested in emotional banter. Ravindra, however, stood firm and proud, speaking with a gleam in his eye.

“They’ve accepted all our terms. We’ve secured the biggest arms deal yet.”

A slow, cold smirk tugged at Vikrant’s lips. He met his father’s eyes through the mirror. Of course Ravindra would close the deal; he always did. On paper, Ravindra was a celebrated political figure, but beneath, he was the mastermind behind an empire of smuggling, arms, and terror. The mafia king is in a politician’s skin. Ravindra leaned in closer.

“When was the last time you saw Sonakshi? You two are getting married in two days. Don’t you think she deserves some time with you? She is, after all, your bride.”

Vikrant gave no answer. His silence was louder than a thousand words. He was marrying Sonakshi for one reason only: power. Her father, Viren Chandel, was another powerful wolf dressed in Mafia. Their marriage would fuse two empires into one. He neither loved Sonakshi nor believed in love. Not anymore. Ravindra saw his son's reflection, but he didn’t expect a reply. Instead, he stepped beside him, placed his hand gently on the dumbbell Vikrant was lifting, and said softly,

“Sonakshi is a lovely girl. Perhaps she’ll bring light into your life. Your mother never loved me, but I’ve always loved her. Till my last breath, I will.”

But Vikrant didn’t want to hear about love. Not from his father. Not from anyone. Without saying a word, he dropped the dumbbell and walked out. Ravindra watched his son leave, hissilhouette shrinking into the hallway until he disappeared. He murmured under his breath:

“One day someone will come into your life who will break through this wall. And that day, my son, you’ll understand what love really is. I just hope Sonakshi is that person.”

Vikrant stood under a freezing shower, eyes closed, head bowed. The water cascaded over his body, trying to extinguish the rage that burned inside him, rage rooted in memories he couldn’t escape.

PAST EVENT

Ten-year-old Vikrant stood silently in the corner of the room, watching his parents. His mother was shouting, her voice slicing through the air like a blade.

"I hate you… That’s the truth. Other than that, I don’t know anything. You can’t stop me, not by binding me, not by pleading with me. You’ll never be able to stop me.”

“I don’t understand, Sonia,” Ravindra said, his voice heavy with disbelief. “What happened all of a sudden? Everything was fine, you were happy with me. Where is this hatred coming from? How can someone who used to express love so openly now harbor such animosity?”

“I told you—I hate you,” she snapped. “You’ve ruined my life. You’re just a bloody mafia…. No heart… Just go away… Being around you feels like breathing poison. I want to get away from here, I don’t know anything else. Just leave. I don’t want to see your face again.”