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“But I won’t let you hide behind your power and money any longer,” I said, my tone low and menacing. “Watch me, Qureshi. I will destroy you. Brick by brick, I will tear down your empire until there’s nothing left. Nothing.”

He opened his mouth to retort, but I was one step ahead of him. Pulling out my phone, I tapped a number, cutting him off. The video call connected, and the screen lit up with the sight of my men in Malaysia. Between them stood the sniper—handcuffed, battered, and utterly defeated.

“Say hello to your hired gun, Qureshi,” I mocked, turning the phone so he could see clearly.

The colour drained from Qureshi’s face as his arrogant smirk vanished. His confidence crumbled as the sniper struggled to speak, his breaths ragged and panicked. “They found me,” he croaked, his wide, frantic eyes locked onto Qureshi through the screen. “I’m sorry... I had no choice. They’re bringing me to India today.”

“No... No... NO!” Qureshi screamed, his voice rising in panic as he whipped his head toward me.

“He’s agreed to testify,” I continue, my voice deathly cold. “Every detail—how you hired him, every payment you made to him, every conversation you had with him... It’s all on record.”

I ended the call abruptly, savouring the sheer panic that spread across Qureshi’s face like wildfire. He stumbled back, his composure unravelling with each second.

“It’s over, Qureshi. Unlike Pratap Walia, who kept your corruption files under wraps all this time, I have no such mercy. In less than an hour, every news channel in India will know exactly who you are, what you’ve done, and why. Every piece of evidence that we’ve gathered on your corruption and your attempt to have Pratap Walia killed will be out in the open—exposing you for the fraud you are.”

Qureshi’s bravado cracked, replaced by a flicker of desperation. His lips trembled as he tried to find words.

“Wait,” he stammered, raising a hand as if to stop me. “Vishnu, listen to me. We can work something out. Your loyalty to the Walias is... admirable. But what if I double—no, triple—whatever they’re paying you? Just give me those evidences, and I’ll make sure you get everything you’ve ever wanted. Money, power, anything. Think about what you could do with that kind of money.”

The audacity of that suggestion made my blood boil. If only he knew he was trying to bribe a son to betray his own father. I kept my voice steady, even though I was filled with rage.

“You think you can buy me? Turn me against the Walias? There’s nothing in this world you can offer that would make me betray the Walia family.”

Qureshi’s composure shattered entirely. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead, and his breathing became erratic as the weight of his situation finally sank in. His steps faltered, and he instinctively reached for the side drawer against the wall to steady himself.

“You don’t understand,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “Politics is my life. Without it... I...”

“Without it, you’re nothing,” I interrupted sharply, my tone merciless. “And that’s exactly what you’re about to become. Nothing.”

He looked up at me, his eyes wide with fear, but I wasn’t done. I stepped closer, looming over him, my voice rising with each word.

“You’ve spent your entire life chasing power, Qureshi. Stealing, bribing, lying, destroying anyone who stood in your way. But now? Now, you’re going to see what happens when that power is stripped away from you. Your reputation? Gone. Your ambitions? Finished. Your name will be nothing more than a disgrace, a stain on the very party you tried to control.”

I leaned in, my voice a dangerous whisper. “But that’s just the beginning. The humiliation won’t stop there. Once the world sees your face plastered across every news channel in India, once the evidence is laid bare, your family won’t be spared either. Your wife, your children—wherever they go, they’ll be branded as the family of a corrupt, power-hungry criminal. Your name won’t just be a disgrace. It’ll be a curse they’ll be forced to carry for the rest of their lives.”

Qureshi shook his head weakly, as if trying to block out my words, but I wasn’t finished.

“You’ll lose everything. The power, the respect, the cushy lifestyle. The people who once stood by your side will abandon you without a second thought, because no one wants to be associated with a sinking ship. And when that happens, where will you be? On the streets, begging for scraps from the very people you once looked down on.”

His face twisted in horror, and he tried to speak, but I cut him off again, my voice rising to a thunderous roar.

“You will be a walking cautionary tale, Qureshi! Your name will be wiped out from politics forever, not by your enemies, but by your own actions. This downfall? You brought it upon yourself. And now, you’ll live to suffer it.”

He collapsed against the wall, his legs nearly giving out beneath him. His once-arrogant demeanour was gone, replaced by a broken, helpless man clinging to the last threads of his pride.

I straightened, staring at him with a cold, unyielding glare.

“It’s over, Qureshi. The mighty king you once claimed to be is no more. And when you’re rotting in a prison cell, remember this moment. Remember the day you tried to harm a Walia—and lost everything.”

His face turned pale, his breathing erratic. “No one can take this from me. No one.”

I laughed humourlessly. “You’ve already lost, Qureshi. You messed with the wrong family, and now you’re paying the price.”

Before I could fully register his next move, his hand shot to the desk drawer. My muscles tensed as he pulled out a gun, the barrel aimed squarely at my chest. For a split second, the room seemed to shrink, the tension so thick it was suffocating. His hand trembled, and that was all I needed—a sign that he wasn’t fully in control.

“Don’t be a fool, Qureshi,” I said, my lips curved into a smirk, my every nerve on high alert. “Even if you kill me, it won’t change anything. Those files—the proof of your corruption, the evidence of your attempt to murder Pratap Walia—are already in the hands of the media. As we speak, every journalist across the state is heading to your doorstep, and the police? They’re not far behind.”

I took a slow step back, maintaining eye contact. His hands were shaking violently now, the gun quivering in his grip.