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They thought they could tarnish the Qureshi name and forget about it, but they were wrong. I will erase every last one of them. Pratap, Vishnu, Veer—they will all fall. Their legacy will crumble, their existence wiped out from history.

“How’s the rest of the preparation?” I ask Shasha.

“All set,” he replies, not looking up from his work. “We’ll be ready to move when you give the word.”

“Good.” I glance at the drone once more. “Make sure everything is tested. There’s no room for error.”

“Yes, Zayed,” Shasha nods.

The room falls into a tense silence as my men continue their work. I lean against the window frame, staring at the horizon as the last sliver of sunlight disappears beyond the horizon. The darkness outside mirrors the one inside me.

They think they’re safe. They think they’ve won. But they have no idea about the storm that’s coming for them.

My eyes were on them. Always.And soon, they would know what it feels like to lose everything.

CHAPTER 36

VISHNU

Walia Mansion – Present

The suspense is finally out. We now have a face to the ‘masked man’ who has been threatening Simran—Zane, or rather,Zayed Qureshi.

Raw anger courses through my veins as Qureshi’s last words echo in my head, as vivid and haunting now as they were six years ago:

“My blood will take revenge…”

“My eyes will always be on you…”

How the hell did I miss it?

His blood.His eyes.Qureshi had practically spelled it out for me. He wasn’t talking about himself. He was talking about his son—Zayed Qureshi. A ticking time bomb that I should have identified and defused six years ago.

My fists clench, my nails digging into my palms as I curse myself. How could I have been so blind? So careless? I should’ve pieced it together, should’ve hunted down his son before he ever had the chance to become a threat to my family.

I slam my fist against the nearby wall, the anger getting the best of me. Simran flinches at the sound and steps closer, but I can’t bring myself to look at her.

“This is all my fault,” I mutter, my voice tight with self-loathing. “I should’ve seen it. I should’ve suspected it back then and dealt with his son at the time. If I had just…” I trail off, shaking my head in frustration.

“Vishnu,” Simran says gently.

“I should’ve ended this six years ago, Simran,” I snap, cutting her off. My eyes meet hers, burning with a fire that refuses to die down. “How could I miss something so obvious? Qureshi had clearly warned me, and I ignored it. I should’ve hunted his son down, ensured he wasn’t a threat before he had the chance to do this to us.”

“How could you have known, Vishnu?” she says softly. “It’s easy to overlook something like that. You were dealing with so much at the time—Qureshi’s death, keeping your family safe, protecting them. You did everything you could. You’re not to blame. It’s not your fault.”

“That’s not an excuse. I knew Qureshi had been married once to an American woman, and that they had a son who didn’t live with him in India. But I never suspected he would take revenge like this. After Qureshi’s death, I stayed vigilant. I was on high alert for years, watching for any threats to the Walias. I never let my guard down, not even for a second. But when nothing happened—when no attacks came—I let myself believe it was over. I closed that chapter, thinking we were finally safe.”

I exhale sharply, running a hand through my hair. “I should’ve known better. Hatred like that doesn’t just die. It waits. It bides its time, festering in the dark until it’s the perfect moment to strike. And I let it grow.”

“Vishnu, you’re not a mind reader.” Ayaan, who had been on a phone call after I shared the flashback related to Qureshi, joins us again. “You couldn’t have predicted this. And despite it all, you’ve always done everything in your power to protect this family.”

“But it clearly wasn’t enough,” I snap, frustrated. “All this time, Qureshi’s son was right under our noses—so close to me, so close tomy family—and we had no idea. That’s not protection, Ayaan. That’s epic failure.”

“He’s dangerous, Vishnu,” Ayaan says, understanding the depth of this situation. “Zayed Qureshi has been waiting for years to avenge his father. As a son… he turned a blind eye to his father’s crimes and only focused on one thing. That somehow, the Walias were responsible for pushing his father to the edge, that they were the reason his father shot himself.”

His phone rings again, cutting through the tension. “I need to take this,” Ayaan says, stepping to the side, leaving Simran and me alone.

“I was such a fool.” Simran’s shoulders sag as she takes a shaky breath. “I can’t believe I couldn’t see through him. I confided in him—told him about my business, my plans, my dreams—and all this time, he was planning to destroy us?”