Shiddat

Chapter 5

The moon cast an ethereal glow over the sprawling Rajput estate, its silver light illuminating the imposing mansion that stood as a sentinel in the heart of the city. The night was still, the air heavy with the scent of jasmine, and the only sounds were the distant hum of traffic and the soft rustle of leaves in the breeze.

Inside the mansion, silence prevailed. The servants, their movements hushed, tiptoed through the corridors, their eyes darting nervously as they avoided the gaze of the family. The Rajput patriarch, Vidyut Rajput, sat in the living area, his silhouette stark against the soft glow of the light. His sharp eyes, narrowed in concentration, scanned the documents spread out before him, his mind racing with calculations and strategies.

Vidyut was a man of immense power and influence; his word law was within his domain. He had built his empire through a combination of intelligence, ruthlessness, and a relentless pursuit of success. His every decision was carefully weighed, and his every move was calculated with the precision of a chess master. He was a force to be reckoned with—a man who inspired both fear and respect.

Beside him sat his wife, Adira Rajput, a woman of formidable presence. Her beauty was striking, her features sharp and angular, and her eyes were cold and assessing. She moved with the grace of a queen, yet her demeanor was anything but gentle. She ruled the household with an iron fist; her judgments were swift and final. The staff feared her more than they did her husband, for her wrath was swift and merciless.

Then, the distinct sound of a car's engine—a deep, purring rumble—penetrated the silence. The family members exchanged brief, knowing glances, their postures subtly straightening. The car's approach was a signal, a harbinger of the presence that was about to enter the house.

Adira's eyes flicked towards the door, her demeanor growing even more austere. The servants, who had been attending to the table with quiet efficiency, moved with heightened urgency, ensuring that everything was in perfect order.

As the car stopped, the grand double doors swung open with a quiet creak, revealing a figure emerging with a tall, broad-shouldered frame silhouetted against the fading light. The twilight cast long shadows over the marble floor as he stepped inside, his movements deliberate, each step echoing with purpose. As he moved deeper into the mansion, the staff subtly stiffened, each person acutely aware of his exacting standards.

"Adiraj" Vidyut Rajput's voice cut through the silence, sharp and commanding. He didn't bother to look up from the documents spread before him, his disappointment evident in his tone. "You lost the Businessman of the Year award again—to Arjun Rathore."

The words landed like hammers, each syllable weighted with expectation unmet. Adiraj's jaw clenched, but he said nothing, his face an unreadable mask. The rivalry with Arjun Rathore was personal, and each defeat was a blow to their pride.

Vidyut finally lifted his gaze, his eyes narrowing as they bore into Adiraj. "This is not what I expect from you," he continued, his voice laced with a quiet fury. "You are a Rajput. We do not lose."

The disappointment in his father's voice cut deeper than any reprimand. It wasn't just a loss in business—it was a failure in the eyes of a man who had built an empire on success and dominance. Vidyut's expectations were a weight that Adiraj had carried all his life, and tonight, that weight felt heavier than ever.

Adira Rajput, who had been sitting beside her husband, remained silent until now. Her eyes, cold and piercing, flicked over to her son, assessing him with the same critical gaze she reserved for the rest of the world. "We expected more from you, Adiraj," she said, her voice icy. "This is not the standard we hold in this family."

Her words were sharp, each one a dagger aimed directly at Adiraj's heart. Adira had no tolerance for failure, especially not from her own blood. Feeling their disappointment weighing heavily on him, Adiraj walked determinedly toward the corridor leading to his private quarters. The mansion's grandeur faded into a somber space as he approached his room.

His room was a reflection of his personality—opulent yet austere. The walls were lined with dark mahogany paneling, adorned with a few select pieces of art that spoke to his refined taste. A large, imposing four-poster bed dominated the center of the room, its silk linens neatly tucked, though now barely noticeable amidst the chaos about to unfold. The floor was covered in a luxurious carpet of deep blue, its softness a stark contrast to the fury brewing within him.

Adiraj reached the room and threw the door open with a forceful shove. The room's serene ambiance was about to be shattered. His movements were swift and reckless, fueled by a searing anger that had been simmering beneath the surface.

With a growl of frustration, Adiraj grabbed the first object he could lay his hands on—a crystal vase that had once been a symbol of his success—and hurled it against the wall. The vase shattered into a thousand glittering pieces, its fragments scattering across the polished floor. He ripped the curtains from their fixtures, the fabric falling in tattered shreds, their once-regal appearance now a casualty of his rage. The desk, with its meticulously organized papers and expensive stationery, was overturned in a violent sweep. Papers flew through the air, fluttering down like confetti.

Adiraj's breathing was ragged as he stood amidst the wreckage of his once-pristine sanctuary. His fists clenched at his sides, his knuckles white with the force of his grip. The room that had been a place of refuge and order was now a testament to his anger, a chaotic reflection of his internal strife.

As he surveyed the destruction around him, Adiraj's mind raced with thoughts of retribution. The loss to Arjun Rathore was a blow to his pride, and he vowed that this defeat would be his last. His eyes, now cold and steely, locked onto the broken pieces of the vase.

The room lay in disarray, silent witness to the fierce storm that had passed through. Adiraj, still seething, knew that the night's destruction was just the beginning. He would channel this rage into a relentless drive to reclaim his position and, ultimately, to ensure that the next time he faced Arjun Rathore, it would be on his own terms.

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