In the heart of Mumbai's Vibrant chaous, Rhishav Shekhawat, 30-year-old CEO, strode in his Skyscraper office,a fortess build on ambition.
''Another deal, another victory,'' he muttered to himself,masking the emptiness dawing at his insides.
Meanwhil...
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Author's POV:-
The night was heavy, silence pressing against the glass windows of Advik's apartment. He sat in the dark, only the faint orange glow of his cigarette cutting through the shadows. The paper on his desk carried a rough sketch—the symbol he hadn't been able to shake out of his mind: a rising sun.
He tapped his finger against it, jaw tight, before finally dialing the one man who could answer.
The call clicked.
"Advik," Rudransh's voice came through, deep, steady—but underneath, it carried a weight only men who had lost everything carried.
Advik leaned back in his chair, exhaling smoke toward the ceiling. "Tell me something, Rudra. Are you truly the last of your bloodline?"
The other end went quiet. Too quiet. Then, slowly, Rudransh replied, "Why ask a question you already know the answer to?"
Advik smirked faintly, though his eyes stayed fixed on the symbol. "Because I don't like assumptions. They're messy. Dangerous."
Rudransh gave a dry, humorless chuckle. "Dangerous, yes. But in this case, no assumption. I am the last. Everyone else..." He trailed off, his breath catching for just a second. "...everyone else burned."
Advik's grip on the cigarette tightened, the ember flaring. "You sound very sure for a man who escaped through a tunnel."
That hit a nerve. The silence stretched long this time, broken only by the faint rustle of fabric, as if Rudransh had gotten up, pacing.
"You don't understand," he said finally, voice low. "I saw it. My parents—my whole family—cut down like animals. I was dragged away while their screams..." His words faltered, breaking off into a harsh inhale. "Don't dig up graves, Advik. Some truths are better left rotting."
Advik let the words hang. He flicked the ash into the tray, his tone calm but sharp. "And yet, those rotting truths seem to be walking."
"What the hell are you talking about?" Rudransh snapped, the calm in his voice fracturing.
Advik leaned forward now, elbows on the desk, eyes narrowing. "I saw something. During a break-in at Singh Enterprises. Someone fast, skilled... reckless enough to dig into Karan Singh's system. And in the middle of a fight, when I had them close—" he paused, savoring the weight of his words, "—I saw it. The mark. The rising sun. On their skin."
The line went silent. So silent that for a moment, Advik thought the call had dropped. Then came the faint sound of glass shattering on the other end.
"You're lying." Rudransh's voice was hoarse, almost unrecognizable.
"I don't lie," Advik said simply. "You know that."
A long, jagged breath came through the speaker. "That mark... it belonged to my blood. And I buried my blood with my own hands."
