The Call

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The soft light of dawn filtered through the expansive windows of Nitya's penthouse, casting a serene glow over the room. The sky outside was painted in delicate hues of orange and pink as the city below slowly woke up.

Nitya sat cross-legged on a plush mat, her posture perfect and her mind focused. The tranquility of the morning was punctuated only by the rhythmic chanting of the Mahamrityunjaya Mantra, a powerful Vedic hymn known for its protective and healing qualities.

She held a small mala in her hand, the beads slipping through her fingers with each repetition. Her eyes were closed in deep concentration, and her lips moved in harmony with the mantra:

“Om Trayambakam Yajamahe Sugandhim Pushtivardhanam Urvarukamiva Bandhanan Mrityor Mukshiya Maamritat.”

The mantra resonated through the room, carrying with it an aura of divine energy. The ancient words spoke of liberation and protection, a spiritual shield against the trials of the world.

Nitya's breath was steady and calm, her expression one of serene determination. The ritual was more than just a daily practice; it was a grounding force that centered her amidst the chaos of her responsibilities. As the last echoes of the mantra faded, she opened her

eyes, a soft smile playing on her lips. The calm and strength she drew from the practice were evident in her poised demeanor. She took a moment to enjoy the peace that enveloped her, a silent promise to herself to carry this serenity into her day ahead.

After an hour, she transitioned into her workout. The sleek, modern gym attached to her penthouse was her sanctuary of strength. Nitya greeted her trainer, Elena, with a nod, and without a word, they began. Elena pushed her through a grueling regimen of strength training and high-intensity cardio. The session was punishing, but Nitya thrived on the challenge. Each bead of sweat was a testament to her discipline, her power.

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As Nitya finished her final set, her phone buzzed on the bench. Matthew’s name flashed on the screen.

“Nitya, we have a situation,” Matthew’s voice was steady, but she could hear the tension beneath the surface.

“Go on,” Nitya replied, toweling off the sweat and moving towards her desk.

“There’s a report being circulated—an attempt to tarnish Sathee’s reputation. It’s filled with fabricated information, aimed at creating a scandal,” Matthew explained.

Nitya’s eyes narrowed, her mind already calculating the next steps. “Who’s behind it?” she asked, her voice cold and controlled.

“Some anonymous sources, likely paid off by competitors. They’re trying to push it into the mainstream, but we’ve contained it so far. No major channels have picked it up, but it’s spreading fast online.”

Nitya smirked, a dangerous glint in her eyes. “Let them try,” she said, her voice dripping with confidence. “Have our legal team ready. Anyone who runs with this will regret it.”

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The Dark Aura

Nitya strode into her office, a space that reflected her power—sleek, modern, with a commanding view of the city below. She sat behind her massive desk, the dark wood and minimalist design exuding authority. The room was bathed in shadow, the only light coming from the large windows behind her, casting her in silhouette—a powerful figure surrounded by a dark aura.

She picked up the phone and made a few calls. Within minutes, the gears of her influence were turning. Every contact, every favor owed, every ounce of leverage she had built over the years was now in play. By the time she finished, the smear campaign was dead in the water. The story, which had threatened to spread like wildfire, was extinguished before it could even ignite.

Nitya leaned back in her chair, satisfied. She was untouchable, and anyone who dared to cross her would learn that the hard way.

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Aftermath

Matthew entered her office, his face a mixture of relief and admiration. “The story’s gone. Not a single channel picked it up.”

“Good,” Nitya replied, her voice calm, almost bored. “This was a warning. They’ll think twice before trying something like this again.”

Matthew nodded, knowing better than to question her methods. Nitya was a force of nature, and in her world, power wasn’t just held—it was wielded, decisively and without mercy.

As Matthew left, Nitya sat in the darkness of her office.

In the dimly lit news office, a group of reporters clustered around a desk, their expressions a mix of frustration and disbelief. The story they had been working on—a scandalous exposé about Sathee—had inexplicably vanished from their schedule, without a trace.

“Did you see this?” one reporter asked, showing a blank screen where the article was supposed to be.

“Yeah,” another replied, “I checked all our channels and even our sources. It’s like it never existed.”

The head reporter, a seasoned journalist with a sharp mind, leaned in, her gaze intense. “There’s something off about this. We’ve never had a story pulled so abruptly. And you know what’s stranger? I heard whispers that Nitya has connections with Alfie Allen.”

Alfie Allen?” another reporter questioned, raising an eyebrow. “Isn’t he the guy who practically controls the city's underground network? The one who’s rumored to have connections so deep, he can make or break anyone?”

“Yes, that’s the one,” the head reporter said, her tone grave. “Nobody really knows how he operates or who he works with. His influence is so pervasive that even the most powerful people in the city tread.

The group exchanged glances, the air thick with the weight of unspoken questions. “If Nitya is really involved with someone like Alfie Allen,” one reporter mused, “it makes sense why this story would be pulled. Maybe it’s a matter of power and influence that we’re not fully aware of.”

Their discussion continued, a mix of frustration and determination fueling their desire to uncover the truth behind the mysterious connection between Nitya and Alfie.

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