Aziyat

Chapter 22

"Hello, duniya walo! 🙋🏻‍♀️How's everyone doing? I'm honestly surprised—and thrilled—by how quickly you all met the vote target! I'm proud of you, even though we didn't quite hit the comment target. But no worries, there's a long and spicy chapter ahead, so I'm excited to hear what you think.👉🏻👈🏻

Make sure to read every single segment of this chapter very carefully, or you might miss important details that are crucial for understanding the story moving forward. This is the longest chapter I've written so far, and it needs a lot of discussion and reader engagement for me to get your valuable feedback.🥹

So, here's the deal: if we don't hit the comment target this time, I might not to be benovolent enough to just upload a chapter😤. Writing such a big chapter takes a lot of time and effort, so I hope you'll appreciate and understand that.

Vote target: 230, comment target: 40 (Please, no spam—I'm looking for genuine comments.)"

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Present time, Jaipur~

Author's POV:
The dimly lit room was thick with tension. Shadows danced across the walls as the sunlight outside struggled to penetrate the darkened windows, casting an ominous glow over the men gathered around the long mahogany table. At the head of the table sat Mr. Randhawa, a man in his early thirties, his sharp features and piercing eyes revealing the cunning mind of someone who had risen to power through ruthlessness. His assistant stood nearby, nervously glancing at the clock as they awaited the arrival of the detective.

"Has the detective arrived?" Randhawa asked, his voice low but commanding.

The assistant, shifting uneasily on his feet, replied, "He'll be here in five minutes, sir."

Randhawa nodded, his expression unreadable. "Get the meeting room ready."

A heavy silence settled over the room as the men exchanged anxious glances. Each of them knew what was at stake, and the air was thick with a mixture of fear and anticipation. They had all agreed to come together under the common goal of dealing with a significant threat, but none of them had anticipated the complexity that now lay before them.

A few minutes later, the door creaked open, and the detective was ushered in. He was a man of average build, with a receding hairline and a nervous twitch in his right eye. Despite his attempts to appear composed, it was clear that he was out of his depth. The atmosphere in the room was suffocating, filled with powerful men who could end his life with a single word.

Randhawa's eyes narrowed as he leaned forward, his gaze fixed on the detective. "Speak," he ordered, his voice cold and devoid of emotion.

The detective swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing visibly as he began to relay his findings. "She's in Dehradun, working in the nursery of late Major General Ajay Desai's parents. And, sir... Ranvijay Singh Rathore is her husband. From what I've observed, their relationship seems rocky. I wanted to gather more information, but Rathore's guards were everywhere."

A murmur of unease spread through the room. The mention of Rathore's name had the men exchanging wary looks, their bravado wavering. One of the older men, seated at the far end of the table, spoke up, his voice trembling slightly. "Is that verified? Are you certain she's really Rathore's wife?"

"Yes, sir," the detective confirmed, trying to maintain eye contact despite the palpable fear in the room.

Randhawa's fingers drummed rhythmically on the table as he considered this new information. The stakes had suddenly become much higher than they had anticipated. "Mr. Randhawa," another man chimed in, his voice laced with concern, "we agreed to help you because of the common interest we all share, but none of us knew that Ranvijay Singh Rathore was involved."