Vivian approached me, his steps deliberate and heavy, and said in a cold, dark tone, "Are you planning to put on this drama in front of the whole world too?"
Confused and a bit startled, I asked, "What drama?"
Vivian pointed at my mangalsutra, his e...
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It was around midnight, and a long convoy of cars raced down the rough roads of Bangalore. In the middle car sat Vivian Singhania, his face radiating a rare sense of calm. A lit cigarette dangled between his lips, the car windows rolled down, allowing the wind to rush through as the vehicle sped over the bumpy streets. Blood streaks lined the road, accompanied by agonizing screams that echoed through the eerie silence of the night. But whose screams were they?
They belonged to Aarush, whose foot was tied to the trunk of the car, his arms bound tightly behind his back. His bloodied face dragged mercilessly across the jagged ground as the car sped on. His shrieks were so intense they could rupture anyone's eardrums, but, unfortunately, there was no one to hear them. The desolate roads of Bangalore bore witness to his pain as the car continued its relentless course, the screams persisting for nearly ten minutes.
As instructed by Vivian, Raj, who was driving, began to slow the car, and the rest of the convoy followed suit. Gradually, the cars came to a halt in front of a private jet, where several guards were stationed, waiting for Vivian's arrival.
Moments later, the car door swung open, and Vivian stepped out, taking a long drag from his cigarette as he approached Aarush.
"Untie him and show me his face," he ordered Raj and Rahul before leaning casually against the car's bonnet, crossing his legs.
Raj worked quickly to release Aarush's arms, while Rahul untied his legs. Together, they turned his battered body to face Vivian. Aarush's condition was beyond horrific; even Raj and Rahul had to avert their eyes at the sight.
But Vivian? He observed the bloodied, mangled face with cold detachment. Aarush was unrecognizable-his face was nothing but a mass of torn flesh and exposed bone, his chest in a similar state. His life was hanging by a thread, and he had long lost consciousness.
"Check if he's still breathing," Vivian said calmly, his gaze still fixed on Aarush as he took another drag of his cigarette.
Raj crouched down, checking for any sign of life. "He's still breathing, Boss, but I don't think he'll last more than an hour."
"Hmm. Dump him somewhere," Vivian commanded, his tone indifferent. With that, he turned on his heel and made his way into the jet, followed closely by Raj and Rahul. Only the two of them would be accompanying him to the U.S., as Kaden was tied up with a shipment and Vedant was out in Paris.
Soon, Vivian found himself settled in a seat inside the jet, surrounded by several underworld associates with whom he was conducting an illegal deal.
"You may want to check the goods, Mr. Singhania," one of the men suggested.
"Show me," Vivian said, bringing the glass of whiskey to his lips.
Just then, his phone rang. Glancing at the screen, he saw Aarini's name flash. He gestured to Raj with a subtle nod, signaling him to take over, before picking up the call and retreating to the private cabin at the back of the jet.
