MARAZ-E-ISHQ The disease of love

18. MMS On The News Channels!

So I have started keeping targets!
"Iss zalim duniya ne humein majboor kardiya! (Fake sobs)"

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AUTHOR'S POV

Veeransh's Office....

"Don't make me repeat my words!"

His voice was steady, yet the gravity of his words was enough to shatter her composure.

Sensing the intensity in his voice, the girl abruptly took the file, struggling to suppress her sobs. She quickly wiped her tears and ran out of the room.
Afterall what could you expect her to behaive like, after being kicked out from the biggest company of India.

It was the thirty fifth termination letter of the day.

Seated on a large sofa, Veeransh scrutinized the unexpected plunge in share prices of one of his companies. Fingers running over the laptop keyboard and frowned gaze locked onto the screen, describes the maniac he was holding within.
The atmosphere in the discussion room was frigid, thick charged with the tension of his fury. His expression was a mask of calm, but the intensity of his presence was palpable, instilling fear in those around him. An eerie of silence enveloped the room, where a line of senior management stood with their heads bowed, sweat glistened on their foreheads. As one of them discreetly wiped his brow with a trembling handkerchief.

As soon as his gaze shifted to the team, they instinctively averted their eyes, unable to meet his stare. Breaking the oppressive silence, his gruff voice cut through the air.

"Any more excuses? Anyone?"

It was his speciality, even his most normal countenance was enough, to shut the voices rose to confront him. A signal of unyielding force, he carries. Hence, there was no second thought, that his terrific expressions could kill someone, without any action.

The group was breathing hard, though his the tone seemed casual, but underestimating the underlying threat would be their last mistake.

In a fluid motion, he ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head up, leaned back against the sofa. Crossing his one leg over the other, his eyes closed to continue maintaining an unsettling calm.

"So Mr. Chhabra, how do you plan to justify your blunder that has cost us nothing much, mere 8.5 billion dollars?"

At the mention of the staggering figure, Mr. Chhabra, a man in his mid-forties, quaked on his knees. The ground seemed to shift beneath everyone present, but the most chilling aspect was
HIS SILENCE that flowed. How could be someone so calm after loosing such amount and he was still counting it as 'mere?".

As they all braced for the impending fallout. The enormity of losing such a hefty sum in just a few hours, and the share prices that continued to plummet, weighed heavily on their minds.

"S..sir, w..we sincerely regret the loss, but o..our entire team has been working tirelessly for the past three hours to identify who leaked that footage from our IP address..." Mr. Chhabra stammered, struggling to maintain his composure as anxiety threatened to undermine him. He wanted to elaborate, but it felt as though he had challenged his silence.