Reclaimed Legacy

(30) - Shattered Confidence

Armaan descended the grand staircase with the familiar echo of his footsteps filling the Poddar mansion, his face a mask of indifference. At the bottom of the stairs, Dadisa was fussing over Rohit, her eyes gleaming with pride. A small silver bowl in her hands held dahi shakkar and she was feeding it to Rohit, her voice filled with confidence as she blessed him for the day ahead.

"Rohit, you will win this case, no matter what. Go with my blessings," she said, her tone unshakable, as if victory were inevitable.

Rohit, standing tall in his tailored black suit, took the blessings eagerly. "Of course, Dadisa," he replied, flashing her a confident smile. "I'll make sure to win. There's no chance of losing today."

Armaan, halfway down the stairs, caught the entire exchange. His sharp eyes swept over the scene-the overt display of favoritism, the blind encouragement-and it stirred nothing in him but quiet disdain. He rolled his eyes, uninterested in the elaborate charade playing out in front of him. To him, it was nothing more than Dadisa's usual theatrics, feeding Rohit's inflated ego.

Without a word or glance towards them, Armaan slipped past the room, his mind already elsewhere. His thoughts weighed heavily on the slum residents who stood to lose everything if Rohit won. This wasn't just a petty family matter or some corporate win for prestige-it was about real people, their homes, their lives. Armaan didn't want his brother's inevitable victory, a victory built on false confidence and ambition. In the silence of his heart, he prayed for the opposition's success, hoping they could stop Rohit from crushing the poor under his naive pursuit of glory.

Let him lose for once, Armaan thought bitterly, because this time, if he wins, people will lose everything.

His car ride to the office was consumed by this quiet resentment, but as always, Armaan buried his emotions under layers of indifference. There was no use thinking about it now. The wheels were already in motion.

In the courtroom, the air was thick with tension. Rohit sat next to Sanjay Phupha-Sa, their faces mirrors of determination but for different reasons. Rohit's nerves betrayed him though-his fingers tapping restlessly on the table, his leg bouncing lightly under it. He looked up at Sanjay, searching for reassurance. The elder man, much more seasoned in these battles, offered a confident smile. He was the mastermind behind Rohit's strings, and though he wasn't the one officially fighting the case, he had groomed Rohit for this day. This victory would be his just as much as it would be Rohit's.

Sanjay's thoughts drifted to Karan Rao, their client, a man with the kind of wealth and influence that could open doors. Winning this case would mean more than just a legal victory-it would cement their firm's relationship with Rao, a prize that Sanjay had coveted since Armaan had walked away from the case. It had been an unexpected stroke of luck, Armaan's refusal. Sanjay had seized the opportunity, maneuvering Rohit into the spotlight, pulling strings from behind to ensure everything would go their way. He had prepared Rohit, trained him to argue this case with precision, and now all they needed was the judge's decision in their favor.

Looking at Rohit's face, though, he could see the uncertainty creeping in, the cracks in his carefully built confidence. Rohit wasn't ready, not truly, but Sanjay knew how to disguise weakness with enough bravado. He leaned over, his voice steady but quiet enough that only Rohit could hear.

"Remember what we've worked on. Fight well, and we will win," Sanjay said, his tone laced with quiet assurance. "There's no way we lose this. Mr. Rao will be only your client from now onwards if you win the case, and it'll be your victory that brings him to you."

Rohit nodded, swallowing his nerves, though his anxious fingers didn't stop their restless movement. Sanjay glanced across the room, his eyes landing on the slum residents and their lawyer - a woman. The sight only deepened his confidence. The woman was young, far too young to have the experience needed for a case of this magnitude. She couldn't have been more than twenty-five, if that.