𝔸 ʳᵒᵐᵃⁿᶜᵉ, ʷʰᵉʳᵉ ᵈᵉˢⁱʳᵉ ʷᵉᵃʳˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜˡᵒᵃᵏ ᵒᶠ ᵐʸˢᵗᵉʳʸ, ᵃⁿᵈ ᵖᵃˢˢⁱᵒⁿ ᵗʰʳⁱᵛᵉˢ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵃʳᵗ ᵒᶠ ˢᵉᶜʳᵉᵗˢ.
𝕍𝕚𝕓𝕙𝕒𝕧 ℝ𝕒𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕣𝕖
the formidable entrepreneur, is 30 years old. This age places him at a juncture where his past and future converge, shaping h...
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I watched as the flames devoured the body of one of my most loyal friends, the smoke rising into the cold, indifferent sky.
My fists clenched tightly at my sides, nails digging into my palms as I fought the wave of disbelief threatening to drown me.
The autopsy confirmed the worst: he had taken his own life.
But why?
He was the strongest-willed person I'd ever known, a man who challenges head-on, who refused to back down no matter the odds.
Suicide was something I could never associate with him. And yet, here I was, standing before his funeral pyre, grappling with a truth that felt impossible.
When I found out that Anirban knew he was being stalked, and there was no more information coming from him, I didn't think that just a few days later, I would find him dead.
There was no indication of foul play, according to the law. No evidence of pressure. They claimed the gunshot was self-inflicted.
It was validated by every forensic detail.However, I couldn't accept the idea that he would willingly pull the trigger.
I knew who was behind this.
My jaw tightened, and my teeth ground together as a single name flashed in my mind.
Anirban.
There was no doubt in my mind that he was involved.
But the law emanded proof, and I had none. The case was open-and-shut: suicide. No suspects. No leads.
Then his younger sister found something. It was hidden among the pages of an old notebook-a rough, hand-dran blueprint of what appeared to be the layout of a building.
The details were complex, suggesting it was more than just idle lines.
At the top of the page, in his handwriting, was a single word: "Hidden room"
That hit me like a thunderclap. It wasn't just a coincidence. It couldn't be.
But why had he written it? Why not come to me or someone else with whatever he had discovered?
And what was this structure? A location? A trap? A clue?
I had to uncover what this blueprint meant and why he had left it behind.
Because deep down, I knew..... he hadn't died by choice.
Beside me, sitting on the sofa, was the girl who had lost her beloved brother.
