ll Ghuroor Ke Badal غرور کے بادل ll

28.**Chapter Twenty-Eight**

The heavy wooden doors of the study creaked shut behind Mir Lashari as he stepped inside. The room was dim, the faint scent of old books and sandalwood lingering in the air. His father, Siraj Lashari, sat in his grand leather chair, his back straight, his cane resting beside him like a silent weapon.

Siraj didn't look up immediately, his gaze fixed on the carved patterns of the antique desk, fingers tapping a steady, ominous rhythm against the wood.

"you called for me?" Mir's voice was respectful, but it held the sharpness of a man always braced for a blow.

Siraj slowly raised his eyes, his gaze as cold and cutting as the mountains they hailed from.

"Someone's been digging back at the village," Siraj said, voice like gravel. "Someone who's too curious about your... past."

Mir's jaw tightened. His heartbeat stuttered just once before finding its rhythm again.

"Digging about what?" he asked carefully, though he already felt the shadow creeping in.

Siraj's stare hardened. "About your son. "

The air thickened instantly, the weight of those words settling in the room like a storm cloud.

"How much do they know?" Mir asked, his throat suddenly dry.

"Enough to be dangerous." Siraj leaned forward, planting his cane on the floor with a sharp thud. "A man came to the village. Asking the wrong people the right questions. If you want to protect the son of yours—do it now. Before it's too late."

The words hit Mir like iron against bone.

Siraj's voice dropped, slow and deliberate. "Do you know what happens when a man like you—a man sitting on the edge of power—lets his enemies find the crack in his walls? They don't just break it, Mir. They tear it apart. They drag it into the mud. And they don't stop until you're drowning in it."

Mir swallowed the rising fire in his throat. "Who sent the man?"

Siraj's lip curled in disgust. " We don't know yet"

Mir's fists clenched at his sides.

" We have many enemies " Sartaj Lashari said through gritted teeth.

Siraj's eyes glimmered with something between warning and disdain. " And it's obvious they knows your weakness has a name. And that name is Rohan."

Silence stretched between them, heavy and suffocating.

Siraj's next words came like a hammer.
"You made the mistake of thinking the boy's existence could remain in the shadows forever. But shadows always betray you in the daylight."

Mir's breathing was harsh now, his chest rising and falling as his mind spun.

"You think I don't know that?" Mir growled. "You think I haven't been living with that sword hanging over my head every day since he was born?"

Siraj rose slowly, leaning on his cane, his face carved in stone. "I think you've been living in the comfort of secrets. But secrets rot. They fester. And when they finally explode, they take everyone with them."

He stepped closer to his son, his voice lowering into something more dangerous.

"You have two choices, Mir. Hide him. Smother this scandal before it breathes. Or..."
He paused, letting the weight of the second option settle between them like a final nail in a coffin.
"Or own it. Announce him. Make the world swallow it on your terms."

Mir's lips parted, a silent war raging in his head.

Siraj's eyes hardened. "But know this—if you fail to act, rou opponent will And when they do, it won't just be Rohan who falls. It will be you. And me. And this entire family."