The morning after her courtroom victory, Parineeti Gupta sat cross-legged on her living room floor, sipping strong South Indian filter coffee, the newspaper spread out before her. DEFENSE QUEEN DOES IT AGAIN, the headline read, her photograph beneath it — crisp white shirt, black blazer, eyes that meant business.
She didn’t smile. She never did at these things.
From the kitchen, Arun Gupta peeked out, holding a steel plate of poha. “Your mother’s already dissected the judgment over the phone. Be ready when she calls again.”
Parineeti took the plate, amused. “Let me breathe, Papa.”
“Not in this house. Not after you take down half of Mumbai’s corporate circus in one courtroom hour.”
---
Later That Morning — Justice Leela’s Chambers
Parineeti leaned against the cool stone wall outside the High Court chambers of Justice Leela Gupta — her mother. She watched through the glass pane as Leela spoke, her tone firm but measured, silk saree crisp, her gavel an extension of her hand.
Moments later, Leela emerged, straightening her glasses.
“You watched?” she asked without looking.
“I did.”
Leela nodded once. “Good win yesterday. Though I’m not sure about the way you got that audio clip.”
Parineeti’s jaw clenched. “It was legal. I made sure.”
“Legality isn’t the same as ethics.”
“And ethics isn’t always justice.”
That earned a glance. One long, unreadable look. Then Leela said, “Keep walking the line, Paru. Just don’t let it walk over you.” And she disappeared back into her chamber.
---
Meanwhile — The Singhania Estate, Malabar Hill
In a sun-drenched conference room, Vikram Singhania skimmed the Economic Times with one hand and held a silent espresso in the other. Aaryan strolled in, tie half-done, as usual.
“Big win for Korgaonkar,” Aaryan said, pulling up the same paper. “Parineeti Gupta, again. Sixth high-profile acquittal this year.”
Vyom already had her file open on his tablet. “She’s precise. Calculates her moves like a chess player. Graduated top of her class at NLU Delhi. Clerked under Justice Leela Gupta. Known for her courtroom detachment.”
Vikram glanced over, curious. “You’ve been tracking her?”
“I track everything that touches our competitors.”
Aaryan grinned. “She’s interesting, bhai. A bit of a storm in heels.”
Vikram didn’t smile, but a flicker of something passed through his eyes. “Send me her closing statement.”
---
Evening — Café Rouge, Bandra
Parineeti stirred her second espresso as Shaurya Singhania sauntered in, hoodie up, aviators on despite the setting sun.
“You’re late,” she said.
He sat across her with a smirk. “You’re welcome for the miracle clip, by the way.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Still not telling me how you got it?”
Shaurya leaned in. “Some gifts are best left unexplained.”
“Shaurya.”
He gave in — a little. “Let’s just say I believe in justice... and in you. You’re doing more than arguing cases, Paru. You’re making noise in places that matter.”
She narrowed her eyes. “What places?”
He chuckled. “The ones where men in suits pretend they don’t hear thunder. Until lightning hits.”
She stared at him for a beat, then looked away. “You need better metaphors.”
“You need to know your name’s being spoken in circles you haven’t even walked through yet.”
“Good,” she said, finishing her coffee. “Let them speak.”
---
The Next Day — A New Case Knocks
Back at her firm, a new file landed on her desk. A whistleblower case — pharma giant, internal sabotage, a former junior exec accused of leaking trial results.
Parineeti read through the first ten pages in silence.
Her junior associate, Mala, hovered. “Do we take it?”
Parineeti didn’t answer right away.
There was something off about the way the emails were worded. Too clean. Too constructed. And yet… the whistleblower’s handwritten notes felt raw, real, scared.
“Schedule a meeting with the client,” she said, finally.
“Should I call Papa?” Mala asked, only half-joking. “He’s going to ask if this case is cursed.”
“Let him,” Parineeti replied, her voice cool. “I only answer to one judge outside court. And she’s already suspicious of my methods.”
---
That Night — Singhania Mansion Library
Vikram stood at the window, listening to Vyom read her statement aloud. The cadence of Parineeti’s words, her arguments — sharp, economical, deadly in precision.
“She dismantled the prosecution in under four minutes,” Vyom said. “No emotional appeals. Just facts. Brutal and clean.”
Aaryan, lounging on the armrest of the couch, added, “You know who she reminds me of?”
“No,” Vikram said.
“You.”
Vikram said nothing.
He just watched the moon reflect on the glass and finally murmured, “Invite her to the Sterling Foundation Gala. Through her firm.”
Vyom raised an eyebrow. “Shall I tell her why?”
“No,” Vikram said, already walking out. “Let’s see if she asks.”
---
Closing Scene — Parineeti & Her Father
Later that night, Parineeti sat with Arun on their terrace. The city stretched below them — noisy, restless, alive.
“You think I’m pushing too hard?” she asked, surprising even herself.
Arun looked at her gently. “I think you’re made to push. Just don’t forget to breathe between battles.”
She leaned on his shoulder, quiet for a while.
Then her phone buzzed. An invite from the Sterling Foundation. A gala next weekend. No sender name. Just her firm's name printed below in a standard event format.
She stared at it.
Arun asked, “Something wrong?”
Parineeti smiled faintly. “Nothing. Just… thunder.”
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