South Mumbai | Morning
The office air was light, sun pouring in through the frosted glass walls, but Rishi Mehta was already spinning with energy. Dressed in a crisp blazer over a graphic tee and loafers far too casual for court, he bounded into Parineeti’s chamber like he owned the floor.
“Ma’am!” he grinned, placing a stack of case files on her desk. “I’ve organized your hearing files, color-coded the evidence tags, and even fixed that god-awful formatting on the Kalra affidavit.”
Parineeti, seated with her usual grace and focus, lifted a brow. “You did all that before 10 AM?”
“Yes,” he said proudly. “With only three cups of coffee and one motivational TED Talk.”
She bit back a smile, setting aside the brief she was reading. “You’re too talented to waste on admin tasks, Rishi.”
His grin softened, just slightly. “If you say it, I’ll believe it.”
She didn’t respond. But the way her eyes lingered on him for a moment longer said she saw the depth behind the cheerful mask.
---
Singhania Estate | Afternoon
The Singhania villa was unusually full—extended relatives, laughter, chatter, and an overload of opinions floating around marble columns and Persian carpets.
Vikram stood at the edge of it all, expression unreadable, swirling whiskey in his glass. Meera Singhania, his mother, tried to mask her frustration as yet another aunt nudged him.
“Vikram beta, she’s a sweet girl. From a good family. IIT gold medalist and graceful too.”
“She sounds like a multi-purpose appliance,” he replied dryly, not even glancing up.
“Vikram!” Meera hissed under her breath.
An uncle chimed in from the corner sofa. “You’re thirty-one. It’s time.”
Vikram's response was a ghost of a smirk. “Time is for those running out of it.”
With that, he excused himself, disappearing down the hallway before anyone could latch on to his arm again.
---
Elsewhere | Rooftop Café | Early Evening
Rishi sat across from a fellow junior, stealing glances at his phone. He’d clicked a candid photo of Parineeti from earlier that morning—her looking out the window, brows slightly furrowed, sunlight kissing the curve of her cheek. He knew he shouldn’t have. But he hadn’t posted it anywhere. Just... kept it.
“You’re really into her, huh?” his colleague teased.
Rishi chuckled. “She’s brilliant. Sharp. Unshakeable. It’s like watching a force of nature argue in court.”
“She’s at least six years older than you.”
“Which means I’ll catch up in six years,” he said, winking.
The teasing faded when his phone buzzed—a strange message on an anonymous app.
“Lioness on thin ice. Watch the ground beneath her.”
He frowned.
Not funny.
---
Singhania Private Office | Night
Vyom leaned against the glass, arms folded. “The dock shipment’s been rerouted clean. But one of the border contacts from Jaisalmer... vanished.”
Vikram flipped through a report, not looking up. “Find out if he vanished, or was made to vanish.”
Vyom nodded, but didn’t move.
“You’re brooding,” Vikram said flatly.
“Shaurya.”
That name made Vikram pause.
Vyom continued, voice careful. “He’s still in London, but he’s made three anonymous data requests from a sub-layered encrypted path that matches the route used by... someone else.”
Vikram looked up slowly. “Someone else?”
“The same line Parineeti’s team used before the Korgaonkar case blew up.”
Silence.
Vikram stared out the window, jaw tightening. “He’s not stupid. But he’s young enough to feel immortal.”
“You want me to—”
“No.” Vikram’s voice was cold steel. “You don’t touch him. You watch.”
---
Parineeti’s Apartment | Midnight
Parineeti sat alone, going through a fresh batch of files. The envelope from earlier still rested in her drawer. Her phone buzzed.
A message.
Rishi Mehta:
Don’t know if I should be telling you, but I got this weird message about you. Think someone’s messing around.
She stared at the text, expression hardening. Then she typed back.
Parineeti:
Thanks for telling me. And thanks for watching out.
Seconds later, her phone buzzed again. A blocked number.
She picked up.
Silence.
Then a voice—low, distorted. “They watch because they’re afraid. But you won’t know who until it’s too late.”
Click.
Parineeti sat frozen, the fear creeping into her bones.
---
Old Textile Mill | 2:04 AM
It was a ruined corner of the city—abandoned and forgotten. Except by men who operated in the dark.
Vikram entered the space with Vyom, the air thick with decay and silence.
A man waited near a steel table—lean, scarred, and sharp-eyed.
“Shafiq,” Vikram said. “I heard you were in Morocco. Picking up trade routes.”
Shafiq grinned, gold tooth glinting. “And I heard you’ve been playing nice lately. The new don with the clean image.”
Vikram didn’t smile. “We’re not here for rumors.”
A file was passed. Maps. Coordinates. Names.
“Three routes through Gujarat,” Shafiq said. “One through the dunes. Invisible to satellites.”
Vyom raised a brow. “What’s the price?”
“A favor,” Shafiq said.
Vikram closed the file. “I don’t do favors. I erase debts.”
A beat.
Shafiq laughed softly. “Still a bastard under the suit, I see.”
---
Next Morning | Outside a Courtroom
Parineeti walked into the court gates. Rishi caught up beside her, slightly breathless. “Hey! I prepped your notes. And I’m attending, so if you need anything mid-hearing—”
“Thanks,” she said, a bit distracted. “You alright?”
He hesitated. “I just… you ever feel like there’s something behind you, even when there’s nothing there?”
She looked at him.
“Yes,” she said quietly. “I’ve been feeling that a lot lately.”
---
Singhania Estate | Same Time
At breakfast, Shaurya’s name came up in passing. Meera asked about his return.
Vikram stirred his tea slowly.
“He’s enjoying London too much,” he said flatly. “Maybe a little too much.”
Meera didn’t notice the edge in his tone. But Vyom, who stood in the corner, did.
And said nothing.
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