The wheels of the black luxury car screeched to a halt as it entered the gates of Malhotra Mansion.
For most of the city, the mansion was still a landmark—a towering estate with sprawling lawns and intricate architecture. But for Aarav Malhotra, it was no longer home. It was a graveyard of memories.
He stepped out, tall, sharp, his presence commanding immediate attention. Ten years abroad had sculpted him into a man who carried both power and pain in his stride. His tailored suit, his unreadable expression, the cold glint in his eyes—everything about him screamed distance.
Yet, as his gaze swept across the mansion, his fists clenched. The gardens that once bloomed with his mother’s favorite roses were now neglected. The marble fountain in the courtyard had run dry. The walls seemed tired, stripped of their pride.
And at the heart of it all—his father lay broken inside.
A rush of footsteps broke his thoughts.
“Bhaiya!”
Meera flung herself into his arms, tears brimming. She was no longer the little girl he had left behind. Dressed in a simple salwar suit, her innocence was touched with weariness. But her hug was the same—warm, desperate, full of love.
Aarav wrapped his arms around her, his voice low. “Meera…”
She pulled back, blinking fast. “You’re finally back. I—I thought maybe you wouldn’t…”
“I promised I’d return,” Aarav said firmly. His tone softened for her alone. “And I keep my promises.”
She smiled faintly, though her eyes betrayed the storm within. “Papa has been waiting. He doesn’t say much anymore… but I know he’s been counting the days.”
The words hit Aarav like a knife. Without another word, he walked inside.
—
The mansion’s interior was dimly lit, silence heavy in every corner. Once filled with laughter, business meetings, and celebrations, it now felt suffocated by grief.
Aarav pushed open the door to his father’s room.
There, on the grand bed, lay Rajveer Malhotra. Once the lion of the corporate world, a man who built empires with his bare hands, now reduced to a frail shadow. His hair was white, his body weak, his eyes dulled by years of betrayal and shame.
For a moment, Aarav couldn’t move. Memories of his father teaching him to ride a bicycle, of proudly holding his hand at business parties, of promises made under starry skies—all came flooding back.
“Papa…” Aarav’s voice cracked as he moved closer, kneeling by the bedside.
Rajveer opened his eyes slowly, his lips trembling into a faint smile. “Aarav…” His hand shook as it reached out. Aarav clasped it firmly, pressing it to his forehead.
“You’re here,” Rajveer whispered, a cough escaping his chest.
“I told you I’d come back,” Aarav said, fighting the lump in his throat. “I’ll set everything right. I’ll restore what they stole from us.”
Rajveer’s eyes darkened with sorrow. “No, beta… Revenge is a poison. Don’t drink it.”
But Aarav’s jaw tightened, his voice cold steel. “They destroyed you. They took our name, our business, our respect. You want me to forgive them?”
Rajveer shook his head weakly. “I want you to live… not burn.”
Aarav leaned closer, his eyes glinting. “Living means nothing without justice. And I swear, Papa—one day, the Oberois will kneel.”
Rajveer closed his eyes, too weak to argue.
—
That night, Aarav stood alone on the balcony, staring at the glittering city. The wind carried distant sounds of honking cars and laughter, mocking his silence.
He poured himself a drink, the amber liquid catching the moonlight. His reflection in the glass looked back at him—calm, composed, but inside, a storm raged.
He remembered the whispers from ten years ago. Rajveer Malhotra—the fraud. Rajveer Malhotra—the fallen king. He remembered the betrayal in the boardroom, the smirks on the Oberois’ faces, the day everything collapsed.
And he remembered his father’s eyes that day—eyes that lost all light.
Aarav raised the glass to the night sky. His voice was a vow, sharp and quiet.
“They thought they ended us. They thought we’d vanish. But I will rise, Papa. I’ll make the Oberois pay. Every lie, every betrayal—they’ll pay with blood, with pride, with everything they hold dear.”
He downed the drink, the burn in his throat nothing compared to the fire in his heart.
“And if destiny dares to stand in my way—” his lips curved into a bitter smile—
“—I’ll destroy destiny too.”
The night swallowed his vow, but his heart knew: the game had begun.