City D's nights were usually alive with chaos—honking horns, headlights slicing through fog, the endless hum of hurried footsteps—but tonight, outside the Upadhyay Group headquarters, there was a stillness that felt unnatural, almost ominous.
The skyscraper stood like a fortress, its glass panels catching the amber glow of streetlights and throwing back distorted reflections of the city below. Inside, the echoes of a heated boardroom confrontation still lingered in the polished marble floors. And at the center of it all, Veer Upadhyay, CEO of the Upadhyay Group, walked alone, his tie loosened, shoulders tense under the weight of corporate responsibility and unseen threats.
He tugged at his tie, exhaling in frustration as he descended the granite steps. His phone buzzed.
"All clear, sir. Car's on its way," the security officer's voice crackled through the earpiece.
Veer nodded and took a measured step forward.
Then—a voice. Familiar, yet laced with venom.
"Veer Upadhyay?"
Veer turned instinctively.
A figure lunged from the shadows, metal glinting under the streetlights. The blade slashed across his shoulder. Pain erupted—white-hot and immediate.
"Bastard!" Veer grunted, swinging a fist into the attacker's jaw. Blood smeared his cuff.
The assailant pressed forward, relentless.
Gunshots split the night air.
"Drop the weapon! NOW!" shouted a security guard.
Blinding headlights swept across the plaza. Screams echoed. But the attacker vanished—swallowed by darkness.
City Care Emergency Hospital – 2:37 A.M.
The hospital's sliding doors burst open, colliding with the sterile silence of the night.
"Where is Veer Upadhyay?!" Rishika's voice cut like a whip as her heels clicked against the polished floors.
The nurse pointed the way. ICU-3.
Veer lay inside—bandaged, motionless, monitors blinking around him. Rishika froze at the threshold, fingers trembling as she reached for him. His hand was warm, fragile, and clutched instinctively.
Veer's eyelids fluttered. A weak voice escaped him.
"He… knew where I'd be."
"This wasn't random, was it?" she demanded, jaw tight.
"No. He watched. He waited…" His gaze locked with hers. "Blood."
Rishika straightened, spine stiff.
"Activate full protocol. Every camera, every file, every name—tonight."
Upadhyay Group Crisis Command – 3:10 A.M.
Back at headquarters, the glass-walled operations room flickered to life. Screens displayed red pins across a map of City D.
"Pull every CCTV feed within five blocks. Traffic cameras, broken shop security, tea stall webcams—I don't care. Now," barked Shivam, the field intelligence lead.
Mahima, the cybersecurity head, slid into her chair, fingers dancing across keyboards as streams of code cascaded across multiple monitors.
"Shooter's exit route was too clean. Someone erased transport logs within thirty minutes of the attack."
"Can you recover them?" Shivam asked, eyes narrowing.
"Watch me," Mahima said.
Rishika appeared at the doorway, rain streaked on her black coat, eyes cold and sharp.
"Talk."
"Knife wound, but gunfire as well. Attacker wanted him bleeding, not dead," Shivam reported.
"Eyewitness at a tea stall—City K accent. Alias: Raka."
"City K…" Rishika murmured. "Veer's old ground—the rail corridor project."
Mahima swiveled.
"Payment originated overseas. Metadata shows code: 'D.SINGH-22.'"
Hospital – 3:45 A.M.
By now, the news had reached the inner circle. Riyansh Madhvan arrived quietly, his presence measured yet commanding, scanning the monitors as he stepped beside Rishika.
"Any leads?" he asked.
"They knew his route. Inside knowledge," Rishika replied.
"Betrayal came from someone once close," Riyansh said, voice low.
The first of the extended family arrived: Neela (Beers Bua), design lead at Upadhyay Group, sharp-eyed, arms crossed, silent judgment etched in her face.
Anikita Bua, CFO of Upadhyay Group, organized and calm, though her knuckles were white as she gripped her bag.
Suhani, Interior Architect, young, spirited, barely containing panic as she rushed forward.
"What happened?" Suhani asked, voice trembling.
"An attack," Rishika said tersely. "He's stable for now. But someone wants him dead."
The tension was thick. Outside, City D began its daily rhythm, oblivious to the storm inside ICU-3.
"Where are mother and sister in law ?" Neela asked.
"They're at Vaishno Devi," Rishika replied. "They'll be out of reach for at least 48 hours."
Field Sweep – 4:22 A.M.
Shivam led a tactical unit to a safehouse in Old City D. The air reeked of sweat and cigarettes; empty bottles littered the floor.
In the fireplace, partially burned, lay a passport photo—edges charred. Shivam pulled it out with tongs.
The letters were faintly visible: D. Singh.
"This just got personal," Shivam muttered.
Hospital ICU – 5:15 A.M.
The hum of machines filled the sterile room. Veer's chest rose and fell in uneven rhythm, monitors flashing steadily. The bullet had missed his heart by mere centimeters—a narrow margin that separated survival from tragedy.
Rishika stood close, fingers brushing his. Beside her were Riyansh, Neela, Anikita, and Suhani. Each held a silent vigil, the weight of fear and determination in the air.
Veer's voice cracked as he whispered,
"Who…?"
"Devraj Singh," Rishika replied, her voice steady but cold as steel.
Riyansh's jaw tightened, eyes narrowing.
"Who exactly is he? Tell me everything."
Neela, composed yet serious, stepped forward.
"I believe I know who he is. He's connected to Nityam Singh… a cousin. That line of the family has a history with your father, Rishika."
Rishika's brow furrowed.
"Nityam Singh…? Who is he? Why are they targeting us now?"
Neela glanced at Veer's still form, then back at Rishika.
"Ask your father. He knows the full story, and it's time you hear it clearly."
Upadhyay Residence – The Library
Rishika returned home, tension knotted in every step. The household was quiet; only the soft tick of the grandfather clock echoed through the hall. She found the butler, an old and loyal presence, and asked, "Where is my father?"
He nodded silently and led her through the familiar corridors to the library. Sunlight filtered through heavy curtains, casting streaks across rows of leather-bound books. Behind the grand teak desk, Harshvardhan Upadhyay sat in quiet reflection, the air thick with history and unspoken truths.
Rishika placed a faded photograph on the desk. Three young men, arms slung over each other in camaraderie, looked back at her. Her father stood in the center, youthful, full of vision and promise.
Her voice was soft but firm: "Papa… did you ever trust someone… who tried to destroy you?"
Harshvardhan didn't look up. Silence stretched between them, heavy as lead.
Finally, he spoke, his voice measured, almost weary: "I did. Once."
"Nityam Singh," Rishika said, eyes unwavering.
Flashback: Delhi, 1997
Two boys ran across the dusty grounds, laughter echoing, two families bound by vision and shared dreams. Among them, Nityam Singh was not just a friend—he was family, a brother in all but blood.
But ambition can twist loyalty into greed.
Nityam forged deeds, selling Upadhyay land to gangsters. A colony meant for displaced workers became a war zone. The betrayal was complete.
Harshvardhan confronted him in a shadowed office, the air thick with accusation.
"You betrayed every promise we ever made," he said, voice low, dangerous.
Nityam sneered.
"You'd ruin me for this?"
Harshvardhan's eyes were cold.
"You already ruined yourself."
The night ended with arrest, a rope of justice—or so it seemed. By dawn, the world said Nityam Singh was dead. Suicide. Silence. A shadow buried in history.
Upadhyay Group Headquarters – Operations Room – 6:00 A.M.
The morning light filtered through the floor-to-ceiling glass walls of the operations room, but it did little to soften the tension that clung to the air. Rows of monitors flickered like restless eyes, displaying live feeds from security cameras, financial logs, and encrypted communications. Rishika stood at the center, her black coat still damp from the night's rain, sleeves rolled up, eyes scanning each screen with razor-sharp focus.
"Shivam," she said without preamble, "I want a complete sweep of every operational channel in City D. Not just our HQ—warehouses, regional offices, transport routes, construction sites. Cross-check all movement against last night's attack window."
Shivam nodded, tapping his tablet rapidly. "Already pulling feeds. Any anomalies will be highlighted in red within the next ten minutes."
Mahima, seated at her main console, didn't lift her gaze from the cascade of code scrolling across three screens. "Rishika, the overseas transaction linked to D. Singh-22 has moved again. Shell accounts in Country S. It's not just a payment—it's a pipeline. Someone on the inside is feeding him operational intel."
Rishika's eyes narrowed. "Which department?"
Mahima's fingers danced faster. "Could be finance or logistics. Credentials show unauthorized access by someone whose accounts should have been deactivated years ago. Whoever this is, they've gone to great lengths to remain invisible."
Rishika exhaled sharply. "We start tracing every authorized credential for the past 48 hours. No exceptions. I want the mole identified by noon. Shivam, field team is on standby. If they move, we move."
City D – East Corridor Warehouse – 6:45 A.M.
Shivam led a tactical unit through the narrow streets of City D, the early traffic just beginning to stir. The warehouse, a nondescript brick building in a rundown district, had been flagged through Mahima's network triangulation as a potential staging point.
"Visual confirmation?" asked one of the field operatives, crouched behind a delivery van.
"Not yet," Shivam murmured. "Eyes sharp. Watch for any exit routes, rooftop access. He could have a sniper or a runner inside."
They approached the main entrance silently. Shivam signaled to two operatives, who slipped around the side. A faint movement—shadow passing a window—was enough.
"Contact," whispered one operative, hand on the shoulder of the other.
Shivam lifted a hand. "Hold. Wait for confirmation."
A figure emerged carrying a small duffel bag. As soon as the operative stepped onto the street, the unit moved in, blocking exits.
"Stop! Police and security!" Shivam shouted.
The figure bolted. A chase ensued down the alleyways, tactical flashlights slicing through early morning fog. The duffel bag was abandoned; its contents—a set of encrypted laptops and notebooks—were quickly secured by the team.
Shivam inspected the contents. "Looks like preparatory work. Communications, route maps, payment logs. No direct link to Veer yet, but the intent is clear. They're planning multiple coordinated strikes."
Upadhyay Group Headquarters – Operations Room – 8:15 A.M.
Back at HQ, Rishika's team was already dissecting the seized materials. Mahima fed the contents through decryption software, her eyes never leaving the screen.
"Laptops are locked with dual-layer encryption," she muttered. "But we can peel back the outer shell. Wait… yes, access confirmed."
Rishika leaned closer. "What do we have?"
Mahima's fingers moved across the keyboard like an extension of her mind. "Internal communications suggest an insider coordinating movement—delivery schedules, internal passwords, even security patrol shifts. And look here: payments routed to shell accounts in Country S, under the alias 'D. Singh-22.' This isn't just revenge. This is a full-scale financial and operational campaign."
Rishika's lips pressed into a thin line. "So every step last night—the attack, the clean exit—it was calculated, rehearsed, and funded. Who do we have on the inside?"
A quiet voice came from the far side of the room. "Accounts show that a former logistics officer, deactivated two years ago, accessed restricted files last night," said the Southeast Asia operations head. "Could be our mole."
"Good work," Rishika said. "Shivam, prep a field team. Mahima, patch the system. We isolate that account immediately. If they attempt another move, they walk into our trap."
City D – Central Plaza – 9:00 A.M.
Meanwhile, elsewhere in City D, Devraj Singh was watching. Through a secure feed, he observed the aftermath of last night's chaos and smiled. His plan was simple: destabilize, intimidate, and disorient the Upadhyay hierarchy.
He tapped a tablet, sending coded instructions to operatives positioned throughout City D.
Phase two begins at noon.
Upadhyay Group Headquarters – Operations Room – 9:30 A.M.
Rishika's voice was calm but unwavering. "We anticipate another attempt today. The pattern is deliberate: first, terrorize Veer. Next, sow chaos among departments. And finally, strike at finances. We counter each phase before it escalates."
Mahima added, "Preliminary tracing shows that the insider is attempting to manipulate payroll, routing salaries to offshore accounts under multiple aliases. If not intercepted, it could drain critical operational funds within hours."
Rishika's eyes never left the screen. "Activate dual verification for all financial transactions, freeze suspect accounts, and maintain a watch for external communications linked to D. Singh-22."
Shivam spoke up. "Field teams are in position. East corridor warehouse secured. Additional teams stationed at northern and southern transit points. If any operative tries movement, we'll intercept."
Rishika nodded. "Good. But that's not enough. We need redundancy. International and regional leads—notify all offices: any movement outside scheduled protocols triggers immediate reporting. No exceptions."
From the corner, the Northeast operations head added, "City D traffic patterns are being altered. There's a high probability of a decoy delivery to mislead the field teams."
Rishika's eyes narrowed. "Then we treat every movement as the main operation. No assumptions. Every exit, entry, shipment, or email—documented, traced, and verified.