By mid-morning, I was at my office. Still raw, still burning from the night.
Raghav handed me a folder, his eyes serious.
"Background check on Rathore. Everything we can get before you proceed. He's meticulous, Sera. Dangerous. Don't underestimate him."
I flipped through pages. Business ties, offshore accounts, shell corporations. Financial trails meticulously hidden. Media appearances polished into a veneer. His power—his reach—was more suffocating than I imagined.
I leaned back in my chair. Fingers pressed against my temples.
"This isn't just a trial," I murmured.
"No," Raghav said, voice low. "It's a war. And you've already been declared the enemy."
I nodded, jaw tight. My thoughts drifted to Nehra, to the month I had to survive before evidence could matter, before the court could listen.
And somewhere in the shadows of the files and figures, a seed of strategy began to grow.
Morning light filtered weakly through the blinds, but my mind was already alert, racing. One month. That was all I had. One month to find evidence strong enough to pierce Arvind Rathore's armor.
Raghav slid a folder across the desk. "We've traced his cab routes, shell accounts, every public appearance for the past three years. But Sera... he's untouchable on paper."
I leaned in, eyes scanning every detail. "Untouchable doesn't mean invisible. He's arrogant. Overconfident. Every mistake leaves a trail—"
"Exactly," Raghav interrupted. "We watch, we wait. And we hit when he can't anticipate it."
I nodded, jaw tight. Patience. Observation. Precision.
Evening brought exhaustion I couldn't shake. My apartment felt smaller, suffocating. I reviewed footage again, maps again, connections again. Every tiny inconsistency could be a lever. Every detail a weapon.
Raghav noticed my eyes, dark and unblinking. "You need sleep."
"I can't," I whispered. "Every hour she waits... every hour he remains untouchable... someone pays."
I pressed my forehead to the cool glass of the window. The city lights reflected like eyes, watching, judging. I was alone in this, and I knew it.
One month.
Four weeks.
Twenty-eight days.
Every second counted. I couldn't sleep. I couldn't eat. The files, the maps, the phone calls, the hidden evidence—all of it was my battlefield.
And somewhere deep in the back of my mind, a dangerous thought surfaced:
Let them underestimate me. Let them think they control this. They won't see the storm coming.
how will sera prove it ? what's your thoughts about this ?