'PARLIAMENT, NEW DELHI

Zaid had looked everywhere, but Ava was nowhere to be found. He had been ignoring the calls from Raghav and even his sister, Chandani, who was frantically trying to tell him that Ava really had been kidnapped—that someone had taken her by force.

Deep down, he knew the truth. The broken window in the bathroom and the shattered glass told him that his wife truly had been abducted.

He should have been calling his parents, or his security, or filing a report, but he just couldn't believe it. 

His wife... Ya Allah.

What had I done?

Why am I so egoistic? If I hadn't been such a brainless idiot, she would still be here. He let out a shaky breath, leaning back against the hallway wall.

He was supposed to be taking her to the market, and now she was gone. Had some enemy kidnapped her? Oh God, they must be hurting his Ava.

Shit... Shit... Shit...

Tears slid down his face, leaving a burning sensation on his cheeks as he collapsed against the wall. Chandani rushed over, catching her brother.

"Zaid Bhai!" she screamed, catching him as her own eyes welled up with tears, having never seen her brother like this before.

(''Brother!'')

She looked up at Raghav, who looked equally worried. Walking out, Raghav quickly dialed Shahveer and Mahira, telling them to get here immediately. Traveling all the way from Lucknow to Delhi would take time, so the sooner they started, the better.

Because Parliament was in Delhi.

Chandani gently shook her brother. "Bhai, please don't break down like this. You need to find Bhabhi, and she must be waiting for you," she whispered, hoping to snap Zaid out of his paralyzing guilt.

He froze. It wasn't because he was embarrassed that people saw him crying, but because he was terrified of what kind of danger she might be in.

Zaid looked up from where his face was buried in Chandani's shoulder. Her words hit him like a meteor striking his chest.

Ava was in danger; crying was of no use now. He had to get his wife back safely. He stood up, pulled out his phone with trembling hands, and rushed out of the parliament, not caring that people were seeing Zaid Zoravar uncomposed for the very first time.

He didn't care. All he cared about was finding his wife. Because he had failed once again. All because of his ego, he had thought he could protect her on his own, refusing to bring his security detail. He remembered Aman's words from earlier:

"Sahab, let us come with you."

(''Sir, let us come with you.'')

But he had said no.

 He had wanted to be the only one to protect Ava. And now she was gone. She was gone because of his pride.

And Zaid Zoravar might never forgive himself if something happened to his wife.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

SOMEWHERE IN A WAREHOUSE IN LUCKNOW

Ava finally opened her eyes. She blinked several times, trying to make sense of the darkness around her. Her head was throbbing. For a few seconds, she couldn't remember where she was. Then she looked down.

Rope was wrapped tightly around her wrists and torso, binding her to a chair. Her eyes sharpened instantly.

Someone had kidnapped her. Her mind immediately began going through everything she remembered.

The washroom.

The door.

Someone coming up behind her.

Then—

Her head being slammed against the wall.

Nothing after that.

"Fuck."

She pulled against the ropes once, testing them. Too tight. Her gaze moved around the room. Dark. Empty. No obvious exits. No weapons. Nothing she could use to cut herself free.

Which piece of shit was trying to ruin my mission?

Everything had been going according to plan.

And now this.

"Fuck. Fuck."

She cursed under her breath, angry more at herself than anyone else. She should have noticed. She should have been more careful. Her training had taught her better than this.

Then she heard footsteps.

Ava immediately went still. Her hand slipped instinctively into the pleats of her saree. Her fingers closed around the small knife hidden there. Training took over before fear could.

The footsteps came closer. A figure appeared through the darkness. Ava didn't wait. She lunged. But before she could get close enough, a hand caught her wrist.

Strong. Far stronger than she expected. Her wrist was twisted back in one swift movement, forcing a cry from her throat. The knife slipped from her fingers and clattered onto the floor. Pain shot through her arm. Her eyes watered instantly.

A low chuckle came from the person standing in front of her.

Ava's stomach dropped. She knew that laugh. But she still couldn't see the face.

The broken bangles around her wrist dug painfully into her skin as the grip tightened. She glared into the darkness. "If you've got the guts, show me your face, you motherfucker."

Silence.

Then a snap of fingers. The lights came on.

Ava blinked against the sudden brightness. There were men standing around the room. She hadn't even noticed them.

And then her eyes landed on the woman standing in front of her. Red. An asymmetrical chiffon dress. High red heels. The fabric was so deep it almost looked like dried blood under the harsh lights.

The woman slowly released Ava's wrist. Then she crouched in front of her.

Ava froze.

No.

She knew those eyes. Cold. Sharp. Unforgiving. Victoria Sterling. Her handler. The woman who had trained her. The woman who had made her into NYX.

Victoria's palm struck her cheek before Ava could say anything.

The sting spread across her face.

"Is that how you speak to the person who fucking made you who you are?"

Victoria's voice was quiet. That was what made it worse. She leaned closer, her breath brushing against Ava's cheek.

Ava lowered her gaze.

"I—"

Another slap.

Harder.

Ava's head snapped to the side. She tasted blood.

"Did I give you permission to speak, sweetheart?"

Ava's lips pressed together.

She shook her head.

"No."

"Good."

Victoria stood. She made a small gesture toward the men behind her. A chair was brought over. Victoria sat down, crossing one leg over the other as her heels clicked softly against the concrete floor.

Ava flinched at the sound.

Victoria noticed. Of course she did. "You think you're getting clever, Ava?"

Ava shook her head.

Victoria tilted her head.

"Barely three days into this mission and you've already made mistake after mistake."

Her voice hardened.

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

Ava swallowed.

She knew exactly what Victoria meant. The fainting. The study. Getting too close to Inaya. Allowing her personal feelings to interfere with the mission.

And then today—

Searching Zaid's office. She should never have done that. Not that quickly. Not when she hasn't even created a bond with Zaid yet.

Victoria leaned forward. "You were told to get close to Zaid Zoravar. Not get careless."

Ava said nothing.

"You think you can decide that this is your last mission and suddenly walk away?"

Victoria's eyes narrowed.

"You don't get to decide when you're done."

Ava's stomach tightened.

Victoria leaned back.

"And if you make another mistake..."

She paused.

"I wonder how your brother is doing at college."

Ava went completely still.

That was different.

Her eyes immediately filled with fear.

"Don't."

It came out barely above a whisper.

Victoria smiled.

There it was.

The reaction she had been waiting for.

"You wouldn't want anything happening to him, would you?"

Ava shook her head quickly.

"No."

Her voice cracked.

"Please."

Victoria watched her. The woman who had faced dangerous men without blinking was suddenly terrified. Because Tristan wasn't just her brother. He was the only family she had left. The reason she had entered this life in the first place. The reason she had stayed. The one person she could never afford to lose.

"I'm sorry."

Ava's breathing became uneven.

"Please don't do anything to him. I promise. I won't do this again."

Victoria's expression softened. Not with kindness. With satisfaction. "Of course you won't, darling." She reached forward and tilted Ava's chin upward.

"But tell me something."

Her voice became almost gentle.

"What happens when someone makes a mistake?"

Ava stared at her. Her breath caught. She already knew.

"They get..." Her voice trembled. "...punished." 

Victoria smiled.

"That's right."

She looked toward one of the men standing behind her.

"Get the hot iron rod."

Ava's entire body went rigid. For the first time since waking up, she wasn't thinking about the mission. She wasn't thinking about Zaid. She wasn't thinking about the agency. She was thinking about Tristan.

And somehow, the warehouse that had already felt cold became colder.

Ava stared at Victoria.

And for the first time in a very long time, Agent NYX was genuinely afraid.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

PENTHOUSE IN DELHI

Mahira and Shahveer had arrived almost fifteen minutes ago. The moment they heard their daughter-in-law had been kidnapped, it felt like a nightmare. Shahveer was already making frantic calls to every powerful contact in his network, while Mahira wept quietly—her tears raw and uncontained.

Inaya wasn't here she had been out of city for some work and most probably didn't know what was happening.

Mahira might not have known Ava for very long, but Ava's gentle, kind nature had earned a special place in Mahira's heart. Now, her innocent daughter-in-law was in the hands of her son's ruthless enemies.

In the kitchen, Chandani and Raghav were making chai for everyone, knowing that a hot cup might offer a small sense of comfort and help everyone cope with the overwhelming crisis.

Meanwhile, standing rigid near the mahogany window overlooking the city of Lucknow, Zaid stared blindly outside. He had never felt so utterly pathetic or miserable in his life. Not even during his darkest days in the orphanage had he felt this defeated.

He felt like a complete failure—worse than when Ava had fainted in front of him. At least then, she was in his sight. Now, she was gone. He had no idea where she was, or how she was being treated.

Ya Allah...

The mere thought made his stomach churn with nausea. Tears filled his eyes again as he pictured her—vulnerable, alone, and terrified.

Despite Zaid's attempt to hide his despair, Mahira noticed the subtle tremor in his shoulders. She stood up, crossed the room, and gently reached out to stroke his hair.

That was his breaking point.

Zaid completely broke down, turning around to collapse into his mother's arms. Shahveer paused mid-call, looking up at his son. Where some fathers might have snapped and told their son to stop crying like a child, Shahveer would never say such a thing. He knew that regardless of gender or strength, everyone eventually needs a shoulder to lean on.

Meanwhile, outside the penthouse, Aryaveer had just arrived. The second he learned Mrs. Zoravar had been abducted, he knew his boss needed him. He hadn't been at the parliament that day, caught up in other work, but now he was deeply alarmed. He had been around long enough to know how many powerful people wanted a man like Zaid Zoravar brought down.

Not because Zaid was corrupt, but because he fought for genuine change in a country where those in power profited off the vulnerable. Zaid Zoravar had a heart of gold, choosing to fight for justice in a society that often cared more about what a woman wore than why she was assaulted on a moving bus.

Aryaveer let out a heavy sigh and prepared to head inside when an auto-rickshaw pulled up right beside him. He turned and spotted Anika stepping out.

She was here. Again.

He had seen her just yesterday, yet he hadn't been able to get her out of his head since. With just a few simple words, she had completely disarmed him. He remembered the feeling of not wanting to let go of her hand, and how he had freely laughed when she called Zaid "grumpy." Even though Zaid wasn't actually grumpy—just reserved—Aryaveer had found himself agreeing with her anyway.

And then there was the way she had told him to smile more. No one had ever told him they liked his smile.

He figured she was probably just flirting, or perhaps being friendly. A woman like her couldn't possibly care for a dull man like him. Why would she?

He watched as Anika stood a few feet away, looking visibly frantic. She was genuinely terrified for Ava, her mind racing with thoughts of who could have done this. To make matters worse, she realized she had forgotten her wallet. She stared at the auto driver, who was giving her a suspicious glare like she was trying to rob him.

Should I just kill him? she wondered for a split second, before slapping her forehead in frustration. God, Anika, get a grip. Stop defaulting to violence! A slit to the throat, two minutes of struggling... No, stop it.

Before she could panic further, Aryaveer stepped in. Seeing her rummaging through her empty bag, he pulled out his wallet without a word and handed the driver the fare. The driver nodded respectfully and drove off.

Anika looked up, genuinely surprised. "Aap?" she whispered softly. "You didn't have to do that."

Aryaveer offered a subtle, rare smile—the very smile she had praised just yesterday. "I can do at least this much for someone who told me I should smile more. Besides, Mata Rani teaches us never to turn away someone in need."

Anika nodded, her panic returning in a rush as her mind snapped back to Ava. God, why am I losing focus?

She looked at him hesitantly. "Uh... we should head inside. They must be waiting, and I'm just... really worried about Ava."

Aryaveer nodded, understanding her anxiety, and together they walked up toward the penthouse.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

A few hours had passed, yet they still had no clue where Ava was, and Zaid was losing his mind not knowing if his wife was safe.

Though they had no concrete proof, suspicion naturally fell on political rivals. Yuvaan Sisodia, a former politician just like Shahveer, had already phoned in with his support, knowing that one of Zaid's enemies must have orchestrated this. Yuvaan had even arrived at the penthouse alongside his wife, Aarohi. Their son, Samar—who happened to be Zaid's best friend—was on his way, arriving right when Zaid needed him most.

But Zaid's mind was spiraling. Fueled by rage, only one name echoed in his head.

Farooq Rehmani.

He didn't have any evidence against him. Anyone who knew Zaid Zoravar knew he never blamed people without proof, and when he did point fingers, he usually remained ice-cold and calculated.

He stared down at his bruised knuckles, knowing that if anyone saw them, they would panic. He hadn't been able to control himself; consumed by the fury of failing to save his own wife, he had punched the wall until it cracked. If he went back out there, they would see. They would see how completely unraveled he was.

Without a second thought, he pulled out his phone and messaged Aryaveer, who was still downstairs.

Zaid was a completely different man right now. Gone was the composed politician; in his place stood a man burning with a blinding, terrifying rage that he wanted to unleash on someone—or himself.

Zaid Zoravar rarely lost his temper, but today, he had entirely snapped. He had finally realized just how deeply he loved her; he couldn't bear the thought of Ava experiencing even a single second of pain. He remembered the exact moment they met: her shy demeanor, the way she had looked up at him when he shielded her from a spilling cup of hot chai.

From that very instant, he had fallen in love with Ava, even if it had taken time for his logical mind to accept it. Who falls in love at first sight without even knowing someone? Yet he had.

Normally, he never panicked. He was always in control, making mature, deliberate decisions. But he had lost all of that now, and he didn't care. Not for a single minute.

He was losing his grip entirely. He wanted to tear the world apart; his wife was missing, and he was powerless. He no longer cared about his principles, his clean record, or playing by the rules. If anyone wanted a rivalry, if anyone wanted revenge, he would destroy them all.

When it came to his Begum, principles meant nothing.

Downstairs, Aryaveer stood beside Raghav, staring at the chaos they had just created. He had made another cup of chai for Mahira, hoping it would somehow console her, but she seemed to be crying harder with every passing moment, wondering where her daughter-in-law could possibly be.

Chandani sat beside her, trying to console her, while Aarohi said nothing. She simply kept rubbing Mahira's shoulders because she knew that when something happened to a child, there was nothing anyone could say to make a mother feel better.

Not until her child was found safe.

Aryaveer's gaze drifted toward Anika.

She stood quietly in the corner. He could see it. She was trying not to cry. Her best friend was missing, and she was trying so hard to hold herself together, but the tears welling in her eyes betrayed her. She kept blinking them away, her hands clenched tightly into the fabric of her kurti.

God. Ava was really missing. In all the missions Anika had been part of till today, not once had a spy gone missing under her watch.

Who would even want to hurt Ava?

And the most frustrating part was that Anika couldn't control her own emotions.

It was too much. Ava wasn't just her partner on this mission. She was her best friend in real life. The first day Anika had entered the agency, her handler had slapped her hard for introducing herself without being asked.

Ava had been there. She had cracked some ridiculous joke afterward even though she didn't know how to crack one and somehow made the entire day feel lighter.

And now, once again, she was the person who was missing.

Anika had never really had a family. The agency and the people there had become something close to an extended family over the years.

But Ava had always been there.

And now she wasn't.

This was the first time they had actually worked together on a mission.

And now Ava was gone.

She couldn't even pull out her burner phone or make a call with everyone surrounding her. She was trapped.

Aryaveer's phone suddenly buzzed. He pulled it out.

Zaid. His brows furrowed. Why would Zaid Sahab message him when he was just upstairs?

Then he read the message.

And his blood ran cold.

This wasn't something the Zaid Zoravar he knew would ever ask him to do.

Yet there it was.

His fingers trembled as he typed.

"Sahab, are you sure?"

The reply came within seconds.

"Yes. Do it."

Cold.

Final.

Aryaveer swallowed hard before slipping the phone back into his pocket. He turned and walked away. But Anika had noticed. She had seen the expression on his face. The way his eyes had changed when he read the message. The slight tremble of his hand. Something was wrong.

And right now, she couldn't contact anyone.

If Aryaveer was going somewhere, she needed to know where. They had been trained for such situations as well where you have to get along with the person you are sent to ruin

She rushed after him.

"Aap kaha ja rahe hai?" she asked softly.

(''Where are you going?'')

Aryaveer froze. Then slowly turned.

Anika stood behind him, worry written all over her face. He didn't want to tell her. He was about to do something wrong. Something he knew he shouldn't be doing.

But the order had come from Zaid.

And he couldn't ignore it.

Ya Mata Rani. How am I supposed to lie to her when she looks at me with those soft eyes?

"Anika, aap yaha kya kar rahi hai?" he whispered. "Andar jaaye. It's cold."

(''Anika, what are you doing here?'' he whispered.'' Go Inside. It's cold.'')

His eyes dropped briefly to her thin kurti.

"Aapko thand lag jayegi."

(''You could catch cold.'')

"Aap kuch karne jaa rahe hai."

(''You are going to do something.'')

Her voice trembled. Not the playful Anika he had seen a day ago. Not the dramatic girl who could turn any conversation into a joke.

She was genuinely scared.

"Please... just take me with you."

Aryaveer sighed. He couldn't lie to her. He didn't know why. He simply couldn't. So he told her.

He explained everything.

Anika froze.

For a moment, she couldn't even process it. Zaid Zoravar had actually asked Aryaveer to do this?

Zaid Zoravar who never believed in Violence had asked for this.

She looked at him, disbelief written across her face.

"You are really going to do that?" she asked softly.

"I have to."

Aryaveer looked away.

"And maybe... if those bastards really is at fault, Mrs. Zoravar will be back."

Then he looked at her again.

"I can't just let you come with me, Anika. I could get caught."

His voice dropped.

"And I know I most probably will."

He swallowed.

"I chose this job. You don't have to."

But Anika didn't care. Not right now. She had been sent here to ruin this man. Maybe she was supposed to expose him. Maybe she was supposed to destroy everything he had built. But Ava was all that mattered right now.

"Veer Ji..."

Aryaveer froze. The words hit him harder than they should have.

"Please let me come with you." Her voice was soft but certain.

"I can help you. And if we get caught..." She stepped closer.

"...it will be on me." Aryaveer stared at her.

Veer Ji?

Nobody called him that. Nobody. He tried to ignore the strange emotion that suddenly twisted through his chest.

"You called me Veer?"

Anika blinked.

"Haan."

(''Yes.'')

Then, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world, she shrugged.

"Aapka naam bohot bada hai na. Isliye."

(''Your name is big thats why.'')

And just like that, she turned and started walking toward the car.

"Aap aa rahe hai ya nahi?"

(''Are you come or not?'')

Aryaveer stood there for a second. Then shook his head, almost helplessly.

Mata Rani.

What was he doing?

He had just agreed to walk into something that could destroy everything he had built.

And now he was taking Anika with him.

The woman who had been sent here to dismantle the very man he worked for.

He followed her toward the car.

Ya Mata Rani... bacha lena.

Dono ko.

Inside the house, Shahveer stood beside Yuvaan, both of them leaning against the window as they stared out at the city.

Neither of them had anything to say. There were simply no words left. 

Zaid was still upstairs, all alone. Shahveer had gone to check on his son earlier and had found him completely broken after hearing that his wife was missing.

He had never seen Zaid like that. Never. His knuckles were bruised and bleeding, his fists having taken the punishment his heart couldn't.

Shahveer had watched his son lose control in a way he never thought possible. But perhaps that was what love did to a man. It made him become the very thing he had once sworn he would never be.

In the centre of the living room, Mahira wasn't crying anymore. Her eyes were swollen and bloodshot, but the tears had stopped. Aarohi sat beside her quietly, one hand resting over hers. Chandani sat on her other side while Raghav stood silently in the corner.

The entire house felt suffocating. Then Shahveer sighed and finally walked toward the sofa. He lowered himself down without looking. Only to suddenly wince. He had sat directly on the television remote.

The television flickered on. Shahveer immediately stood up, annoyed, reaching down to pick up the remote.

But then he looked up.

And froze.

The screen showed a photograph from that morning. Zaid and Ava leaving Parliament. Reporters surrounding them. Cameras flashing from every direction.

Ava had been visibly uncomfortable, her saree pallu pulled over her head as she tried to hide from the cameras. Zaid had stood beside her, repeatedly asking the reporters to let them go.

He had even explained gently that his wife didn't like the attention. But the reporters hadn't cared.

They had kept pushing.

And now they had taken those few moments, twisted them beyond recognition and turned them into something ugly.

A giant headline flashed across the screen.

ZAID ZORAVAR, A MUSLIM POLITICIAN, FORCES HIS AMERICAN WIFE AVA HART TO FOLLOW HIS CULTURE.

For a few seconds, nobody moved. Nobody breathed. Shahveer's jaw clenched. What the hell?

None of it was true. Not a single word. His son had never forced Ava to do anything. Not her clothes. Not her beliefs. Not her religion. Nothing. If anything, Zaid had spent half his life making sure people had the freedom to choose for themselves.

But the media had taken one photograph and built an entire story around it.

A Muslim husband. An American wife. A saree. A covered head.

And suddenly it became a story about oppression.

Shahveer's fists tightened at his sides. He knew exactly what these reporters were doing. They didn't care about the truth. They cared about headlines. They cared about TRP.

And now they were dragging his son's religion into it simply because it made the story uglier.

Mahira gasped. Her eyes immediately filled with tears again. "No..." Her voice broke.

She stared at the screen. "My Zaid would never..." She couldn't finish. She knew her son. She knew the man he was. He could be stubborn. He could be strict. He could carry the weight of the entire world on his shoulders without complaining.

But he would never force a woman to become someone she wasn't. Especially not his wife.

Chandani stared at the screen in disbelief. Raghav's expression hardened. Yuvaan slowly stepped away from the window, his eyes fixed on the television. Even Aarohi looked stunned.

They were already dealing with Ava's disappearance.

And now this.

Another crisis. Another story. Another attempt to tear the Zoravar name apart. Shahveer looked toward the staircase. Somewhere upstairs, his son was already fighting a battle he could barely survive.

And now the entire country was being given another reason to judge him.

His jaw tightened.

"This day..."

He whispered bitterly.

"...couldn't possibly get any worse."

But somewhere upstairs, Zaid didn't know yet.

And perhaps that was the only mercy left in this house.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

PARLIAMENT

The Parliament corridors were almost empty by the time Aryaveer and Anika reached Zaid's office. People were giving Aryaveer weird looks, and he didn't understand why, but he chose to ignore them. He had more important things to do right now.

Aryaveer walked ahead without saying a word. Anika followed closely behind. She could see the determination in him.

The kind of determination that came when a person had already made a decision and was simply walking toward its consequences.

Aryaveer stopped outside Zaid's office and glanced around the corridor.

"Yahan koi nahi aayega," he murmured.

(''No one will come here.'')

He pulled out his access card. The lock clicked. The door opened.

Anika stepped inside behind him.

The office was exactly as it had been a few hours ago when Zaid had come here with Ava.

Neat. Organized. Almost painfully so. Everything had its place.

Aryaveer shut the door behind them. Then he walked toward the large bookshelf behind Zaid's desk. Anika watched as he pulled out three books from the middle shelf.

Nothing happened.

He pulled out another. A faint click sounded. The entire wooden panel shifted.

Anika's eyes widened.

Aryaveer glanced at her.

"I like to keep things private."

The panel opened completely. He looked back at her.

"He doesn't know about this. Zaid Sahab always thought violence wasn't the answer. He believed we should ignore our enemies, forgive them, move on and focus on doing good deeds."

He took a deep breath.

"I know I shouldn't have, but I kept collecting the evidence anyway. I hid them here. Sahab doesn't know."

Behind the panel was a narrow steel cabinet built into the wall.

Anika stared, taking in his words. This wasn't an ordinary politician's office. There were files. Dozens of them. Maybe hundreds. Some were old enough that the edges had yellowed. Others were neatly sealed and labelled.

Names.

Dates.

Departments.

Companies.

Politicians.

Officials.

Enemies.

Anika slowly stepped closer.

"What is all this?"

Aryaveer unlocked the cabinet.

"Evidence."

He pulled out a thick black file.

"Over the years, I have collected information on almost everyone who has tried to cross him."

He placed the file on the desk. Anika opened it. Photographs. Bank transactions. Property records. Copies of contracts. Phone records. Newspaper clippings. Police reports.

Her eyes moved rapidly across the pages.

"This is..."

"Enough to put each one of them behind bars."

Aryaveer took another file.

"And this one."

He opened it. A politician. Evidence of bribery. Another. Illegal land deals. Another. Threats against a journalist. Another. Government contracts being sold under the table.

Anika looked at him.

"You kept all of this?"

"For years."

Aryaveer turned another page.

"Whenever someone tried something against Zaid Sahab, he never let anyone retaliate immediately."

His voice was quiet.

"I collected proof."

He closed the file halfway.

"Then when there was enough, I decided that one day, in the future, I would hand everything over to the police."

Anika stared at the documents.

That wasn't what she had expected.

She had thought Aryaveer was just some normal secretary. But he was sharp. Intelligent. He knew when to act and when not to.

This was different. Aryaveer pulled another file from the cabinet.

"All of them are still in politics," he whispered, disdain clear in his voice, like he wanted nothing more than to end their careers but couldn't.

He opened it.

"Some of them even reached higher positions."

Another file.

"Some think they're free now."

Anika's gaze moved across the shelves.

There were so many.

"Why keep them if you can hand them over to the police?"

Aryaveer looked at her.

"Because it is for moments like this."

Anika went still.

He continued.

"Anything can happen, Anika. Being in this world, people don't spare anyone. So I kept it all, even when Zaid Sahab specifically told me never to collect these things."

His fingers tightened around the folder.

"So I kept copies."

That sentence stayed with her. Then Aryaveer suddenly pulled out another file. His expression changed.

Anika noticed immediately.

"What?"

He didn't answer.

He looked at the label. Then opened it. Inside were photographs of Nishkarsh Sharma.

Another politician.

Nishkarsh. There were financial records. Photographs of meetings. Names of associates. Copies of phone records.

And one photograph that made Anika's blood run cold.

Nishkarsh was standing beside a man she recognized. A man from the Directorate's intelligence database.

Her eyes narrowed.

"Where did you get this?"

Aryaveer looked at her.

"Zaid Sahab found it months ago."

Months?

Anika stared at the photograph. Then at the date. Her mind began racing.

If Aryaveer had this evidence months ago...

Then why hadn't he exposed Nishkarsh?

"Why didn't he give it to the police?"

Aryaveer was silent for a moment.

"He told me to throw this away. He said he didn't want a fight."

He looked down at the file.

"But I kept it."

He flipped another page.

"I wanted the entire network."

Anika's breathing slowed. The entire network. She knew exactly what that meant. This wasn't just about Nishkarsh. There were people behind him. People she had been sent to uncover.

And suddenly, the mission she'd thought she understood had become something else entirely.

Aryaveer closed the file.

"We aren't here for Nishkarsh."

Anika looked at him.

"Then what are we looking for?"

Aryaveer's expression hardened.

"Ava."

Silence.

He turned toward the cabinet again.

"If someone took Mrs. Zoravar, there has to be a reason."

His eyes moved over the files.

"And if that reason has anything to do with Zaid Sahab—which is most probably true now—then we will hand all this over to the police."

His jaw tightened.

"They'll arrest every one of these bastards."

He looked at the files again.

"And whoever kidnapped Mrs. Zoravar..."

His voice dropped.

"They'll have to let her go."

He pulled open another drawer.

"...we're going to find it."

Anika stepped beside him. For the first time that night, she wasn't thinking about her cover. She wasn't thinking about the Directorate. She wasn't thinking about Zaid.

She was thinking about one thing.

Finding Ava.

"Then let's find her."

Aryaveer looked back at her as they were about to leave for the police station.

"Anika suniye?"

Anika looked back at him. "Veer ji, boliye."

He set the files aside and sighed, his expression turning serious. When he spoke again, his voice was barely above a whisper.

"You can't tell anyone about these files, okay?" His usually calm and peaceful eyes bored into hers, suddenly intense. "And the fact that you came in here with me—you can't tell anyone about that either. You could get yourself into danger."

Anika nodded slowly, making sure her expression showed nothing but understanding.

"Ji, Veer ji. I understand."

She gave him a small, reassuring smile.

Poor fool. If only he knew that the moment she got a chance, these files would be going straight to her handler.

But Aryaveer didn't need to know that.

Not yet.

In the next hour Lucknow was in complete chaos. Every newspaper had the same story. But none of them had the answers.

POLITICAL STORM IN LUCKNOW: SEVERAL HIGH-PROFILE POLITICIANS VANISHED.

MINISTERS, BUSINESSMEN & POLITICAL FIGURES VANISH WITHOUT A TRACE

WHO IS BEHIND THE DISAPPEARANCES?

POLICE REMAIN SILENT AS POLITICAL FIGURES GO MISSING ONE AFTER ANOTHER

Photographs of the missing politicians covered the front pages. Men who had spent years sitting behind expensive desks. Men who had powerful connections. Men who had believed themselves untouchable.

Now, they were simply gone. No ransom demands. No phone calls. No CCTV footage. No explanation.

One newspaper called it an "unprecedented political mystery."

Another questioned whether the disappearances were connected.

And one headline made the entire city stop.

"IS SOMEONE TARGETING THE ENEMIES OF ZORAVAR?"

Because everyone knew that they had wronged Zaid Zoravar and held rivalry against him.

The article beneath it listed names.

Politicians.

Officials.

Businessmen.

Every single one of them had one thing in common.

At some point in their careers, they had crossed Zaid Zoravar. Some had openly challenged him. Some had threatened his family. Some had been involved in political scandals that Zaid had refused to ignore.

And now—

They were missing.

Police had started to work on the case. A senior police officer refused to answer when reporters asked whether Zaid Zoravar was connected to the disappearances.

"We are investigating," was all he said.

But the reporters weren't satisfied.

They kept asking.

"Is this political revenge?"

"Was Zaid Zoravar involved?"

"Are these disappearances connected to the kidnapping of his wife?"

That question changed everything. For the first time, Ava's kidnapping and the missing politicians appeared on the same page.

And suddenly, the city had a theory.

Someone was hunting the people responsible for taking Ava Zoravar.

But no one knew who.

No one knew where the missing politicians were.

And no one knew just how far Zaid Zoravar was willing to go to bring his wife home.

Because he might be a saint to the world but when it came to his wife he could become the monster people would have never seen.

Inside the penthouse, Shahveer stormed into the bedroom, staring at his son with a mix of anger and shock. Right behind him, Mahira followed closely, her hands trembling as she stared at the flashing news breaking across her phone screen.

"Zaid, what on earth did you do?" Shahveer asked, barely keeping his fury in check.

Zaid didn't flinch, nor did he try to defend himself. He had completely lost his grip on caution. He didn't care what anyone thought of him anymore; he only wanted to save his wife, and he would go to any lengths necessary to do it.

"I did what was right," he whispered, his tone firm yet devoid of disrespect. Even in the middle of his madness, he didn't forget how to speak to his father.

"You call this doing what is right?" Shahveer stared at his son in disbelief, his voice dropping into a loud, dangerous whisper sharper than any shout he had ever used. "You had people thrown in jail without even verifying if they were actually guilty!"

Mahira's eyes widened in horror. That tone, that language—her husband never swore, not unless things had crossed every conceivable boundary. She grabbed his arm tightly. "Shahveer..." she pleaded, reminding him to mind himself.

"Mind my language?" Shahveer turned back to her, frustration bleeding through. "Dekha nahi aapne, aapke bete ne kya kaand kiya hai?"

Mahira looked away, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks. Ya Allah, what was happening to her family? "He has lost his mind, yes! But shouting won't fix this. We are his elders; we are supposed to make him understand," she countered, her steady voice cutting through her husband's anger.

Shahveer let out a heavy sigh. Realizing the truth in his wife's words, he pulled her tightly against him, noticing the tremor in her frame. "Don't cry, meri jaan. Our Ava... our girl will be found," he whispered softly, pressing a reassuring kiss to the crown of her head.

Mahira nodded, wiping her tears, and gently gestured for him to leave so she could speak with her son alone. Without a word, Shahveer walked out.

Mahira turned to Zaid, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. The warmth of a mother's touch finally cut past the armor of his rage and madness.

"Zaid, bache, talk to Ammi. I'm right here," she whispered softly, watching as her son slowly turned around to face her. He was an absolute wreck—his knuckles bruised and split, his eyes bloodshot and rimmed with dark circles, carrying a suffocating guilt that only seemed to grow heavier by the second.

"Bacha, what have you done to yourself?" she asked, her voice trembling.

Zaid looked down at his mother, fighting desperately not to break down in front of her. "Maa, I don't care. I will tear everyone apart if I don't find my wife. I won't spare a single one of them if they have dared to touch my begum. I won't spare any of them," he whispered fiercely.

Unwilling to let his cracking composure show any further weakness, he pulled back, unable to stay in the room a second longer, and walked out.

About an hour later, Shahveer's phone rang. It was the police. He whispered into the tense silence of the room, "It's the police."

Everyone stood up instantly, desperate for good news.

The officer on the other line spoke hesitantly, "Sir, actually..."

Shahveer lost his temper, snapping, "Just fucking speak!"—before freezing under Mahira's tearful, sharp glare as Yuvaan placed a calming hand on his shoulder.

The officer flinched at the barked command. "Sir, we got a noise complaint from a warehouse in Lucknow. When we went to check it out... sir, we found a woman fainted there, wearing a saree. It was your daughter-in-law."

Before anyone else could react, Mahira snatched the phone from her husband's hand. "Ya Allah, shukriya, you found her! Is my bachi okay?"*

The officer hesitated. "I... I don't know if I should be saying anything over the phone, Ma'am. You should come and see for yourself."

Click. Just like that, the line went dead.

The temperature in the room plummeted, turning ice-cold. Nobody knew the full extent of it yet, but a grieving, furious man was about to transform into a monster—and he was going to hunt down every single person who had dared to hurt his begum.

⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

𝓟𝓡𝓞𝓙𝓔𝓒𝓣 𝓩𝓞𝓡𝓐𝓥𝓐𝓡

𝓢𝓘𝓣𝓐𝓡𝓐 𝓘𝓝𝓚𝓛𝓘𝓝𝓖