Adultery Love Sex And War : Age Of Darkness

[Demeter]

UPDATE

But I am also posting this update to share a very bizzare experience I had recently and I feel the need to share it with all as it is related to this story.

Now coming to the bizzare part. As I was watching the movie , I saw the introduction sequence of Pawan Kalyan and I actually had an out of body experience. And the reason for that was that the scene played out exactly the same way I intended to introduce Michael King in the flashback portion for my story. Just like how OG comes to save Prakash Raj's Dadaji character , Michael King is introduced in a flashback in his prime when he saves Manush Rustom , his father figure type character in a marketplace at Baku , Azarbaijaan. The difference is that the movie version has a distinct style and showcase as OG is showcased as a Samurai and very Japanese Martial Art expert , while Michael King in my story is a blend of an ancient European Knight weilding a greatsword rather than a Katana. Seeing that scene really gave me a strange feeling as I felt my story was coming alive right in front of my eyes.

Anyways , because of that , I had to omit out that entire sequence from the story as it was too similar. I already had certain pivot ideas , and I already have chosen one that will make the story interesting. Another decision I made is I am not going to do a full on flashback sequence but rather show some snippets in each future chapters so that Michael King's story will be told parallely to the current timeline of the storyline. 

Now , an important part to look out to for this next chapter , is that I will be introducing a fresh character that will be a key player in the Part 1 of this saga. So brace yourself for the character's arrival.

And like I said before , unexpected delays might happen , but thankfully Diwali is over and peace has returned. So I will try not to bring any more delays in the future and try to post updates every weekend. Anyways hope you guys love the next chapter when it comes this weekend as it makes me feel really happy and a lot of gratitude that so many readers loved my story so far.

With Lots Of Love And A Belated Happy Diwali From Me

                       Your's Truly

             HARRY JORDAN 

I would like to give your signature *Your's Truly * a musical meaning with this song by the band ‘ELO’, one of my favourite bands from the late 1970s and 1980s.  
This is also a gift to all fans of this excellently told and written story.

Thank you also for announcing the update at the weekend...

ELO - Yours Truly 2095 (music video)


Smell it, but don*t tear it off
Demeter

[Harry Jordan]

Update

So Readers , Chapter 26 will be live tonight. I have some fun with this chapter , because I once again scratched on the "cuckold" dynamic here as well. Though our character is not a cuckold , the idea is quiet spicy. But the more I am interested is the introduction of a new character who will be a key player in part 1 of the story. So I hope you like the character because this will take the story to a kind of setting not many will expect. Most likely the chapter will be live by midnight , but I am pretty sure the chapter will be uploaded in about two hours after I checked and edited it thoroughly. Hope you all enjoy the read of the new chapter as the story makes its way to a cross road!!!

[DeanWinchester00007]

Update

So Readers , Chapter 26 will be live tonight. I have some fun with this chapter , because I once again scratched on the "cuckold" dynamic here as well. Though our character is not a cuckold , the idea is quiet spicy. But the more I am interested is the introduction of a new character who will be a key player in part 1 of the story. So I hope you like the character because this will take the story to a kind of setting not many will expect. Most likely the chapter will be live by midnight , but I am pretty sure the chapter will be uploaded in about two hours after I checked and edited it thoroughly. Hope you all enjoy the read of the new chapter as the story makes its way to a cross road!!!

Yesterday , I was waiting for the update entire night and Now Today , you dropped this bomb ,  SCRATCHIING SOME CUCKOLD DYNAMICS ? Lol . More debauchery of SONA . She barely survived and now she is gonna back in Action again    and Now HEMANT might gonna see all that stuff ? Is the New Character gonna be SONA's new Boy Friend ? 

[DeanWinchester00007]

What is the process of Uploading the Chapter ? Does it work like same as making comment ? Or You have to submit and then someone approves it ? Strange I have been reading stories for years but do not know the process .

[DeanWinchester00007]

Today's the first day of NNN , and I am here waiting for the Update   . DROP IT NOW 

[Harry Jordan]

                                                                                                                                        CHAPTER 26

The soft hum of the ceiling fan mixed with the sound of Shraddha’s laughter. Tamanna twirled her daughter around the small living room, the weekend sunlight spilling through the balcony curtains. For the first time in weeks, their home felt light again. Shraddha had finally recovered from the nightmare of being kidnapped. The warm smell of pakodas filled the air. 


"You, madam, are getting extra bhajiya today" 

Tamanna teased, planting a kiss on her daughter’s forehead.


The moment shattered like glass. Engines growled outside. Tires screeched. The building trembled as a barrage of black SUVs stormed into the lobby. Through the window, Tamanna caught the sight of men in black suits spilling out like shadows. At their front walked a tall, broad-shouldered man in a tailored kurta with cold steel in his eyes — Amrit Bakshi Sengupta, brother of her deceased husband.


Amrit’s men had beaten the old watchman to the ground, one of them kicking his ribs mercilessly. Residents peered through cracked doors, whispering. No one dared step out. 

"Lock everything" Tamanna muttered to herself, slamming the bolt on her front door.

"Bhai, she’s on the fifth floor" 

A goon said, pulling out a steel rod. Amrit raised one hand. 

"No one touches the child" he growled. 

"She’s family. That woman, however…" His lips curled into a cruel smirk. 

"She needs to remember what royal blood demands"

The echo of thundering kicks shook the door. BANG! BANG! BANG! Shraddha screamed, clutching Tamanna’s arm. 

"Ma!" 

The door gave way on the fourth kick, crashing to the floor like a wounded beast. The scent of brute force filled the room as Amrit and five of his men stepped inside. Tamanna stumbled backward. 

"What the hell are you doing here?" she screamed. 

Amrit crushed the phone in her hand before she could dial. 

"We’re here for what’s ours" he said, shoving her down on the couch. 

His eyes slid to Shraddha. 

"My niece deserves marble floors and chandeliers, not this rat hole. And you…" 

His gaze crawled down Tamanna’s body. 

"…you’re still young enough to give our family more heirs"

Shraddha sobbed uncontrollably. Tamanna, trembling, spat back, 

"Over my dead body"

Amrit leaned closer, the scent of alcohol on his breath. 

"That can be arranged"

"I dare you to touch her"

The voice came from behind Amrit — low, steady, dangerous. The room’s air changed, like a storm gathering. Amrit turned, brows furrowing. There he was. Hemant Kumar, sleeves rolled up on a crimson denim shirt, eyes cold, jaw set like a blade. The light from the hallway haloed him as if the darkness feared to touch him. Tamanna’s breath hitched. Amrit sneered. 

"And who the hell are you?"

Hemant stepped forward, his boots thudding like hammers. 

"You're Amrit? Right?"

"Lucky guess , and you are?"

"I am the one who is going to reshape Amrit's face!"

"Big words" 

Amrit growled and lunged forward for a cheap punch — but Hemant moved like a ghost. One sidestep, and his boot slammed into Amrit’s chest. The don crashed onto the couch he had just claimed, coughing blood.

"Tammu" Hemant said, not taking his eyes off the men. 

"Take Shraddha to the bedroom. Lock the door. Don’t open till I say"

Tamanna clutched Shraddha and nodded, retreating. Her fingers shook on the doorknob as she locked herself inside, pressing Shraddha to her chest.

"Kill him!" Amrit screamed.

Four goons charged. Hemant didn’t flinch. Years of combat burned in his muscles — the infamous Michael King within him awakening. A fist came at him. He blocked, twisted the man’s arm, and slammed his face into the wall. Another swung a rod; Hemant ducked and kicked him into a table that shattered beneath the impact. Two more rushed together. Hemant leapt over the coffee table, grabbed one by the collar, headbutted him, then spun and elbowed the other in the throat. They collapsed like discarded trash. Amrit’s smugness vanished, replaced by disbelief.

"You picked the wrong house" 

Hemant muttered, cracking his neck. His men, dressed in black tactical wear, stormed in seconds later. 

"Clean this up" 

Hemant ordered. They restrained the wounded goons like they were nothing more than noisy furniture. 

"Boss, what about this one?" a man asked, pointing at Amrit.

"Make him remember whose city this is" Hemant said coldly.

When silence returned, Hemant walked to the bedroom door. He knocked gently. 

"Tammu. It’s me"

The lock clicked, and she opened it slowly. Her eyes widened at the wreckage — splintered wood, overturned furniture, groaning men being dragged out. She clutched Shraddha’s hand tighter. 

"Oh my god…"

Hemant took her trembling hand. 

"Breathe. I’ve got you both" His voice softened, a rare warmth breaking through the storm. 

"I have a place nearby. You can stay there. By the evening, this place will look brand new. With every broken things replaced with new ones. I assure you Tammu , you will not be bothered by any of them ever again!" 


Shraddha’s face lit up upon seeing him. She remembered the man who had saved her once before. Hemant carried her in one arm, guiding Tamanna out as they passed Amrit’s unconscious men. Outside, the SUV door opened, engines roared again — but this time, it was their escape, not their doom.


The day unfolded in quiet, golden light. In the company-owned apartment, Shraddha ran circles around the living room, still high on the thrill of rescue few hours ago. Tamanna watched from the doorway, her heart full. For the first time in weeks, her daughter’s laughter was unrestrained, pure. Hemant crouched down in front of her, holding up a pair of bright sneakers. 

"Princess, you ready to conquer the world today?"

Shraddha nodded eagerly. 

"Where are we going Uncle?" she chirped. 

Hemant winked. 

"Somewhere with slides taller than me, swings faster than airplanes, and candy that will make you forget every villain in the world"

Tamanna couldn’t help but smile. Seeing her daughter light up like that around him… it melted something deep inside her. A short drive later, they arrived at the play zone in Lower Parel — an explosion of colors, slides, and laughter. The moment Shraddha saw the huge play structure, she gasped as if she’d just seen a castle. Hemant knelt down beside her. 

"Well, Your Highness, shall we storm the fortress?"



Tamanna followed them with quiet amusement as Hemant — a man who could dismantle a group of armed men and goons in the morning — was now crawling through tunnels, pretending to be a dragon, and sliding down with Shraddha on his lap. Shraddha’s laughter was so loud it turned heads. He made every obstacle into an adventure, every turn into a moment of magic. On the bench nearby, Tamanna rested her chin on her palm, her eyes never leaving them. She hadn’t seen Shraddha this free since ever. In a way Hemant was giving her the fatherly love that she never got from Dev. Watching Hemant — a man with darkness and pain in his past — become a protector, a source of joy… it pulled her heart in ways she couldn’t deny anymore.


Hours passed in joy and sunlight. By the time they returned, the sky had turned soft orange. Tamanna slowed her steps as they reached her apartment building, a nervous flutter in her chest. She expected broken doors, splintered tables… reminders of violence. But when she unlocked the door, her breath caught. The entire place looked untouched — no cracks, no blood, no wreckage. A fresh door, polished furniture, even new curtains. It was as if the nightmare of the morning had never happened.

"Hemant…" she whispered.

He stepped in behind her, a small smile playing on his lips. 

"Told you. My people are fast" Shraddha squealed and ran to her room, spinning around in awe. 

"Ma! It’s all fixed!"

Dinner time came softly. Tamanna moved around the kitchen with practiced grace, but tonight it felt different. Hemant was there beside her — not as a guest, but as if he belonged. He rolled up his sleeves, chopping vegetables with military precision.

"You know" Tamanna said, laughing softly. 

"I’ve never seen a man this comfortable around coriander and frying pans"

He smirked. 

"Believe it or not , I always consider kitchen as my place of peace. Somewhere I can be easily distracted from my own problems. And some good food becomes the prime focus"

They sat at the table together, Shraddha between them, a small, glowing island of warmth. She kept feeding Hemant pieces of roti like it was some sacred game, and he played along with every dramatic bite. Tamanna’s heart filled with a strange ache — an ache that felt like home. After dinner, Shraddha yawned so wide it made Tamanna laugh. Hemant carried her to her room, gently tucking her under the blanket. 

"Goodnight, brave warrior" he whispered. 

She wrapped her tiny arms around his neck in a sleepy hug. Tamanna stood at the door, silently watching. She saw how Shraddha’s eyes softened around him — the same way hers did. When he returned to the living room, the night had grown quiet. Tamanna hesitated, then said softly, 

"Its already too late.....Why don't you stay?"

Hemant raised a brow. 

"Tammu…"

She looked at the floor for a moment, then back at him. 

"Just tonight. Please. I don’t…..want the house to feel empty again....plus I want you alongside me tonight!"

He didn’t need more convincing. He nodded slowly. 

"Okay"

Hemant then sent a message to Sonarika , not giving her any reason for not coming home. Honestly , he no longer cared. He was already fed up of her 'peace woman' drama which irked him a lot. And the less time he spend with her , the better. Or else he might end up starting to hate her.


Later, Tamanna and Hemant sat on the couch together, wrapped in a loose throw blanket. A movie flickered on the TV — something romantic and a little too sensual for the late hour. Tamanna’s hair brushed his shoulder as she leaned closer. He could feel her warmth, her heartbeat in the quiet room. The tension was no longer a stranger between them. On the screen, the leads kissed like the world had narrowed to two heartbeats. Tamanna felt Hemant’s gaze shift to her. She didn’t turn immediately; she didn’t need to. The air between them thickened, slow and electric.

"Is Shraddha asleep?" he asked quietly. Tamanna’s eyes flicked up to his. 

"I locked her door" she whispered. 

"She’s safe"

The last wall between them fell in that silence. Hemant’s fingers brushed hers, hesitant at first, then bolder. Tamanna leaned in, her breath catching. It wasn’t just desire — it was a sense of need, of safety she hadn’t felt in years, but more than that , the need to be physical with him ever since their affair began. She simply could not take her fantasies of him from her mind , he was everything she wanted right now. His lips met hers in a slow, heated kiss that melted the space between them. She arched closer, his arms wrapping around her waist as if she were the only thing holding him to this world.


"mmmm....wait" Tamanna whispered stopping him.

"What's wrong" Hemant asked.

"Its just that.....its not my safe days.....so we have to be careful" Tamanna revealed.

"Oh......good thing I bought these" Hemant revealed a packet of condoms from his pocket.

"When did you buy these?"

"At the mall when you were with Shraddha at the playstore , I had a feeling this will come in handy considering how you looked at me all day"

"You're so full of yourself!"

"Are you saying my assumption is wrong?"

"Well? Not entirely"

"I know about your feelings woman....and I definitely know what you need right now!"

Saying that he kissed her with an intensity that made her hard to breathe. She thanked her lucky stars to have him in her life right now. Tamanna quickly straddled Hemant's lap and would grind her cunt against his hardening cock. Their kisses grew in passion and heat. He put his hands under her night shorts and felt her ass through her panties. It felt just as good as he remembered from their first time. Tamanna removed her shirt and threw it aside presenting him with her pale perky and wonderful tits. He loved how her nipples would poke out like little erasers. Hemant latched his lips onto the left one. 

"MHMMM" 

Moaned the sexy bright woman as she grabbed his head pulling him onto her breast even harder. He moved over and began licking her other nipple. He rubbed her pussy through her damp panties. She was so horny she had soaked her panties. Hemant placed his hands on her ass and held on tight as he stood up. Tamanna wrapped her legs around him. They kissed as he carried her to the guest bedroom.

He threw her on the bed and climbed atop of her sexy body. They returned to kissing and touching each other's skin wherever they could. Hemant took his shirt off and threw it on the ground. Tamanna didn't waste a second before running her hands on his chest and strong back. He placed kisses all the way down her body stopping to taste her tits once more before continuing to his target. Hemant pulled down her pyjama shorts along with her sexy panty. He spread her legs and dove right into her muff. She tasted wonderfully to him as he used his tongue to explore the folds of her most private regions. Her juices were flowing as he sucked on her clit which was only demanding it at this point. His fingers found her opening and almost had a mind of their own as they penetrated Tamanna with the only intention of making her cum time and time again.

"Ahhhhh! Hemant!! Lick me! FUCK!!" 

Tamanna was going wild. Her moans were getting louder and she continued to pump her clit against his face. Hemant sucked it into his mouth and ran his tongue all over it like crazy, driving her even crazier. He reached up with his free hand and grabbed one of her tits. He pulled on the nipple and toyed with her while his fingers pumped in and out of her at record speed. 

"HEMANT!! I'm FUCKIN CUMMING!! AHHHHH!!!" 

She came hard her juices pumping out of her cunt and being picked up by his tongue as quickly as he could. Hemant continued licking her cunt well after she had finished cumming. Hemant stood up from the bed and removed the rest of his clothes. He then took one condom from his packet and wrapped it into his meaty erection as Tamanna looked at him with baited breaths.


Hemant wrapped himself up and lay on top of Tamanna. They kissed again as he felt her soft breast and hard nipples against his chest. She grabbed his condom covered cock and directed him to her hot pussy. She was just as tight and warm as the his last time with her. Hemant wrapped his arms around her as he started pumping his cock into her. 

"mhmmmh" 

She moaned feeling him in the depths of her. Their eyes met as their bodies continued to pound and meet one another. Her pussy felt like velvet for him. They stopped kissing and just held their foreheads together as he propped himself on his forearms allowing him to fuck her harder and to hit her g spot from a different angle. Tamanna locked her legs around his back and grabbed his ass with her hands pushing him deeper and harder into her. 

"Ahhh!! Ahh!!! Ahh!!! FUCK, FUCK FUCK!! HEM--.. AHHHHH"

Tamanna was really losing herself now as her orgasm continued to get closer. Hemant kneeled and grabbed her hips, he would drive her entire body down on his cock and her screams only got louder. He stared down at her incredible body. Her small pale and sweaty tits bouncing up and down, her soft legs and her tight stomach.

With a few more seconds of stimulation and deep thrustings that seemed to stretch on way longer, she gave a shake, tensing up as she held back her climax as it rushed up on her, sharp and intense, much like last time she was with him as she gave several hard, short thrusts upward to force him as deep in her as she could while her finger went mad on her man's muscly back , clawing it with appreciation for a job well done.

She wailed loudly as she hit her peak, suddenly erupting as she shook and collapsed down below him as the strength in her legs failed, feeling his cock deep as she shuddered violently, her hips bucking and shoving upwards, squeezing intently at his cock to make him throb as she quaked. Her fingers never stopped clawing, just cranking every last drop of her climax as her eyes squeezed shut and her breath caught in her throat, her orgasm just hitting her so much harder than she expected and making her grope him tighter and harder into the pleasure of it with everything she had. He just held her hips as she rocked below him, immensely turned on to see her come with his cock in her like this.

"AHHH HEMANT! I AM HERE!!!!" 

Tamanna mumbled, a small admission to how incredible it'd felt to reach her peak

"UGGHHHH TAMMU I AM CLOSE!!!!" 

Hemant screamed out. He could feel his orgasm getting crashing onto him like a wave. The cum was building up in his cock just ready to blow. He lay down on top of her and wrapped her up in his arms. He closed his eyes and focused on the sensations taking place around his cock. 

"FUCK!!" 

Hemant screamed as his cock finally exploded sending what felt like gallons into the condom. They looked at each other and smiled. Their lips met again as they kissed.

"Hope the condom survived!" Tamanna gasped between breaths.

"It did" 

Hemant said between deep breaths as he slowly separated from her , his cock moving out of her in slick way as Hemant meticulously removed the condom from his penis and  tied. He then threw it in the nearby dustbin as he laid on the bed more comfortably. Tamanna sighed as she giggling.

"What's so funny!" Hemant asked.

"Its nothing....nothing funny just......feeling surreal that the man I fancied gave me one of the best orgasms of my life.....its like when you put expectations to something.....and then you get so much more than that"

"Really.....honestly I feel greatful that you enjoyed.....though I feel you like what I do because you fancy me"

"Maybe.....but I have this....doubt.....I mean...its nothing..."

"What is it"

"Its personal.....you might feel hurt..."

"Believe me Tammu.....after what I did.....I am willing to face an army for that experience....so ask....I won't mind"

"Its.....Sonarika"

Hemant felt a little bit of regret when she said her name. Tamanna noticed the sadness in his face.

"I told you , you would be upset"

"No its ok. Ask away"

"Its just....why? why did she have the need of an affair when you are.....this good in bed!"

Hemant giggled as he responded.

"Lets just say I improved a little bit late , you do remember I was fat and slow not so long ago"

"Yeah I remember , still looked cute though"

"Then I turned my life around , but turns out it was too late when it came to Sonarika. Now she has a millionaire lover who warms her bed for her future"

"Maybe we should not talk about her. I think anything about her bothers you"

"Yeah , in a way , I am this close to hating her Tammu. I want to hate her , for the severe wound she has inflicted on me , but Karan , he is the reason I hold back my emotions regarding her"

"Karan can be your best  emotional support"

"He is , just seeing him laugh gives me enough strength to move forward in life....its just..."

"What?"

"Its her.....she is lately been acting all different......changing her lifestyles.....putting a more good woman act......."

"What if she is genuine about it?"

"No Tammu.....she is not at all genuine......I used to believe she was trying to heal herself......and she acted all scared and deflected my touches.....then the next moment she spread her legs for Vikram.......everything about her is an act now......even now she is trying to convince me she is changed but I know she will do the same thing again.......the next time she sees Vikram again she will strip herself and submit to him.......its her real nature now!"

"Okay....I think we've talked enough about Sonarika.....lets change the subject......"

"Okay..."

"BTW.....I hate the condom thing......honestly it feels so dissatisfying with a rubber wrapped around you........I missed the last time when you basically shot up my insides with your cock gun!"

"Heheh....cock gun?"

"Yeah.....its something only you can do.....your cumming is like a gun going off......and even though sometimes it hurts....the pleasure generated by that is universal!"

"Maybe next time.....I'll do without it!!"

"Hmm.....how about.....a little proposal"

"Proposal?"

"Yeah.....my Studio is doing a contemporary Ad shoot for a watch brand with a Bollywood actress......we're looking for a male model with it......and lately I've been thinking about you"

"Another photoshoot?"

"A bit of both....its both commercial and a shoot....we will be doing it at the Mariott Hotel.....I've booked the VIP suite for the shoot.....and ever since seeing your photos in that Bridal Magazine....I had an idea of how to make Hemant Kumar the rising business magnate more popular...."

"So you want me to do the shoot so that....it gives me more fame?"

"Yeah....something like that....alongwith"

"Alongwith with what my lady!"

"Heh.....like I said....its a full day shoot.....and Shraddha will be here been looked out by Chaitali for that night.......so I can have the mariott hotel suite all for myself.....and my special man!"

"Is that my reward for the photoshoot?"

"Oh yeah.....financially it won't be a big sum for you.....but that suite and that night.....it can be quiet rewarding"

"hmm.....I wonder.....how rewarding"

"Well first off.....no involvement of rubber......just skin on skin....fluid to fluid.....and.....something that will involve a bottle of lube......and a forbidden door!"

Hemant's eyes went wide as he looked at her with disbelief.

"Are you serious Tammu?"

Tamanna responded by opening the table drawer nearby and revealing the lube bottle. Hemant took it in his hand as he looked at her and the bottle astonished.

"You really wanna do that? Anal?"

"I do.....and I trust you will make my moment quiet memorable!"

"But why?"

"Well.....its...part of my fantasy.....I always desired to loose my virginity with you....but then Sanjana happened and my moment was ruined.....and Dev played it safe with me.....but now that I have you in my life right now....I feel the need to fullfill that fantasy......so I want you to take my anal virginity.....I want to feel that raw sexual thrill from it......to live out a part of me claimed by you......so that I will have no more regrets of ruined memories!"

"Wow...Tammu...I am glad you see me worthy but....are you sure about this?"

"Without a doubt.....I know it might be painfull......but the way your cock stretch my pussy lately.......I have this raw urge to see that big meat penetrate and reshape my asshole......."

"Tammu....it will hurt....you don't have to do this"

"I don't care if it hurts Hemant....and even if it does....then the Mariott Hotel Suite will hear me screaming your name........I need that moment Hemant.......and I know you want it too!"

"How"

"Because....I've been jerking your cock for the last minute and it only became hard when I said about my anal virginity!"

Hemant looked down and realized her hand was caressing his now rock hard meat.

"I hope your pocket didn't have just a single condom!!" Tamanna giggled.

Hemant responded by kissing her deeply as he got on top of her. He reached for the condom packet to wrap himself up knowing his work is not done for the night.

The night unraveled with whispered breaths and soft moans against the backdrop of the sounds the bed made. Their bodies fit together with a familiar ease, born not from recklessness but from trust and hunger long starved. Outside, the city kept its noise, but inside that little apartment — rebuilt from attraction into warmth — Tamanna and Hemant built something wordless, wild, and achingly real.


The first light of dawn had not yet slipped through the curtains, yet the quiet guest room already held a faint amber hue. Hemant slowly stirred, his body heavy with the delicious laziness that follows deep, dreamless sleep. The air was cool against his skin, carrying the faint scent of her — warm, feminine, familiar.


Then he felt it — the quiet weight beside him, the faint scent of her skin clinging to the sheets. Tamanna lay facing him, her body dbangd in the shirt he’d worn yesterday, its buttons half open, teasing more than they hid. Her hair spilled across the pillow like shadows. The sight hit him like a spark against dry air. Every memory of the night before came rushing back — her hands, her gasps, the way she had clung to him like she belonged nowhere else. Something deep within him stirred, sharp and undeniable. God, she was a vision.


His cock, already stiff with morning wood, throbbed almost painfully against his thigh, now fully awake and insistent. The urge to be inside her again was a primal, overwhelming need. He moved with a predator’s quiet grace, sliding his hand to the nightstand, his fingers finding the small foil packet. He sheathed himself quickly, the soft rustle of the wrapper sounding deafening in the silent room.


He shifted closer, spooning against her warm body, one arm dbanging over her waist. She murmured something unintelligible in her sleep, nuzzling deeper into the pillow. His heart hammered against his ribs. He guided his condom-sheathed length, the latex already slick with a drop of his own anticipation, to her entrance. So warm. Even in sleep, her body was ready for him. He rubbed the broad head of his cock over her slick folds, a slow, teasing circle that made her hips twitch.


A soft, sleepy sigh escaped her lips. That was all the invitation he needed.


In one swift, fluid motion, he pushed forward, burying his entire length inside her in a single, deep stroke.

"aaaahhhhhhhhhmmmmmmmggrrhhhh!"

Tamanna’s eyes flew open. A sharp, gasping moan was torn from her throat as her body seized, her back arching against his chest. 

"Ahhhh! Hemant!" 

Her voice was thick with sleep and sudden, intense sensation. Her inner walls, soft and pliant from sleep, clenched around him in shocked surprise, a hot, velvety fist gripping him tight. He stilled, letting her adjust, his own breath coming in ragged pants against her neck. 

"You’re… you’re harder than last night" she groaned, her voice a husky whisper laced with awe.

He nipped at her earlobe, his voice a low growl. 

"It’s all because of you. Waking up to this… to you like this… I couldn’t wait" 

He began to move, a slow, deliberate retreat before pushing back into her welcoming heat. 

"I need to feel you"

A low, throaty moan answered him, her hand coming up to grip the thigh he had hooked over hers. 

"Ahhhh.....Ahhhh....Yyeeeeesssss!" 


Her body was answering for her, melting back against him, her hips meeting his next thrust with a needy roll. The slow, rhythmic slide was exquisite torture. Each time he filled her completely, she could feel every inch of him, a delicious stretch that bordered on unbearable. He slipped his hand under the shirt, palming her breast, his thumb circling a taut nipple as he established a relentless, deep rhythm.


Soon, the slow grind wasn’t enough. A frantic energy took over. He rolled her onto her stomach, the red shirt was discarded, baring her entire back to his gaze. He mounted her, his knees anchoring him on either side of her thighs, his hands gripping her hips, pulling her up onto her knees to meet his thrusts.


The pace turned violent, animalistic. The headboard slammed against the wall with a steady, percussive beat. 


THUD! THUD! THUD! THUD! THUD! THUD!


On the nearby table, a framed photo of herself and her daughter and a small vase shivered and danced with every powerful drive of his hips. Tamanna’s moans turned into sharp, breathy yelps, her face pressed into the mattress. Tears of overwhelming pleasure welled in her eyes, blotting the sheets beneath her. He was so deep. Each piston-like thrust nailed a spot within her that sent white-hot sparks shooting behind her eyelids. She could feel the raw power of him, the way his muscular abdomen slapped against her sweat-slicked skin, the way her own pale buttocks jiggled and reddened with the force of his possession.


She was hurtling toward her peak faster than she thought possible, the coil of pleasure in her core winding to a breaking point. Hemant watched, mesmerized, as the muscles in her back flexed, her skin shimmering with a fine sheen of sweat. God, the sight of her. Completely at his mercy, lost in the pleasure he was giving her. It was the most potent aphrodisiac.


"I’m… I’m cumming!" 

She cried out, her voice cracking as the orgasm detonated within her. Her inner muscles spasmed around him, a rippling, milking contraction that clamped down on his cock like a vice, threatening to pull the very essence from him.


That intense, choking grip was his undoing. With a guttural roar, he drove into her one final, searing time, burying himself to the hilt as his own release crashed over him. His vision whited out as his cock pulsed again and again, filling the condom with a hot, rushing torrent. He collapsed forward, his full weight pressing her into the mattress, his face buried in her hair, their bodies connected in the most intimate way possible as they rode out the shattering climax together.


For a long moment, there was only the sound of their ragged breathing and the faint, residual tremor in their limbs. Slowly, carefully, he softened and slipped out of her. Tamanna groaned softly at the loss of fullness. He tied off the condom and tossed it into the bin with the others, the soft thud a final punctuation mark. He turned back to find her looking over her shoulder at him, her face flushed, her eyes still glistening with tears, her lips swollen. A slow, utterly overwhelmed smile spread across her face, radiant and genuine. Hemant’s heart squeezed. He leaned down, caressing her cheek, and captured her smile with a deep, languid kiss that tasted of sweat and salt and perfect, sated bliss.


"My god....the proposal of anal sex really tempted you Hemant!" Tamanna said hastily.

"No woman........you're just slowly becoming a drug that I am getting addicted to!!!"

Sometime later , they both got up and showered together. After dressing up , Hemant joined Tamanna in the kitchen.

"Btw , I forgot to ask who this.....actress is"

"Oh....its Kriti.....Kriti Sanon"

"Ohhhh....."

"What?"

"Nothing......she is Anjali's favorite actress"

"Great.....I can provide an autograph from her if you want"

"That would be great"

"Is she your favorite too?"

"Not exactly , I was grown in the glory of the evergreen ladies....Ms. Sanon is kind of our generation"

"True , I'll let you know once the photoshoot schedule is set. Expect it in a few weeks"

"Definitely looking forward to it"

"Are you looking forward for the photoshoot or what comes after?"

"Well , the photoshoot is an obligation for you and a surprise gift for Anjali. And what happens after is definitely something I truly need right now!"

"Really? That desperate"

"Not desperation.....gratitude. Knowing that there is someone here who wants to share intimate lives with me.....because lately , my masculinity is being targetted for my failures!"

Tamanna saw the change in his expression as she caressed his face.

"Hemant , listen. You need to stop blaming yourself for something you never did. I understand that heartbreak can be rough , sometimes life plays an unfair trick. Even now for me , I wished I never met Dev so that I can be fully committed to you. But I have to see the plus points in my life as Dev gave me Shraddha. Someday , maybe in the future , I wish I could see Karan and Shraddha as our children and we become one. Because believe me , having you as a husband is a boon not many are fortunate for. Sonarika fumbled with you and its her loss"

"Tammu"

"Please , don't bring yourself down. You are not a lesser man. I am your assurance for that , because you've made me feel things I've never felt in life. Every moment I've spent with you , I've regretted even considering a physical relationship with Sandeep. Sometimes I wished you were there on that voyage of love , I would've screamed your name in that entire boat!"

"Heh....scream my name?"

"Yeah why not. You seem to be thinking of yourself being a very basic man Hemant. But believe me , you're not"

"Is that so?"

"Exactly so. You see , back in college , when I was your secret voyeur , I heard the way Sanju moaned and screamed being with you. Those things built some expectation in me. And then when we did it , those expectations were way low than I thought. Now I think Sanju should've screamed louder"

"You're a little freaky Tammu"

"You haven't seen my freakiness yet. I ll show you on the night at the Mariott. When you will claim my anal virginity!"

"Damn Tammu"

"You see Hemant. This morning , when you did it. As I was laying there on my stomach , feeling all of your weight as you thrusted deep in me. It felt great , made me imagine how it will be on my forbidden door. To hear the sound and feel your hips hitting my ass. It was an out of body experience for me. I really hated the condoms since last night. But I am happy and glad that you were concerned about me and our safety"

"I am glad too Tammu. Because right now , even though there is a lot of people around me. I feel sometimes very lonely. You're the one person that etches that loneliness away. And believe me , I too have thought about it. To give our relationship some meaning. But I am overwhelmed a lot right now. My faith in love is heavily shattered. But if Sona didn't exist , you would've made an incredible wife for me"

"And you an incredible husband if Dev didn't exist. But we are what we are now , and we have each other for now"

"For now"

Both spend some time with each other after which it was time for Hemant to leave for his company commitments. As they separated that morning , both of them were looking forward for their special day they've planned for the future that involved a Mariotte Hotel Suite. 

                                                                                                                                                                                   (CHAPTER TO BE CONTD)

[Harry Jordan]

                                                                                                                                            (CHAPTER CONTD)

FEW HOURS LATER AT AIROLI




The deep growl of the BMW E39 M5 sliced through the Airoli morning like a knife through silk. Its race-green paint shimmered under the sun, the golden eagle crest glinting on the hood. Raquel, in a crisp black suit, parked the car with militant precision and slipped out to open the back door. Hemant Kumar stepped out—not in a stiff boardroom suit but in a dark green buttoned vest over a rich emerald shirt, blazer-cut pants hugging his tall frame, Italian leather gleaming underfoot. He didn’t need a tie. His very walk was authority.



The guards at the glass entrance of RegalCorp straightened unconsciously as Hemant strode past. The receptionist—a young woman with sharp eyeliner and sharper instincts—flushed slightly when he leaned in, lowered his voice, and said. 

"You’ve got the warmest smile in this entire icebox. Dangerous asset" 

She laughed, flustered, as he signed in. The way he owned the space made the polished marble floors seem like his personal runway. Raquel remained outside, scanning the perimeter like a hawk—hand resting casually on the steering wheel but eyes moving constantly. Inside, Hemant pushed through the tall doors of the next floor boardroom. Siddharth Mehta was already standing at the head of the table, sleeves rolled, arrogance woven into every line of his posture. 

"Well" Siddharth said, forcing a smile. 

"Not many walk into my office without an appointment. But you seem to have a flair for breaking patterns"


Hemant smiled—slow, deliberate. 

"Patterns are useful. Until they’re predictable" 

He replied, pulling out the chair opposite Siddharth without waiting to be offered. He sat with a lazy, predatory grace. Siddharth took a second longer than he should have to recover, then chuckled. 

"Congratulations, Hemant. First shipment of Alignment Knots exceeded expectations. RegalCorp is ready for more"

"I appreciate that" Hemant said, folding his hands. 

"But I’m not here just to talk knots. YOD Industries is expanding—security equipment, vaults, high-grade safes. We’re starting operations at a newly acquired warehouse across town" 

Siddharth’s brow furrowed. 

"That warehouse belonged to Dilawar" he said flatly. 

"A dead man’s empire doesn’t simply change hands"

Hemant leaned forward, his voice silk over steel. 

"Oh, but it does when his entire estate was… let’s say… made available to the right bidder. And when the bidder happens to know which Mehta puppet signed off Dilawar’s corporator routes, it’s an easy game" 

Siddharth’s smile faltered. The air tightened. 

"Careful" Siddharth said softly 

"You’re walking a dangerous line" Hemant didn’t blink. 

"I know exactly where the line is. That’s why I’m standing on it"

"I’m not here to compete with you" 

Hemant continued, adjusting his cuff. 

"I’m offering an alliance. Dilawar was a liability. I can be an asset. My networks are disciplined. Clean. Profitable. You and your family want control of this city’s spine? I’ll help you build the nerves around it" 

Siddharth tilted his head, studying him, and then smirked. 

"I heard you bought a private hangar at the new Navi Mumbai Airport. Quite a move for a man who pretends to be just a manufacturer"

"That hangar is for ANVIL" Hemant said calmly. 

"They want secure infrastructure. I provide security to my allies. Family isn’t just blood, Siddharth—it’s who stands with you when everyone else runs. Work with me, and you’ll never have to look over your shoulder again" 

Siddharth chuckled, but it lacked the earlier bite. 

"I’ve only tolerated this sudden rise of yours because of my sister. Pranitha seems… lighter when you’re around. If this ‘friendship’ turns into something more, I’ll be the first to know"

Hemant’s jaw tightened briefly but his eyes stayed warm. 

"Pranitha’s a remarkable woman. I respect her. Whatever path our friendship takes—it’ll be with honor" 

He rose then, slow and controlled. 

"Let this be the beginning of something meaningful. RegalCorp gets cleaner channels, my network gets scale. And if we succeed together, Siddharth…..you can play its king , while I'll be your best advisor"

Siddharth stood too, mirroring the motion almost instinctively. They shook hands, grip firm—two predators sizing each other up while pretending to dance. As Hemant walked out, his footfalls echoed like war drums. Siddharth’s confident smirk dimmed into suspicion. 

'He’s either the best ally I’ll ever have… or the storm that’ll tear this empire apart' 

Siddharth thought. Outside, Raquel revved the M5’s engine. Hemant slipped into the back seat, gaze cold and calculating. The trap had been set—not with threats, but with promises.



A WEEK LATER AT SEWRI



The air at Sewri carried a faint tang of salt, diesel, and fresh paint. Hemant Kumar stepped out of his black SUV, the low hum of its engine dying as his polished shoes touched the concrete. The massive warehouse loomed ahead — once the fortress of Dilawar, a man whose empire had bled the city for years. Now, the metal shutters bore a new emblem: YOD Industries — clean, cold, and authoritative. Hemant walked forward, hands tucked in his coat pockets, a storm calm behind his eyes. Dilawar’s ghost won’t haunt this place anymore, he thought. This belongs to me now.


Inside, the warehouse smelled of steel and ambition. Rows of machines stood idle, freshly installed, gleaming beneath bright halogens. Engineers and security heads straightened the moment they saw him. 

"Sir" one of them greeted. 

"The final shipment of vault alloys is coming tomorrow morning. YOD Security Systems is ready for launch"

Hemant nodded, his voice steady. 

"Good. I want this place functional in less than a week. Dilawar ran contraband through these walls. We’ll run security and technology"

A faint smile crept at the corner of his lips — not of joy, but of power reclaimed.


As they walked deeper into the facility, his lieutenant, Raquel, lowered his tone. 

"Bhaijaan… feels strange seeing this place like this. This place here…"

Hemant cut him off. 

"This place was once blood and bullets. This time, it’s business" 

His gaze hardened as memories flickered — the night Michael King ignited Dilawar's empire down in cold precision, erasing a monster from Mumbai’s underbelly. Michael King lays dormant inside him. Hemant Kumar builds, not destroys. In the center of the warehouse, a sleek black podium held the prototype of the new YOD security lock — a piece of engineering genius modeled from the same tech behind the Alignment Knots that made YOD Industries legendary. He ran a hand across its smooth surface. 

"This" Hemant said to his team, 

"Is the spine of a safer future. If we control the locks, we control the doors to power"

Raquel whistled softly. 

"And to think this was once where they used to cook illegal contraband"

Hemant didn’t answer. But his silence was louder than any boast. A convoy of two black sedans entered the compound. Out stepped a well-dressed government liaison, flanked by security. 

"Mr. Kumar" the man extended a hand. 

"The Home Ministry approves your expansion into defense-grade security equipment. Mumbai could use companies like yours"

Hemant shook his hand with quiet dominance. 

"We don’t just make equipment, Mr. Menon. We build trust. And trust is more expensive than gold"

The man chuckled nervously. Beneath that charm, everyone knew — no one crossed Hemant Kumar and slept soundly. As the meeting concluded, Hemant lingered alone in the shadows of the warehouse, looking at the spot where Dilawar had once chained people to steel columns. The echoes of his old self — the ruthless Michael King — stirred faintly in the corners of his mind. 


Later that afternoon, Hemant drove toward Navi Mumbai International Airport. The private hangar he’d leased was buzzing with movement. Engineers from YOD and operatives from ANVIL were clustered around a massive drone frame — sleek, predatory, and designed for the skies. This wasn’t just business. This was strategy.

Roy Harper was already there, wearing that infuriatingly casual smirk. 

"Damn, Egghead. Every time I see you now, you’re building your own empire"

Hemant smirked back. 

"Empires keep the wolves at bay, Roy"


They walked toward the drone, its alloy skin catching the afternoon light. 

"So this is it" Roy said, tapping the side. 

"A high-altitude, multi-purpose surveillance bird. Looks like something out of a war movie"

Hemant folded his arms. 

"Not war. Control. This drone will watch places where men like Dilawar hid. Where law doesn’t reach. Where we will reach"

Roy gave him a knowing look. 

"That’s Michael talking, not Mr.Kumar"

For a second, the silence was sharp. Then Hemant exhaled slowly. 

"Michael’s buried beneath me. I have evolved him to be my ultimate weapon. And I’ll use his fire to build my empire"


Inside the hangar office, maps of coastal and border zones spread across the table. Roy poured them both coffee. 

"You really have turned your life around" he said, half-proud, half-stunned. 

"YOD Industries was already a giant. Now YOD Security Systems? You’re rewriting the game"

Hemant leaned back. 

"This is just the beginning. Michael King had the tagline of the underworld embedded to him , but Hemant Kumar isn't. Gangsters , Vigilantes , they're all relics of the past…" 

His voice dropped to steel. 

"…But this corporate life , this is the new norm. Besides , it gives a nice cover , because Corporates are the new kingdoms , the CEO's and Owners the new Kings , and I intend to build a legacy where I can be my best self and benefit others....and settle old scores"


Roy’s grin softened into something loyal. 

"You’re going after them, aren’t you? The old guard. The ones left after you left Azerbaijaan"

Hemant met his gaze without flinching. 

"I believed that when I walked away , I was finding a new path. But I let my loved ones's death lay meaningless. I have to avenge them Roy , and for that , I have to erase that bloodline for good!"

Roy leaned in. 

"Everytime you waged a war , the world felt its wrath one way or another. Whatever storm you’re going to create next, you know ANVIL’s got your back. You point, we move"

A rare warmth flickered in Hemant’s chest. 

"My faith in people is still intact Roy , That’s why I am backing ANVIL , so that there is a better order of justice!!"


Outside, the hangar buzzed with activity — a symphony of ambition. As Hemant stepped out, the wind from the runway hit his face, crisp and grounding. In few weeks ,  Sonarika would be leaving to Delhi with Karan and Anjali and then move away to Goa on her new workplace after returning Karan and Anjali back to him, she will never witness his dream house , she will be out of his life, out of their broken promises. But he will still have Karan. He will still have Anjali. He would still have something worth living for. And now, he had an empire to build.


Roy joined him at the doorway, looking at the skyline. 

"What now?"

Hemant smirked, sliding his hands into his coat pockets. 

"Now we build. And we plan out our tactics!"

Roy laughed. 

"God help whoever stands in your way"

Hemant’s eyes hardened like obsidian. 

"God won’t help them. Because God has awakened me to punish them!!"

The engines roared somewhere in the background. For the first time in years, Hemant Kumar didn’t feel like a ghost of Michael King. He felt like the storm itself.


THAT EVENING AT ANDHERI


The evening sun melted over Andheri’s Silver Beach as Hemant Kumar’s vehicle rolled to a stop before his new home — Silver Beach Villa. The villa stood immaculate against the orange horizon, a sculpture of glass, steel, and sorrow. What was meant to be a symbol of his family’s new beginning had now become a monument to everything he’d lost. His dream home was finally complete… and yet, it felt like a tomb. He walked through the marble foyer in silence. The faint echo of his footsteps filled the air, every tap of his shoe reminding him how empty the space was. This was supposed to be their home — his, Sonarika's, and Karan's and Anjali's — a refuge from the chaos of life. Now, it was nothing but a shrine to a marriage that had bled out long before the walls were painted.


Hemant let his fingers trail along the polished wooden railing of the staircase. 

"You got your dream house, Hemant" he whispered bitterly. 

"Shame it’s haunted by someone still alive"


He moved into the living room — vast, open, and facing the sea. The sound of the waves whispered against the glass panels, like distant laughter mocking him. He sat on the couch, staring into the horizon where the sun disappeared into the Arabian Sea. This was supposed to be their view. Now it belonged to him alone. He exhaled, shutting his eyes, letting the silence wrap around him like a cruel embrace. For a moment, he almost drifted into peace.

"Hemant"

His head snapped up. The voice, so familiar, so loved, so resented, echoed in the emptiness. And then she was there. Sonarika. Standing before him, ethereal and devastatingly real. But it was her attire that stole the air from his lungs—the deep red wedding saree, the gold zariwork glinting in the afternoon light. The same one she’d worn when she vowed to be his forever. But her smile was different. Not the joyful beam from their wedding day, but something softer, sadder.


"I’m sorry for hurting you, Hemant" 

She said, her voice a whisper that seemed to come from the walls themselves. 

"But with Vikram… I felt awake. I felt complete in a way I never did with you"

The front door, which he’d locked behind him, swung open silently. Vikram strode in, dressed in a sleek black silk shirt and chinos, a picture of casual arrogance. His warm gaze swept past Hemant as if he were part of the furniture, landing solely on Sonarika. Hemant’s skin crawled. Vikram stepped close to her, too close, and with a tenderness that felt like violence, he swept his thumb across her forehead. The vermillion, the symbol of her marital status, of being his wife, was smeared away. Sonarika’s eyes fluttered closed, a soft sigh escaping her lips, a sound of pure, unadulterated relief. She was being unmade as his.

She turned her tear-filled eyes to Hemant, but they were tears of joy. 

"I’m finally free from your life. I’m ready to be his woman" 

Her hands flew to her neck, grasping the sacred mangalsutra. With a sharp, definitive tug, the black beads and gold pendant snapped. She threw the symbol of their union, and it hit him square in the face.

The world dissolved.

The cool Mumbai sea breeze vanished, replaced by a humid, salty air. The minimalist living room morphed into a sun-drenched bedroom with a familiar Goan vista. Her new life. The realization was a spike of ice in his heart. And there they were. Sonarika, her vermillion and mangalsutra gone. Vikram, now shirtless, his body lean and confident. They stared at each other with the same deep connection he’d seen in those damned photographs, a world of understanding passing between them that Hemant had never been part of.


Then Vikram’s hands were on her face, and he was kissing her. Not a gentle kiss. It was a claiming. And Sonarika… Sonarika kissed him back with a wild, desperate abandon Hemant had never witnessed, her fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. This wasn’t just lust. It was the beginning of something far more intimate, far more devastating. Vikram’s fingers worked deftly, unwrapping her saree’s pallu until it pooled on the floor, leaving her in just a blouse and petticoat. He kissed her with a ferocious hunger, his mouth moving down her neck, nuzzling into the exposed swell of her cleavage. Hemant heard the soft, wet sounds of his lips on her skin. A white-hot rage ignited in his gut. He tried to surge forward, to tear them apart, and only then did he realize—he was tied to a heavy armchair, forced to watch.

"Untie me! I don’t want to be here!" he roared, straining against the bonds.

Sonarika moaned, breaking from Vikram’s kiss, her eyes glazed with desire. 

"You should be here. You need to see… see how a real man makes love to his woman!!!"


Vikram gave a low, dark chuckle, his eyes locking with Hemant’s as his hands went to her blouse. Buttons flew. Then the clasp of her red bra was undone. Her full breasts spilled into his hands, and he lowered his mouth to one peaked nipple, sucking hard, claiming. Hemant had always been so careful, so gentle, believing that was what she cherished. But now, Sonarika wasn’t crying out in pain. She was arching her back, her cries were of pure, unbridled pleasure as he bit and suckled, marking her pale skin with reddened love bites, his saliva making her glisten under the Goa sun. He was erasing Hemant’s gentle touches, replacing them with his own possessive brand. The rest of their clothes became a forgotten heap on the floor. Vikram turned her, his hands firm on her hips, positioning her on her knees on the edge of the bed. He held himself for a moment, the thick length of him pressing against her entrance, and then with one powerful, unforgiving thrust, he was inside her.


Hemant flinched as if he’d been struck. The sound—the wet, solid sound of their joining—echoed in the room. And then they were moving. Vikram’s hips pistoned, setting a ruthless, vigorous rhythm. The bed began to protest, its wooden frame creaking and slamming against the wall in time with their bodies. On a nearby nightstand, a single framed photo of Hemant, Sonarika, and a young Karan shook with every impact.

"Ahhh! Ahh! Yess!, Vicky! You’re the man I wanted!" she screamed, her voice raw. 

"You’re the only one who can make me feel this… make me feel complete!!!"

The sounds of their skin meeting, slap after wet slap, filled Hemant’s world. The ruthless gangster from his youth, long buried, roared to life inside him, screaming for violence, for blood. They shifted. Now she was on top, riding him with a ferocious energy, her head thrown back, her breasts bouncing. Vikram’s hands gripped her ass, guiding her, grinding her down onto him. 

"Can’t wait to do this every day" he grunted, his voice thick. 

"Make this our routine"

And in her ecstasy, Sonarika confessed it all. 

"I want it… I want to be pregnant again. I want to give Karan a sibling"

The words were a knife to Hemant’s soul.

"I’ll give you that" Vikram groaned, his hips bucking up to meet her downward plunge. 

"I’ll give you everything"

He rolled her beneath him, missionary now, and drove into her with a new, profound intensity. This was no longer just fucking. This was a ritual. A transfer of ownership. 

"I love you" he whispered against her mouth.

"I love you too" she cried back, her eyes seeing only him.

"Goa is our beginning. This is where our world grows"

"Yes! Our world!" she chanted, her moans becoming shrill, desperate.

Hemant stopped struggling. The fire in him had condensed into a cold, dense star of hatred. He was just a spectator to his own annihilation. Vikram’s pace became frantic, animalistic. 

"Will you marry me?" he grunted, the words punched out with each thrust.

"Yes! God, yes!"

"We’ll be perfect… have wonderful kids… I’ll give you Karan’s sibling…"

"I need your child… inside me… now…" she begged, pulling him down for a savage kiss.

Vikram’s body went rigid. A guttural, primal groan tore from his throat, a sound of absolute release. At the same moment, Sonarika’s scream peaked, her body bowing off the bed. Hemant’s eyes were drawn, horrifically, to where their bodies were joined. He saw the base of Vikram’s buried dick pulse violently, saw his balls tighten and draw up, the unmistakable,tell-tale sign of his climax. He was claiming her, breeding her, planting his seed deep in the womb that had once carried Hemant’s son. He was making her his, in the most fundamental way possible, right before his eyes.


The rage exploded. Hemant roared, the sound inhuman, and the restraints around his wrists ripped apart as he surged to his feet, ready to kill. He stood, eyes blazing, ready to unleash everything he had buried for years. But before he could take a single step — everything shattered. The sound of breaking glass rang out, and suddenly… he was back. Back in the Silver Beach Villa, alone.


The photo frame from his wedding had fallen, its glass splintered across the floor. The smiling faces of him and Sonarika stared up from the cracked frame — a ghost of what once was.


Hemant dropped to one knee, staring at the fragments. For the first time in a long time, his rage didn’t find a target — only exhaustion. The hallucination had passed, but the truth it revealed still lingered. Deep down, he knew Sonarika’s heart was already gone. He stood, walked toward the door, and whispered to the empty house. 

"I won't let this house to be a monument of my failures.....but rather the legacy of my rise!!"


As he stepped out into the night breeze, the villa stood silent behind him — beautiful, complete, and utterly hollow. For Hemant Kumar, the dream was dead. But somewhere beneath the ruin, a different kind of ambition rose within him.


                                                                                                                                                                                     (TO BE CONTD)

[Harry Jordan]

                                                                                                                                                 (CHAPTER CONTD)

THAT NIGHT



Night had already wrapped Mumbai in its neon haze when Hemant’s vehicle pulled into his apartment building parking lot. The roar of the city dulled behind concrete walls as he stepped out, carrying the weight of his nightmares from the villa. The scent of cool in the air — the kind that reminded him of old beginnings. He exhaled once before heading upstairs.


When he entered the apartment, laughter greeted him. Karan was sprawled on the couch, controller in hand, eyes glued to the television where digital racers tore through city streets. Beside him, Anjali sat cross-legged on the rug, textbooks and medical notes spread around her like a small battlefield. The warmth of the room pulled at something deep inside Hemant — something that still believed in family.


"Papa! You’re home!" 

Karan dropped the controller and ran to him. Hemant smiled, the first genuine one of the day, as he knelt to catch his son in an embrace. “You beat the new level?” he asked, ruffling the boy’s hair.

"Almost! You got the new game, right? The one you promised?"

Hemant pulled the case from his coat pocket with a flourish. 

"Of course. A promise is a promise"

Karan’s cheer echoed through the living room.

Anjali looked up from her notes and smiled. 

"You’re spoiling him, Bhaiya"

He shrugged lightly. 

"He deserves it. Studies treating you well?"

"Barely" she said, rubbing her temples. 

"Pharmacology is trying to kill me, it might try again in the coming year, but I’ll survive"

"You’ll do more than survive" Hemant said, his tone softening. 

"You’ll make a great doctor one day" 

The sincerity in his voice made her smile wider. For a moment, it almost felt like the old days before everything had fallen apart. Karan pulled Hemant to the couch. 

"Come on, Papa, let’s play! I’ll show you how to drift!"

They played for almost an hour — father and son locked in harmless competition, laughing over near misses and virtual crashes. It was a picture of joy, framed by the ordinary. And yet, behind it, something fragile hung — a silence that belonged to Sonarika, who stood by the doorway watching them. She smiled faintly. Watching them together was both balm and punishment. Her therapist had told her that healing began with acceptance — and seeing Hemant happy, even if not with her, was a small victory. She lingered quietly, clutching a cup of tea, before finally saying, 

"Dinner’s ready whenever you both are"


Later that night, when Karan was asleep, the apartment dimmed into a quiet hum. Sonarika sat by the window, moonlight touching her face. Hemant walked past her with his usual restraint, a polite nod and little else. 

"He’ll miss you when you go" he said, his tone even, unreadable.

She looked at him gently. 

"I’ll miss seeing you both together. You’re a wonderful father, Hemant. Goa will feel… emptier without that"

He didn’t meet her eyes. 

"Don’t worry. Soon I won’t have to torture myself seeing your face anymore"

The words hit her like ice. 

"You don’t have to be cruel" she said quietly. 

"I understand your pain. But sometimes the way you talk—"

"It should hurt" he interrupted. 

"Because that’s what you left me with"

She took a breath, steady but trembling. 

"I know. I made a terrible mistake. I’m trying to fix myself… therapy is helping. I know you hate me, and once I leave for Goa, you’ll finally have peace. But Hemant—" 

Her voice cracked slightly. 

"I still love you"

He turned to her then, eyes burning with something darker than anger. 

"You always say that. Until Vikram walks in and you willingly spread your legs. Then love means nothing" 

The venom in his voice came from heartbreak, not hatred. 

"Go to Goa. Build your new life with your man, your new family with him. I’ll make sure Karan visits when he wants to. You won’t hear my complaints. After all , you've already pushed me to a corner and want me to stay a looser in this whole fiasco"

"Don't say that.....I never wanted you to be anything like that" Sonarika said with shaky voice.
 
"And yet here I am. You're walking away , back to his arms , a future full of potential. You will have everything. A millionaire charming man who will give you countless orgasms , you will have a new family , willing to birth his kids. You will still have Karan , Anjali. And me? I will be forced to live in my dream house reminding me of my failures and how much of a loser I am since my wife found a better man to keep herself warm"

"Its not true Hemant , I am not going back to him"

"I don't care. Atleast for now , you going away , will make me feel less tortured and captive in this relationship"

"You do care. Which is why you keep bringing it up"

Hemant looked at her a little taken aback. He didn't expect for her to see through his mockery.

"How can I not? You know , I just went to my new house this evening. And when I was seeing all the finished work and ambience , all it gave me was a reminder that this home was my tomb , the tomb of my marriage. And when I closed my eyes. I saw a nightmare , and that nightmare involved you and your new lover. The way both of you mocked me while doing the most vile things in front of me , it made me realize that the nightmare showed me the mirror. I am the one who looses everything in this scenario. You get to wreck my heart and my life and you're getting rewarded with a new life in a new place with your man!!!"


Sonarika was stunned about how Hemant thinks and at the same time overwhelmed with emotions as tears fell listening to her husband's confession and his turmoil. But then she saw the shift in his demeanor. Him taking over control over his emotional state as Hemant spoke again.


"But don't worry Sonarika. I am not going to sit and take it all like a mockery of my life. Like I did in the past , I am going to mould those mockery and turn it into fuel to my drive to my growth. I will not let your decisions be my legacy. I will move on , move on from your meaningless existence in my life. Atleast with you going to Goa , I will finally get some sort of relief and the motivation to move on from you. So all the best for your perfect life Sonarika. Just make sure our interaction is minimal for the future!"

  
Hemant silently walked away and slept on the bed ignoring her. She looked down, tears welling despite herself. The mockery in his tone wasn’t lost on her, but beneath it she saw the man who was still bleeding. She wanted to reach out, to bridge that distance with warmth, but she knew it would only deepen the wound. 

"I know I have hurt you enough" she whispered. 

"But you're making me fall in love with you all over again Mister!!!"


Sonarika sat still, staring at the moonlight spilling over Karan’s toy car on the floor. Somewhere deep down, she still believed distance might heal what time had shattered. But for now, all that filled the home was the quiet ache of two people who once promised forever — now hoping for a redemption of being together again.



FEW DAYS LATER


The morning sun was a pale gold, rising slowly over the industrial skyline of Mumbai. Hemant Kumar stood inside the main assembly floor of YOD Industries, watching a massive hydraulic frame lower a prototype chassis for a military-grade mobility vehicle. Sparks from welding torches rained in steady rhythm. It was a morning like any other—until Raquel entered. The sound of his shoes echoed against the concrete floor, breaking the hum of machines. His usually composed face was hard, jaw locked. 

"Bhaijaan" Raquel said in a voice that didn’t match the calm morning. 

"We’ve got a problem in Azad Colony"

Hemant slowly turned. No panic. Just a quiet, cold shift in his gaze. He rolled his cuff down, buttoned it, and said. 

"Let’s go"

Outside, the engine of the green BMW M5 E39 growled to life, startling a few workers who had no idea their boss was driving into something far darker than boardroom meetings. As the M5 shot out of the factory gate, the early light struck the Eagle Crest mounted on the hood like a battle standard.


Azad Colony was already a storm when they arrived. Parents crowded the street, voices breaking through the humid air. Mothers in saris clutched photos, fathers barked into phones, kids stared wide-eyed. security officer hadn’t even shown up. When Hemant stepped out, the crowd shifted, as if a pillar had arrived. A desperate father ran to him, grabbed his shirt sleeve. 

"Bhai… they took my daughter. Karim’s brothel in Kamathipura. They are going to destroy her!!!"

Another woman wailed 

"They’re just children!"

Raquel’s voice was a grim knife. 

"Karim’s men are hosting a daylight auction. Buyers from Dubai and Turkey landed this morning. This is big"

Hemant placed a steady hand on the man’s trembling shoulder. 

"Listen to me" His voice was low, smooth as a blade sliding from its sheath. 

"I will bring them home. All of them"

Silence fell on the crowd. For these people, his word was iron.

Raquel filled him in as they walked to the car. 

"Three girls, all from the colony. Went missing just after they left for their institute. Witnesses saw a black Bolero van with tinted glass. It’s Karim Lala’s people. No doubt"

Hemant’s grip on the steering wheel tightened just slightly. 

"Karim Lala?”

"He is a pimp and one of loyalist of Dilawar , his death has made his business difficuilt!" 

Raquel corrected. 

"He used to supply women for Dilawar and Raquel. The brothers were the muscle for his business. He works from a section at Kamathipura , thing is a fortress full of anti-social elements"

He stepped back, already shifting gears in his head. 

"Raquel. Rally our men. Full kit. Its time to test their skills. Full warfare tactics!"

Within minutes, black SUVs rolled up to the Colony’s edge. The men who stepped out weren’t cops or gangsters—they were Hemant’s personal shadows. Ex-military, PMC veterans, ghosts who didn’t ask questions.

"Gear up at our Navi Mumbai hangar" Hemant ordered. 

"We have a bunch of anti-social elements to be neutralized for good. Strategy will be shock and awe. It will bean aerial insertion. Suit up and wait for the plane to arrive. Raquel , I want the drone in the sky for some recon. You lead the initial surveillance"

Raquel gave a single nod. 

"On it, Bhaijaan"

Hemant watched them move out like a trained blade being drawn. Then, without waiting, he slid back behind the wheel and drove. Not to Kamathipura. Not yet. First, he had a promise to keep with himself. The factory where YOD's primary HQ stood quiet, dust drifting through the morning beams. He walked through the silent hallway, past awards and framed newspaper clippings celebrating a man who built machines that reshaped the world. But beyond that—he knew— there was a part of him that ended lives.

The golden eagle statue on his desk gleamed faintly. He pressed its beak like a trigger. The wall behind the desk groaned, gears turning, until it split open like the gates of a hidden temple. An arsenal lay behind it. Rows of polished, deadly tools: Cold War relics reborn with modern precision. Carbines. Rifles. Knives. A stainless steel Smith & Wesson Model 629 .44 Magnum revolver with a chrome handle sat in its cradle like a silver beast.

But what stood in the center was something older. Darker.

The Inquisitor.

The blade leaned on its stand like it had been waiting for him to return.

His hand hovered over it. Hemant Kumar had kept Michael King on standby , a phantom that laid dormant and fed the success of Hemant Kumar—the phantom of blood and vengeance that once haunted the streets of London, Azarbaijaan and Shanghai. Michael was not just a storm , he was a calamity. Michael was fear itself.

And now, Karim’s people had touched the wrong children.

He wrapped his fingers around the sword’s crown-shaped hilt. The runes shimmered faintly under the sunbeams sneaking into the room.

As he lifted the blade, the Garuda ring—Anjali’s gift—caught the light, burning gold. On the other finger, the silver Archangel ring glimmered in sunlight like a quiet omen. The past and present met in the grip of that blade.

The air itself seemed to shift, the weight of the morning no longer gentle but heavy with coming violence.

He crossed the room and opened the matte-black gear locker. Out came the reinforced vest, black tactical coat, leather gloves, and combat boots polished not for ceremony—but war. Each buckle, each strap felt like closing a door on Hemant Kumar and reviving something older.

Raquel’s voice crackled through the comm in his ear. 

"Bhaijaan. Drones confirm location. Karim’s base is set. Two dozen men. Heavy guard. Girls are alive. Buyers arrive in one hour"

Hemant’s tone was calm, but it chilled the air. 

"Operation's a go , the plane will arrive in 15 minutes"

He holstered the revolver under his coat. The Inquisitor slid across his back with a soft, metallic whisper. He adjusted his gloves, pulled the hood over his head, and looked at his reflection in the steel locker door.

Hemant was gone.

Michael King was standing there.

"Let’s give the devil a reason to remember me" he whispered.

The sound of rotors began to grow distant outside as the men looked out of the hangar to see a Grey Cessna 206 taxing to the hangar. The men were confused as a mysterious man walked out wearing the same gear they had as he said.

"You boys ready....lets get going.....we're on the clock!"

Kamathipura was waiting, and Michael King had no mercy to offer. Karim Lala thought he was getting even for the death of his trusted ally. But little did he knew , he has awakened the same storm that dismantles Dilawar and Rafique's empire down!


The morning haze over Kamathipura shimmered faintly as the heat began to rise from the streets. Raquel sat in an old black pickup truck a block away from Karim Lala’s domain. His eyes scanned the brothel’s front gate through polarized glasses. Two heavy steel doors. Watchtowers rigged with floodlights. And outside, gleaming under the weak sun, a collection of imported SUVs and luxury sedans—silent proof of the “big money” guests already inside. Raquel pressed his comms. 

"Command, eyes on the target. The main entrance is crawling with guards. And the rumors are true—buyers from Dubai and Turkey. I count at least eight high-end cars inside"

Back at YOD Industries HQ, Kamya and Vaibhav sat before glowing monitors in the Control Room. Vaibhav maneuvered the drone, its shadow gliding over tin rooftops. Kamya toggled on the x-ray scanner. 

"I’ve got fifty heat signatures inside" she said. 

"Looks like a small army"

"Switch to thermal" Raquel ordered.

Kamya flipped the view. Red silhouettes flared against the black. 

"Thirty armed. Mostly with country pistols and shotguns. Nothing exotic, but plenty of bodies"

Raquel smirked. 

"Thirty armed. That’s thirty coffins"

In the sky, the soft drone of propellers grew louder. A gray Cessna 206 cut through the morning clouds, heading straight for the slum labyrinth. Inside, Hemant’s black-ops team sat in silence—faces hidden behind tactical masks, Vector R4 rifles resting across armored vests embossed with the Eagle sigil.

"Green light" Raquel’s voice came through. 

"Drop zone is clear"

The rear hatch opened. Wind roared in. One by one, the men jumped, parachutes blooming like ghostly wings against the sky. They cut through the rising sun, shadows descending toward hell. Raquel climbed up a nearby building, his boots grinding against the concrete as he reached the rooftop. He unzipped the long case he’d carried and assembled the CheyTac Intervention sniper rifle—the same one he used to put down Dilawar’s lieutenants. He lay prone, chambered a round, and whispered. 

"Overwatch in position"

The mercenaries landed with soft precision on the brothel’s roof. Two rooftop guards smoked carelessly by a rusted water tank. They never heard the silenced shots that dropped them. Inside, below the corrugated roof, chaos had its own rhythm. Dozens of men were packed around an indoor fighting pit, laughing, drinking, smoking. A filthy stage rose at the center. Karim Lala strutted onto it, gold rings flashing, cigar between his teeth. A cheer went up.

A giant music system was being played , humming a vintage song from the classic film Mohra named Tu Cheez Badi Hain Mast Mast.

"Gentlemen!" Karim’s voice boomed through the cheap loudspeakers. 

"Today, I bring you fresh quality—untouched and priceless!"

His goons dragged out the kidnapped girls, still in their uniforms. Their faces were red and swollen from crying. The crowd howled like animals. Karim cracked a grin, making vile remarks about their age, their worth, their “purity.”

"Let the bidding begin!" he barked.

Numbers flew. A heavyset man in a keffiyeh raised his hand with a smug grin. He outbid them all. The room broke into applause.

The girl screamed. 

"Maa! Maa, help!"

Then the ceiling opened.

The rafters came alive with shadows. Hemant’s men rappelled down with rifles spitting suppressed bursts. Lookouts were taken out before they even turned their heads. The first henchman to die didn’t even hit the floor before the next one followed. Panic erupted. Karim’s men scrambled for guns, but Hemant’s mercenaries moved like a black tide—precise, surgical, merciless.

From the rooftop, Raquel’s scope followed every twitch of muscle. Crack. A henchman’s skull painted the back wall. Crack. Another’s shotgun clattered to the floor, his body folding backward like paper. One by one, they fell. By the time the mercs controlled the rafters, half the room was dead or disarmed. The remaining henchmen huddled in confusion, buyers ducking behind crates.

Karim Lala’s face twisted from arrogance to fear. 

"KAUN HAI WOH!!!! (WHO IS HE!!!)" he screamed. 

"USS AADMI KO DHONDOO!!! (FIND THE MAN BEHIND THIS?!)"

A young girl—the third one in the line—lifted her tear-streaked face. Her voice shook but carried.

"Aadmi Nahin! (It’s not a man)…" she said. 



"Toofan!!!! (It’s a storm)"



Just then , one of Hemant's man came near the music system , turned off the old music and plugged his phone to play Toofan song from KGF 2.

Then the main door exploded open.

Samandar Mein Lehar Uthi Hain Ziddi Ziddi Hain Toofan!



(Waves Have Risen In The Sea By This Stubborn Stubborn Storm!)



Sunlight poured through like a blade. Hemant stepped in, wearing his black tactical coat, leather gloves, reinforced vest, and boots that echoed like a war drum against the floor. The room fell into a stillness thick enough to choke on.

Chattanein Bhi Kaap Rahin Hain Ziddi Ziddi Hain Toofan!



(Even The Mountains Are Trembling By This Stubborn Stubborn Storm!)


Behind him, the faint gleam of the Inquisitor (Hemant’s sword) caught the sun—an old blade with a crown-shaped hilt, whispering of legends best left buried. He didn’t walk like a man on a mission. He walked like Judgment itself.

He lifted his hand and gave a silent signal. His men lowered their rifles.

Ziddi Hain.....Ziddi Hai.....Ziddi Hain!



(Stubborn.....So Stubborn!)


"KILL HIM!" Karim roared in anger and panic.

The remaining goons rushed.

As the Toofan song reverbrated from the music system , it set the stage for another mayhem for the revived Michael King. The Inquisitor flashed from its sheath like a predator set loose. The first man who charged lost his arm before he understood what was happening. The second met the flat of the blade, which sent him crashing into a wall. The third tried to fire—Hemant twisted, deflected, and opened him up from shoulder to hip in one fluid motion.

Michael King was awake.

The blade moved like it wasn’t bound by earthly weight—cutting, spinning, dancing through flesh. Screams mixed with the clash of steel. Blood streaked the concrete floor. Bodies piled up in an orderly line of death. No street-trained thug could match his years of war. His strikes were clean, deliberate—every movement from a mind that had mapped this dance long ago in darker places. Karim’s empire collapsed in minutes.

When the last henchman hit the ground, only Karim and the foreign buyers remained. Hemant advanced, boots splashing in blood. One of the buyers tried to speak—he never finished. Hemant swung the Inquisitor in a single, perfect arc. The man’s head rolled onto the bidding table. Karim backed away, eyes wide, gold rings shaking. 

"You.....killed Dilawar" he stammered. 

"He was like a brother—"

Hemant tilted his head slightly. His voice was quiet. 

"Then let me send you to him!"

The blade slid into Karim’s gut with surgical precision. Karim’s scream tore through the emptying hall as Hemant twisted the blade, then let the man drop like the trash he was.

"Free them all" Hemant ordered, voice cold.

His men moved immediately—chains were cut, doors kicked open, girls ushered out with soft hands and steady words. The older women imprisoned there sobbed as they saw the eagle sigil and realized their nightmare was over.

Raquel descended from the rooftop, boots crunching on spent shells. He looked around at the red-painted floor and the mountain of dead men. 

"Bhaijaan" he muttered.

"What’s next?" He asked.

Hemant wiped the blade clean on Karim’s expensive sherwani. 

"We erase this place"

Raquel nodded and signaled. Several mercenaries rolled in gas cylinders from the kitchen, smashing open valves. Others doused the brothel in petrol and kerosene, moving with military precision. Outside, the girls were being escorted into waiting vans, away from the inferno to come. Hemant stood alone in the doorway where he had first appeared, Inquisitor hanging at his side. He looked back one last time at the sea of steel cylinders lying across the floor. Then he picked up a shotgun dropped by a dead henchman.

Click.

One pull of the trigger.

The world behind him erupted.

A column of fire tore through Karim’s domain, the shockwave shattering nearby windows. The explosion consumed every trace of the trafficking den, sending a dark plume high into the morning sky. The explosions tremors were felt across the city as the fire cloud formed was massive and visible through kilometers.

Hemant didn’t flinch. He walked away as fire ate the final remnants of Dilawar's empire , erasing his existence for good, his boots crunching on broken glass. Behind him, Michael King’s storm faded back into silence—until the next time he’d be called.

The promise was fulfilled. Azad Colony’s daughters were going home. And a portion of Kamathipura was burning.


The flames of Kamathipura still painted the far horizon with a faint orange smear when Hemant Kumar’s green BMW M5 E39 rolled back into Azad Colony. The streets that had been a cradle of grief that morning were now alive with voices, laughter, and tears of joy. Mothers ran barefoot into the street, fathers stumbled forward with trembling hands, and young girls—still shaken, but alive—were stepping down from YOD transport vans wrapped in blankets, led gently by Hemant’s men.

The crowd parted as Hemant stepped out of his car. He was still wearing the black tactical coat, though the collar was turned up to hide the blood at the edge of his sleeve. His face carried no triumph—only a quiet exhaustion, the weight of a man who had seen what he had to become to keep his word.

The first father to see him broke into tears and dropped to his knees, clutching Hemant’s hand. 

"Sir… you brought her back" he said, voice cracking. 

"You brought my girl back" Behind him, his daughter sobbed in her mother’s arms, whispering. 

"He came, Ma… he came to save us!"

Another woman stepped forward, her palms pressed together. 

"Kumar Saab, we will never forget this day" she said, eyes shining. 

"You didn’t just save them. You saved all of our honor. We will always stand by you. Azad Colony is your kingdom!"

A chorus followed—men and women speaking over each other, voices trembling but strong. 

"You’re our protector!" 

"Our brother!" 

"Our King!"

The term king bothered him. It brought that twinge of nightmare back in him. He had people who trusted him in the past and then they all perished and he couldn't save them. Hemant raised a hand, motioning for calm. 

"I am not a king.....and you all don’t owe me anything" he said quietly. 

"What you owe is to yourselves—to never bow again. To no man. To no monster" 

His gaze swept the Colony, the place he had once liberated from Dilawar’s chains. 

"Azad Colony stays free because you fight to keep it that way. I am just here as a support"

The people nodded, still weeping, still clinging to their children.

Raquel approached from behind, his usual sharp smirk softened. 

"You did it again, Bhaijaan" he said, voice low. 

"Perhaps you should accept that not everything about your past is a pain!"

Hemant exhaled slowly, eyes tracing the faces around him—mothers whispering prayers, fathers holding daughters as if afraid to let go. 

"No" he murmured. 

"I can't Raquel.....because everytime I try...it brings the memories of loss with it and I cannot bear it anymore!"

As the noise faded around him, his mind drifted. For a moment, he wasn’t standing in the middle of the street surrounded by gratitude—he was back in the empty silence of his home. The echo of Sonarika’s voice still lingered in his memory, the bitterness of their last argument, the cold distance that had become their routine.

Not so long ago victory felt hollow. When every battle he won left him more alone because of the situation in his house. But now, watching the fathers lift their daughters high into the air, hearing the laughter break through the scars of the morning—he felt something different. Something pure.

It wasn’t redemption. It was purpose.

Maybe his marriage was falling apart. Maybe the home he built in love had become a cage of silence. But this—this sight of Azad Colony reborn—was proof that his fight still meant something. That he could still protect, still build, still give others what he could not keep for himself.

Raquel stood beside him, arms folded. 

"They’ll remember this day for generations" he said.

Hemant’s eyes stayed on the people. 

"They shouldn’t remember me" he said. 

"They should remember that they were never helpless"

A small girl, no older than nine, ran up to him suddenly. She held a small paper flower, crushed slightly from her grip, and pressed it into his palm. 

"For you, Uncle" she said, smiling. 

"Thank you for saving us"

For the first time that day, Hemant’s lips curved—not quite a smile, but close enough to one. He crouched and brushed her hair back gently. 

"Be strong" he said. 

"Always"

The child nodded and ran back to her mother.

Raquel caught the look in Hemant’s eyes—half fire, half ache. 

"You know" he said quietly. 

"Maybe you can’t fix everything, Bhaijaan. But you still make the world better one street at a time"

Hemant looked toward the rising sun over Mumbai’s skyline. 

"That’s enough for now" he said simply. 

"That’s enough"

As he turned to leave, the Colony erupted again with cheers, chants of his name echoing through the narrow lanes. He didn’t stop to bask in it. He simply walked back to his car, the day wind carrying the faint smell of burning smoke from the ruins of Kamathipura.

Behind him, families were whole again.

Ahead of him, his factory awaited—another day, another mask to wear.

But deep inside, where the identities of Hemant Kumar and Michael King switched accordingly, a quiet peace lingered. For all the fire and blood he carried, he had still kept one promise that mattered.

And in that promise, he found a sliver of light strong enough to keep the darkness at bay.

                                                                                                                                                                                                   (TO BE CONTD)

[Harry Jordan]

                                                                                                                                                            (CHAPTER CONTD)

FEW DAYS LATER AT THE APARTMENT



It was a quiet Monday morning at the apartment. The city outside was waking up with the morning’s traffic, and inside, Sonarika was sorting through files before heading to her office. The apartment smelled faintly of brewed coffee and sandalwood. She had just tied her hair into a neat bun when the doorbell rang.

She opened the door, half expecting the delivery boy.

But standing there was a young woman with a suitcase. She had a calm face, hair loosely tied, wearing a crisp white shirt and faded jeans. There was a hint of nervousness in her eyes but also something quietly self-assured.


"Um… yes?" Sonarika asked, tilting her head.

The girl blinked, then spoke softly. 

"I’m sorry, ma’am. This is the residence of Mr. Hemant Kumar, right?"

Sonarika frowned. 

"Yes. And you are?"

The girl hesitated. 

"I—uh—I’m Tara. I’m here for my… service and work"

"Work?" Sonarika echoed, her tone sharpening slightly. 

"I think you’ve come to the wrong address"

Before Tara could stammer a reply, a deep voice came from down the hallway. 

"It’s alright, Sonarika. She’s here for me"

Hemant appeared from the study, sleeves rolled up, hair still damp from his morning shower. His presence filled the room, as it always did. 

"Come in, Tara" he said. 

"We were expecting you"

Sonarika stepped aside, confusion flickering in her eyes as Tara wheeled her suitcase into the living room. A few minutes later, the family gathered near the sofa. Karan was at the table, his institutebag still open, and Anjali leaned casually against the wall, sipping tea.

Hemant gestured toward the young woman. 

"This is Tara" he said. 

"She’ll be staying with us for a while. She’s going to help manage the house, and she’ll also be tutoring Karan in his studies"

Tara offered a polite smile and joined her hands. 

"Namaste"

Karan looked up from his phone, curious. 

"You’re going to teach me?"

Tara chuckled softly. 

"Only if you promise not to run away when I give you homework"

That made Anjali laugh. 

"Good luck with that" she said. 

"He’s a master of excuses"

The small moment of warmth settled awkwardly between them, light but hesitant. Sonarika watched quietly, the polite smile on her face not reaching her eyes. As Karan showed Tara around the living room, Sonarika touched Hemant’s arm. 

"A word?"

They stepped aside to the hallway. Her tone, once polite, hardened into restraint. 

"Since when do we need a househelp, Hemant? You could’ve at least discussed this with me"

Hemant met her gaze steadily. 

"Sonarika, once the villa is ready and you leave for your assignment, I’ll need someone to manage things. You know I’m rarely home. Tara will help keep the place running"

"So this is about the villa?" she said, arms folding across her chest. 

"And you didn’t even think to tell me you’ve already hired someone?"

"I didn’t think I needed to" Hemant said quietly. 

"You made it clear you’re moving on with your life. I’m just learning to do the same"

The words hit her harder than she expected. For years, Hemant had always shared decisions—every house repair, every new hire, every little thing that involved their family. This time, he hadn’t.

She took a slow breath. 

"Who exactly is she?"

Hemant’s tone remained professional. 

"Tara was recommended through YOD’s welfare network. She’s a trained medical practitioner. Once we shift to the villa, she’ll set up a small clinic in the corner annex. It’ll help the local workers and nearby families. Until then, she’ll stay here—in the guest room"

Sonarika looked toward the living room again, where Tara now knelt beside Karan, showing him something from a workbook. Her posture was confident, her tone gentle. Tara looked young—early twenties, maybe. Her energy was fresh, unfiltered, a kind of quiet boldness that came naturally. There was no makeup, no jewelry, just that effortless ease that comes with youth.

Something inside Sonarika tightened.

It wasn’t anger. Not quite. It was the quiet sting of realizing another woman would soon share space with the man she once called her own—the man she was still legally married to.

"So she’s living here now" Sonarika said slowly.

"For now" Hemant replied. 

"She knows about the villa, and she is on board regarding the house surprise for Karan and Anjali as I wanted"

Sonarika nodded mechanically, her thoughts already spinning. 

"Surprise" she repeated under her breath. 

"You’re full of surprises lately, Hemant"

He didn’t answer. He simply adjusted his sleeve and mocked back. 

"That is really ironic coming from you. Because none of my surprises can match what you've surprised me with!"

She stared at him for a second longer, trying to find the trace of the man who once told her everything, who once needed her in every decision. But now—there was a distance. Not anger, not coldness, just… detachment.

When she finally left, she glanced back once more.

Through the half-open door, she saw Tara laughing lightly as Karan teased her about math homework. Anjali was smiling too, showing her the layout of the flat. And in the corner, Hemant stood by the window, arms crossed, silent but watching, that old protective calm about him.

The sight twisted something in Sonarika’s chest.

As the elevator doors closed, her reflection stared back at her—perfect makeup, elegant poise, and eyes clouded with something she didn’t want to name.

Jealousy.


Or maybe loss.

Either way, the arrival of Tara had shifted something in the quiet equilibrium of their lives.

And as the city roared awake below, Sonarika knew one thing for certain—Hemant was moving on. And for the first time, she realized how much that terrified her.



THAT NOON AT TANISHQ CORPORATE BUILDING CAFE



It was late afternoon at the Business Complex of TANISHQ, the glass towers reflecting the fading sunlight like mirrors of molten gold. Inside the bustling corridors, executives moved briskly, carrying their ambitions in leather folders and the faint smell of coffee. Sonarika walked out of her office at TANISHQ, exhaustion softening her usually sharp poise. The past few months had been relentless—balancing her work, therapy sessions , prep work for VATIKA Research Center, and the emotional weight of a divorce in progress. The cooling period was going through, but the ache still lingered.

As she stepped into the shared lounge on the 4th floor, she noticed a familiar face at one of the tables, scrolling through her phone with that same air of sly confidence. 

Meghna looked up, her lips curving into a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. 

"Well, look who finally decided to emerge from her corporate cave"

Sonarika managed a small smile. 

"Meghna, I thought you never preferred this place"

"I like the coffee here" Meghna said, motioning toward the chair opposite hers. 

"And the gossip’s always fresher when you’re around"

Sonarika sighed but sat down. It had been a while since they spoke properly , especially since her reveal of moving to Goa , Sonarika had doubts about her best friends , doubts that have started to question each moment she shared with her since childhood.

"So" Meghna said, resting her chin on her hand. 

"You look... off. What’s bothering you this time? Therapy fatigue? Divorce drama? Or is it the Goa transfer Ragini keeps bragging about?"

Sonarika frowned. 

"You’ve been talking to Ragini?"

"Of course I have. She’s practically your guardian angel these days" 

Meghna said, voice dripping with sarcasm. 

"Always hovering around you, preaching about healing and self-forgiveness. It’s adorable, really"

Sonarika exhaled quietly. 

"Ragini’s been a good friend, Meghna. She showed me a path when everything darkened for me. She introduced me to Sreelekha Naik and helped me get the position at VATIKA Botanical Research Center. It’s a fresh start I… desperately need"

Meghna leaned back, her eyes narrowing slightly. 

"And leaving Mumbai, leaving Hemant—just like that?"

Sonarika hesitated before replying. 

"Hemant and I are done. We’re just… waiting out the period. There’s nothing left to fight for"

Meghna tilted her head, studying her. 

"You sound calm. Too calm. That usually means something just rattled you"

Sonarika looked down at her cup. 

"It’s nothing"

"Oh, come on" Meghna said, leaning closer. 

"I’ve known you long enough to spot when something’s chewing your mind. Spill it"

After a pause, Sonarika muttered. 

"Hemant’s brought someone new into the house"

"A someone?" Meghna’s eyes lit with curiosity.

"A woman" Sonarika said. 

"Her name’s Tara. He said she’s a house assistant and tutor for Karan. But…"

"But?" Meghna’s smirk sharpened.

"She’s young" Sonarika admitted reluctantly. 

"Beautiful, too. And she’s living in the apartment now"

Meghna chuckled, low and venomous. 

"Oh, Sonarika. You really are naïve sometimes. The man’s not wasting any time, is he? Brings home a young woman just when you’re walking out the door. Classic"

"It’s not like that" Sonarika said quickly. 

"Hemant isn’t—he’s not that kind of man"

"Not that kind of man?" Meghna echoed, feigning disbelief. 

"Every man’s that kind once the marriage ends. You think he’s keeping her there just to fold laundry and tutor your son? Please"

"Stop it" Sonarika said sharply. 

"You don’t know him"

"Oh, I know men" Meghna replied smoothly, crossing her legs. 

"And I know what a lonely man with power and a bleeding ego looks for. Especially after being cheated on"

That last jab hit its mark. Sonarika’s throat tightened.

"I was the one who ruined it" Sonarika said quietly. 

"Hemant didn’t deserve what I did. I was the one who sought Vikram. I was the one who broke us"

Meghna’s smirk faded, replaced with a mock-sympathetic tilt of her head. 

"You keep saying that like some confessional mantra. But let’s be honest—you went to Vikram because Hemant couldn’t give you what you needed. Emotionally. Physically. Otherwise"

"You’re wrong" Sonarika said firmly. 

"Hemant gave me everything. Stability. Kindness. But I… I was reckless. And foolish"

"Reckless?" Meghna’s tone dripped with amusement. 

"That’s one way to describe passion"

Sonarika shook her head, eyes glistening faintly. 

"There’s no passion in betrayal. There’s only regret"

For a moment, Meghna’s expression hardened, the playful mask cracking ever so slightly. Something bitter flashed behind her eyes—an emotion older and deeper than mockery.

"So you’re running off to Goa to play the saint?" Meghna said finally. 

"Pushing away a man who actually loves you—Vikram—while your husband plays house with a younger woman. That’s rich"

"Vikram deserves better" Sonarika replied. 

"But he knew I was married. And he still chased me anyway. I can’t pretend that was love—it was escape. And now I see that"

Meghna leaned in, her voice soft but sharp. 

"You’re punishing yourself for something you both wanted. You’re letting Ragini and her moral sermons brainwash you into becoming some self-sacrificing saint. You don’t owe anyone redemption, Sonarika"

Sonarika looked up at her, meeting her gaze with quiet resolve. 

"Maybe not. But I owe it to myself to be better"

There was silence between them for a long moment.

Then Meghna smiled—cold and cutting. 

"Well, I hope this new version of you enjoys her plants and peace in Goa. But before you go, you should know something"

Sonarika raised a brow. 

"What?"

"Vikram’s coming to your send-off party" 

Meghna said casually, stirring her coffee. 

"Mirror News is co-hosting with TANISHQ this weekend. He’ll be there"

Sonarika’s tone was neutral. 

"He’s welcome to come. As a friend"

Meghna’s smile twitched. 

"A friend. Of course"

When Sonarika stood up to leave, Meghna’s gaze followed her, eyes darkening like storm clouds gathering over still water. As the glass doors of the lounge shut behind Sonarika, the journalist’s nails tapped rhythmically on the table—slow, deliberate.

"Always the righteous one now" she murmured under her breath. 

"But we’ll see how long that halo lasts, little sister"

Her lips curled into a vengeful smirk.

Because in Meghna’s mind, Ragini had stolen her victory, Sonarika had stolen her peace, and her world—the one she planned to break—was still standing.

Not for long.

The quiet war in Sonarika’s life had only just begun.

The afternoon sunlight poured into the TANISHQ Corporate Headquarters through tall glass windows, scattering golden shards across the marble floor. The boardroom buzzed with quiet conversations as Sonarika stood near the projector screen, surrounded by familiar faces — colleagues, mentors, and her senior management team.

It was her final week at the company. Ten years of dedication, creativity, and leadership had earned her a reputation as one of TANISHQ’s most dependable strategists. Her seniors had gathered to discuss her farewell celebration.

"Sonarika" said Mr. Bhattacharya, the chairman, his smile warm but tinged with nostalgia. 

"You’ve given this company your best years. We’re proud — not just of your work, but your grace through everything you’ve endured. So, we’re organizing something special. A farewell that matches the decade you’ve given us"

The others nodded in agreement, clapping lightly.

"We’ll make it memorable" said Aparna, her new immediate superior. 

"Music, speeches, everything. And it would be extra special if your husband, the Hemant Kumar, joined us as our chief guest. It’s not every day we get to host one of the country’s fastest-rising industrialists"

Sonarika froze, the smile on her lips faltering for a split second. 

"Hemant?"

"Yes!" Bhattacharya said cheerfully. 

"It would be an honor if he could say a few words about your journey — as a colleague, a partner, a woman who stood beside him in his earlier days"

She hesitated. 

"Sir, Hemant’s… a very busy man. I’m not sure he’d—"

"Oh, come now" Aparna interrupted gently. 

"A woman of your stature deserves a proper send-off. And if your husband’s presence can make it grander, all the better. Please, Sonarika, at least try"

Their insistence was kind but firm. Sonarika eventually nodded. 

"Alright. I’ll ask him"

Ever since the beginning , Sonarika had never seen where Hemant worked. Back when he was employed at Quadron, he was just a man with a humble salary, modest dreams, and fierce determination. But now, he ran YOD Industries, a defense powerhouse that had made headlines in the city.

Driving through the outer perimeter of vacant side of the Mumbai port, she followed the directions until the massive steel gates of YOD INDUSTRIES HQ came into view.

Her breath caught.

The entrance was lined with security checkpoints, surveillance drones, and guards in tactical gear. The gate itself bore the golden insignia of YOD Industries — Hemant’s mark of leadership.

As her car passed the checkpoint, the scanner lights flickered blue, and the gates slowly opened.

Inside, Sonarika was stunned.

The once-abandoned dockyard she remembered from Anjali’s old photos had transformed into a futuristic manufacturing complex — sleek steel structures, automated cranes, robotic arms assembling armored vehicles, and drones hovering along rails. Soldiers from the Indian Army were supervising the loading of weaponized ATVs into massive covered trucks.

For a brief moment, she forgot to breathe.

Her husband — the same man who once worked late hours fixing code bugs on a second-hand laptop — now commanded an empire.

She parked her car and entered the HQ’s main building. Engineers in black uniforms moved briskly, monitors displayed blueprints of advanced defense tech, and the air hummed with industry.

A young woman in a YOD lanyard approached her with a surprised smile.

"Mrs. Kumar?"

Sonarika turned. The woman was Kamya, one of Hemant’s software engineers.

"I’m here to meet Hemant"

"Oh! He’s at the Trial Bay right now. We’re testing the new rotary cannon prototype" 

Kamya said enthusiastically. 

"Come with me — I’ll take you there"

Sonarika followed her through long glass corridors until they reached a reinforced observation cabin overlooking the test range.

"Please wait inside, ma’am" Kamya said. 

"It’ll be loud out there"

Through the glass, Sonarika saw him.

Hemant stood beside army officials and engineers — earplugs in, his expression focused. The cannon before them was massive, the Raptor-8 Gatling Gun, its barrels gleaming in the sunlight.

The test began.

When the trigger was pulled, the weapon unleashed a roar that shook even the soundproof cabin. The barrels spun in fury, discharging a torrent of thunder. The cabin’s glass quivered with the shockwave.

Yet Hemant stood unmoved, giving instructions amid the chaos — confident, commanding, magnetic.

When the trial ended, the engineers applauded. Hemant removed his earplugs, shared a few notes with his team, and then — as if sensing her — looked up toward the cabin.

Their eyes met.

His surprise was unmistakable.

Moments later, he walked in, his presence still charged from the field. 

"Sonarika?" he said evenly. 

"What are you doing here?"

"I needed to talk" she replied softly.

He gestured for her to follow. On the way, Raghav, one of his engineers, approached him.

"Sir, BTR’s first test run was a success"

"Good" Hemant said briskly. 

"We’ll schedule the full-range test next week"

As they walked through the upper deck, Sonarika was mesmerized by the technological marvel around her — robotic assembly lines, 3D printers shaping alloy armor, workers and machines moving in perfect rhythm.

Then Kamya returned, carrying a tablet. 

"Sir, the payment from the last two alignment knot buyers has cleared. Profit margins just went up by eight percent"

"Finalize the digital schematics for the BTR" Hemant said. 

"We’ll integrate them before the next phase"

"Yes, sir"

Finally, they entered his cabin.

It was spacious but severe — black steel furniture, holographic projectors, and a panoramic window overlooking the factory and the lobby outskirts. On the walls hung certificates and awards of YOD’s achievements.

But what caught Sonarika’s eye was the glass case holding Hemant’s old military uniform, perfectly preserved. Next to it, family photos — Anjali, Karan, even one from their old Pondicherry trip.

Only, in that picture, she had been cropped out.

A quiet ache settled in her chest.

Hemant broke the silence first. 

"So, you’ve finally come to see my world"

She smiled faintly. 

"It’s… incredible. You’ve built something extraordinary, Hemant. I’m proud of you"

He gave a low chuckle — but it carried an edge. 

"Took you long enough to notice. Maybe if I’d worked this hard on the bed instead of in factories, you’d have noticed sooner"

Sonarika flinched slightly but didn’t respond. She understood the bitterness behind his words — the kind that grows only from heartbreak.

"I came because my company’s hosting a send-off party" she said calmly. 

"They want you to attend — as a special guest. To say a few words"

He raised a brow. 

"Because I’m your husband?"

"Because you’re a rising industrial sensation" she replied.

His lips curled faintly. 

"Will Vikram be there?"

"Yes" she said firmly. 

"Along with Meghna, Mouni, and Ragini"

He gave a short, cynical laugh. 

"Ah. Maybe another dance performance? Like the one where it all started?"

Her jaw tightened. 

"It started much later, Hemant. You know that"

"Maybe" he said coldly. 

"But the seeds were there"

Silence filled the space between them, heavy with memories neither could bear to voice.

After a moment, he sighed. 

"I’m not sure I can come. I have work — deadlines, meetings—"

"I understand" she interrupted gently. 

"You don’t owe me that. I just thought… it would mean something to them. And a lot more to me"

She turned to leave.

"Sonarika" he called after her.

She paused.

He looked at her — tired, guarded, yet not entirely without warmth.

She smiled faintly. 

"I was late in seeing what you’ve become, Hemant. But I see it now. You’ve built something far greater than any of us imagined. I wish I could’ve seen this version of you… when we still had a chance"

And with that, she walked out.

Hemant watched her go — the soft click of her heels fading into the hum of his empire.

For a long while, he sat in silence, eyes lingering on the cropped Pondicherry photograph. His jaw clenched, the old ache in his chest rising once again.

Somewhere deep inside, beneath the armor of success and rage, a part of him still whispered — She’s leaving. For good this time.

And yet, as Sonarika walked down the steel corridor outside, her own heart trembled with a bittersweet calm

She had seen the best of him — too late — but at least now, she knew he would be alright.

Even if they could never be again.

                                                                                                                                                                       (TO BE CONTD)

[Harry Jordan]

                                                                                                                                                                                    (CHAPTER CONTD)

AT THE SAME TIME AT A RESTAURANT IN MUMBAI



They chose a corner table beneath a soft lamp, the restaurant’s polite clatter folding around them like a distant ocean. Meghna watched Vikram as if cataloguing damage: the slump at his shoulders, the dullness around his eyes, the way his laugh had been replaced by a brittle quiet. She stirred her tea slowly, every movement practiced, every smile a small calculus.

"How are you holding up?" she asked, voice velvet.

Vikram laughed—short and empty. 

"Like a bad song on repeat. I can’t stop thinking about her. All day, every day" 

He rubbed his face with both hands. 

"She’s moving to Goa. Sonarika—she’s walking away and I have nothing to show but excuses"

Meghna leaned in, hands folded, the picture of sympathy. 

"Don’t say ‘nothing.’ You have more than most men. You have patience. You have a way with people. You can be the man she remembers wanting—the one who makes her feel alive again" 

Her words were gentle, but each one landed like an instruction.

He looked up, desperate. 

"But she’s decided to leave. She said she wants to start over. She’s doing therapy, going to Vatika, building a life there. How do I even compete with that? With everything she’s trying to leave behind?"

Meghna’s smile sharpened. 

"You don’t compete with what she’s leaving. You become the reason she shouldn’t leave. You remind her who she was when she was happiest—and you show her that being with you will be easier, truer, more honest. People abandon things they think are gone. Don’t let her think you’re gone"

Vikram’s voice lowered. 

"You think she could come back? Really?"

"I don’t think—" Meghna cut him off, no false modesty in her tone. 

"I know. You have history. You have the one thing Hemant never gave you—undeniable passion and the ability to pull her out of herself.” She allowed the word to hang between them. “She pushed you away because she believed she had to. You can make her believe she wants to be pulled back"

Vikram’s fingers tapped the table, the old hunger stirring. 

"But how? She’s guarded. She’s trying to be better. I can’t just barge into her life without looking like a fool—or worse"

Meghna’s eyes glinted. 

"You don’t barge. You return. You show up not as a tempter but as the man who understands her. Be generous with attention, but be smarter than simple grand gestures. Let her see consistency. Arrive at the send-off not as a desperate lover, but as the man she once chose—the man she might still choose"

He leaned forward, hopeful. 

"So, be steady. Be present. Make her see me as the right man"

"Exactly" Meghna’s hand brushed his wrist in a gesture that felt aiding and inscrutable. 

"And don’t be shy about intimacy when the moment invites it. Not forcefully—never forcefully—but with confidence. Remind her with touch that you know her body and what makes her laugh and what calms her. Rekindling isn’t a single act; it’s a sequence of carefully calibrated moments. A look, a hand on the small of her back, a shared memory that lands like a warm truth"

Vikram swallowed. The idea of closeness—simple, consensual closeness—brought color back to his face. 

"So you’re saying I should try to make her want me again. Make her remember what we had?"

"That’s it" Meghna said, eyes bright. 

"Make her remember the man who understood risk and joy in equal measure. Make her see that Hemant may build machines and sway governments, but he can’t give her the reckless, messy, tender parts of herself that you did"

A thin line of doubt creased Vikram’s forehead. 

"What about the moral part? What if she rejects me again? I don’t want to become the kind of man I hated when I first chased her"

Meghna’s voice softened into a near-whisper, persuasive with intent. 

"Then you step back. You accept. But don’t begin with the fear of failure. Begin with the certainty that you can be better. Be the man who listens more than he speaks. Be the man who makes the world safe enough for her to fall back into. If she chooses him—or herself—then you honor that. But don’t abdicate before the fight has begun"

He ran his hand through his hair, the plan hardening into something he could act on. 

"And the send-off?"

"Be there" Meghna said simply. 

"Not to make a scene, but to be present. Find a chance to speak to her privately. Remind her of one thing she said once—something only she and you shared. Make her laugh. Then, if the chemistry is real and the moment gentle, take her hand, sit close, and ask for one more night of honesty. Not to trap her. To show her the depth of what you feel"

She watched him carefully—measuring how much of him she could steer. 

"If she responds, be tender. If she withdraws, don’t roar—retreat with dignity. Men who scare women with neediness lose any chance of rekindling anything true"

Vikram breathed out, half relief and half resolve. 

"You’re dangerous" he told her, a rueful smile cracking his misery for a second.

Meghna returned the smile, all sugar gloss over steel. 

"Dangerous gets results"

He stood, the decision settling into his posture. 

"I’ll be there this weekend. I’ll do it your way—steady, careful, convincing. I’ll make her see that I’m the right man for her"

Meghna rose with him, slipping into her coat like a second skin. 

"And Vikram—no theatrics. No revenge. Win her with truth, or don’t win her at all. But for God’s sake, don’t creep her out. We want a love regained, not a scandal"

Outside, they parted on the sidewalk—Meghna with a satisfied, secretive tilt to her mouth, Vikram walking away with a small, dangerous hope pulsing under his ribs. Behind him, the city moved on: lights, traffic, lives that would cross and recross. Inside him, something had shifted from longing to strategy. Meghna had handed him a map back into Sonarika’s life—one that required charm, persistence, and a willingness to cross moral lines he hadn’t yet named.

As he disappeared into the crowd, Meghna watched him go and whispered into the night, not for his ears but for her own. 

"Make sure you do it right"


THAT WEEKEND EVENING


The private banquet hall glimmered like a palace of fleeting dreams—golden dbangs, chandelier lights, champagne flows, and the hum of corporate pride. Tonight was Sonarika’s night, the firm’s legend, the face of their success story , but now bidding farewell to the company. Applause and camera flashes greeted her arrival; none knew the ruin she carried within.

She stepped into the hall in a long emerald gown, slit running tastefully yet dangerously high, occasionally revealing the sculpted strength of her legs. She smiled, poised, elegant—but only she knew the tremor beneath all of it.

Tejas waved first, followed by Gayathri, Pooja, Aniket, Vishnu, and Pragya. Compliments flew like confetti—'You look stunning!', 'Star of the night!'—and she received every one with a soft grace, a trained smile masking the faint ache behind her eyes. Then came Meghna, dbangd in a rich blue saree, walking beside Rachika—bright-eyed, unsuspecting Rachika, who still believed Vikram was Sonarika’s destined future. The irony stung. If fate had a sense of humour, tonight it was cruel.

Sonarika hugged them, mind rehearsing composure. Meghna’s eyes shimmered with quiet triumph—she wasn’t here to celebrate; she was here to see how her seed of chaos was growing. And then, like a prince stepping out of a fairytale—but one stained with borrowed dreams—Vikram entered. No dark blazer tonight. Instead, a cream suit, sky-blue shirt beneath, radiating confidence and hope. The crowd cheered his arrival, and his face lit up when he saw her. Almost like love, almost like obsession.

"You look… radiant" 

He said softly when they met, voice carrying a reverence that once made her feel invincible.

"And you" she replied, forcing a light laugh. 

"Look more colourful than usual. Very unlike you"

"Tonight is your night" he smiled. 

"I don’t deserve the spotlight"

If only he knew how little she wanted it.

Later, an executive approached her.

"Will your husband be joining us?"

She hesitated just a beat too long.

"He… might. He’s been busy. The business is doing exceptionally well"

The executive nodded and left, satisfied. But Sonarika wasn’t. Her mind replayed the cavernous steel empire she’d seen—her husband’s world now, forged by fire and betrayal. The Hemant she once loved—gentle, soft-spoken—had melted away into someone steel-edged, relentless, powerful. A man sculpted by hurt.

Her infidelity had not only broken a marriage; it had broken a man—and rebuilt him into something formidable and unreachable.

And yet, God help her, she felt drawn to that new Hemant more than ever.

Then the music changed.

Mozart. Soft, melancholic, dripping nostalgia.

Vikram extended a hand.

"Dance with me?"

She hesitated—but the crowd expected it. The past expected it. She placed her hand in his, and they drifted into the spotlight. Their bodies moved close in the slow classical rhythm—an echo of old sins. Once, this dance meant passion and secret nights tangled in forbidden sheets. Now, the touch felt hollow. Wrong. Almost suffocating.

She wasn’t that woman anymore.

But Vikram was still that man—eyes searching hers, every subtle movement trying to reignite something long turned to ash. His hands were gentle yet desperate, his heart beating too loud for the room.

She didn’t feel fire.
She felt nothing but the ghost of regret.

He sensed the shift. For the first time, defeat flickered across his face—but pride held him upright. Hope is a stubborn poison.

Across the hall, Meghna watched… and smiled, believing her web still held. Then she slipped away quietly with Rachika, whispering poison of future promises into the night.

Sonarika continued to dance, but she wasn’t here anymore.
She was somewhere between who she had been
and the woman she was terrified she could never become again.

And outside this cocoon of music and illusion, a storm was walking toward them—cold-hearted, steel-clad, sword-bound.

Hemant was coming.

Not as her husband.
Not as the man she once broke.

But as the empire she inadvertently forged.



SOME TIME LATER


The dance floor glowed under soft golden lights. Sonarika and Vikram moved in slow rhythm, Mozart floating like an old memory that refused to die. For others, it was elegance. For Sonarika, it was a silence filled with ghosts.

Then came the sound.

A soft hush in the parking driveway, heads turning as camera flashes shifted, murmurs rising.

A deep navy-blue Lexus LM 350h — four-seater, ultra-luxury — rolled to a stop at the entrance. Its polished surface gleamed like still water under moonlight. On the grille, the YOD Industries emblem shone like a rising dynasty's crest.

The doors opened with ceremonious slowness.

Hemant stepped out.

Black silk suit. Crimson shirt glowing under the night lights. His long hair neatly brushed back, face calm… but eyes carrying the quiet violence of someone who had drowned and learned to breathe underwater.

A man forged, not born.

Executives from Tanishq rushed to him with sudden reverence — palms folded, backs slightly bent, voices filled with respect. Years ago, they wouldn’t have spared him a glance. Tonight, they looked honoured just to greet him. It felt good. For a second, truly good.

Then he saw them.

Across the hall, Sonarika—elegant, radiant, breathtaking—dancing with Vikram. Her leg glimmering through the high slit of her gown, her body lightly aligned with Vikram’s. And Vikram’s eyes… still burning with the same hunger from his nightmares.

A slow, clean stab in Hemant’s chest.

His jaw flexed. His eyes darkened. Meghna, watching from the corner, smirked, relishing the storm she believed she controlled. But then something else happened. Hemant inhaled. Blinked the pain away. His posture straightened, and he calmly turned back toward the executives, offering them a tempered smile, as though nothing ever touched him.

Cold poise.

A king refusing to bleed in public.

The song ended. Applause erupted. Sonarika turned — and froze. He came. Joy surged through her chest, and in a heartbeat she abandoned Vikram and walked toward him, hesitating only long enough to tuck her hair behind her ear, breathing hope as if it were oxygen.

"I’m so glad you came" she whispered, eyes shining.

Hemant’s expression didn’t soften. He gave a polite nod. 

"I noticed. Looked like you were… already having a wonderful time. With your man"

The words hit like a quiet explosion.

"No, Hemant— that’s not—"

He raised a hand lightly, not to stop her—just to end the moment. Then he walked past her without another word. Sonarika stood still, breath shaky, the warmth draining from her evening.

The party carried on.

Speeches began. Sonarika sat tense, fear swirling — Hemant was unpredictable in moments like these. What if he humiliated her? An executive nudged Hemant to speak. The mic landed in his hand. He looked at the crowd, then at Sonarika — and she braced herself. But his voice was calm. Proud. Not of marriage. But of who she was to the world.

"Sonarika’s journey here" he began.

"Has turned her into the woman she always deserved to become. Tanishq didn’t just employ her — it shaped her. Gave her confidence, strength, and refinement"

Hemant continued.

"I’ve often joked that Tanishq is her true husband. I was only the decorative piece in the living room"

Laughter echoed — light, affectionate.

"But jokes aside, her dedication, her discipline, her grace — these will remain long after she leaves. She leaves not just as an employee, but as a legacy"

He paused, voice steady, eyes unreadable.

"I am proud. Not as her husband — but as someone who had the fortune of witnessing her growth"

Applause thundered. Sonarika exhaled, overwhelmed, wanting to both smile and cry. She wasn’t sure whether he meant to honour her… or quietly remind everyone she was no longer his to introduce. The celebration resumed — except for Sonarika. Her gaze followed Hemant like a prayer, a plea, a regret. Later, she caught him walking out.

"Where are you going?" she asked, voice fragile.

"My obligation is done" he replied. 

"I attended. That was the expectation"

"Hemant, please—"

He stopped.

"Are you coming home tonight?" he asked quietly.

Sonarika hesitated.

"I… I told Ragini I’d stay with her and the girls tonight"

His smile cut deeper than anger ever could.

"Of course. Another night. Another excuse"

“It’s not a lie—”

"Enjoy your night and future with your big dick lover" he murmured, gaze distant. 

"I’ll go home to my son and my sister. At least there, I don’t feel like the extra piece in someone else’s story"

The Lexus door shut gently, yet the sound echoed like finality.

As the car pulled away, Sonarika’s vision blurred. Glass halls, glittering gowns, applause… yet she had never felt so alone.

Hemant didn’t look back once.

She stood in the driveway, tears gathering, watching him vanish into the Mumbai night — successful, untouchable, wounded beyond reach… and somehow still the man she loved most when she least deserved to.

And for the first time that night, she felt the full weight of her choices.

The curtain had not fallen.

It had only just begun to tear.

                                                                                                                                                                                                           (TO BE CONTD)

[Harry Jordan]

                                                                                                                                                                           (CHAPTER CONTD)

THAT EVENING AT THE APARTMENT



The apartment door shut behind Hemant with a soft click. Inside, warmth greeted him—Tara tidying toys, the faint scent of fresh dal, and little Karan running toward him with arms wide.

"Papa!"

For the first time all evening, Hemant’s face softened. He knelt, hugging his son tightly—almost desperately.

"How was your day, champ?"

Karan beamed, animatedly showing a drawing of a “big robot dad” saving people. Hemant smiled. A part of him wanted to stay in that innocence forever. A place untouched by betrayal, doubt, or haunting memories of another man’s hands on the woman he once loved. The father and son duo enjoyed their time playing games in the playstation. But for Hemant , it was a hard time to really enjoy it.


The controller vibrated faintly in his palm, a distant echo of the racing car he was supposedly piloting on the screen. Karan’s giggles were a bright, sharp counterpoint to the heavy fog in Hemant’s head.

"You’re driving so badly, Papa!" 

The boy squealed as Hemant’s car veered off the digital track and slammed into a barrier for the third time. A soft, warm hand placed a cup of tea on the table beside him. 

"Long night?" 

Anjali asked, her voice laced with a sympathy that felt like a pinprick. He just grunted, his focus brittle. The real distraction wasn’t the game. It was the ghost of a green dress, the memory of silk clinging to a familiar, shapely ass, the way another man’s hand had fit so possessively on the curve of a hip that was once his to touch. His soon-to-be ex-wife’s hip.

"Where’s Mumma?" 

Karan asked, his large, innocent eyes never leaving the television screen as he expertly navigated a sharp turn.  Hemant’s throat tightened. 

"She’s staying with some aunties, her friends from work. She’ll be back in the morning" 

The lie, Sonarika’s lie he believes, tasted like ash on his tongue. He forced a smile. He knew. He’d seen them at the party, a private send-off for her life in Mumbai to move to Goa. For her ‘fresh start’. What a perfect, respectable facade. He’d walked into that massive hall and the first thing he saw was them, swaying to a Mozart piece that was too classical for the heat in their movements. That red-carpet gown, the vibrant green of envy itself. Off-the-shoulder, highlighting the heavy, tempting swell of her cleavage. The long slit that promised a glimpse of her strong, meaty thighs with every step. And Vikram. His hand on the small of her back, then lower, his fingers splaying over the silk-covered curve of her buttock, a claim made in front of everyone yet seen, he was sure, only by him.

The memory was a branding iron. He shoved it down, deep, and focused on his son’s laughter until it was time for bed.

Later, after dinner and bedtime stories, Karan finally drifted to sleep. Hemant stepped out onto the balcony with a glass of water, staring at the city lights bleeding into the dark sky.

But peace didn't come.

In the shadows of his mind, scenes formed uninvited

And then, he was there.


 *

The door to Vikram’s apartment clicked shut, a sound of finality. The party’s din was replaced by the thick, expectant silence of their sanctuary. Sonarika’s back was against the door, her chest rising and falling with a breath she’d been holding all evening. Vikram’s body pressed into hers, his hands caging her in. His mouth found the exposed skin of her shoulder, a hot, open-mouthed kiss that drew a shaky sigh from her lips.

"I’ve been waiting all night to do that" 

He murmured, his voice a low rumble against her skin. His lips traced a searing path along her collarbone, up the column of her neck. 

"The way you looked tonight… everyone was watching you. But you were only dancing with me"

His hands slid from the door to her hips, his fingers digging into the lush flesh there through the silk. He ground his pelvis against hers, the hard ridge of his erection a blatant promise against her stomach. A soft, wanton moan escaped her, her head falling back against the wood.

"Vikram…"

He found her mouth then, kissing her with a possession that was raw and unchecked. This was no party-floor tease. This was hunger. His tongue plunged deep, tasting the champagne on her lips, claiming her. Her hands came up, tangling in his hair, pulling him closer, her own need rising to meet his.

His fingers found the zip of her dress. The sound of it sliding down was obscenely loud in the quiet room. The green fabric loosened, and he pushed it from her shoulders. It pooled at her feet in a whisper of expensive silk, leaving her standing in only a strapless bra and a pair of delicate lace panties that did little to hide the dark triangle of hair beneath.

"My god, Sonarika" he breathed, his eyes dark with lust as he drank her in. 

"You are perfect"

He made quick work of his own clothes, throwing his cream jacket aside, tearing at the buttons of his blue shirt. Soon, he was just as bare, his body lean and hard against her softness. He guided her down, not to the bedroom, but onto the plush rug of the living room floor, right there amidst the framed photographs of their secret smiles and stolen weekends—a gallery of their forbidden but awakening relation.

He covered her body with his, the heat of his skin a shock against hers. His mouth found her breast, sucking one peaked nipple through the lace of her bra before tugging the cup down with his teeth to lavish the bare flesh with his tongue. She cried out, her back arching, pushing herself deeper into his mouth. Her fingers clawed at his back, urging him on. He shifted, settling between her spread thighs. He hooked his fingers into the sides of her panties and pulled, tearing the fragile lace without ceremony. She gasped, but it was a sound of pure arousal, of liberation. He positioned himself at her entrance, the broad head of his cock pressing against her wet heat.

"I wish I could do this every night" he groaned, his forehead resting against hers. 

"I wish I never had to let you go"

Her answer was a roll of her hips, taking the first inch of him inside. 

"You can" she whispered, her voice husky with need. 

"There is no more Hemant. There’s only us now"

It was all the permission he needed. He drove into her in one deep, sure stroke, burying himself to the hilt. She gasped, a sharp, guttural sound of pleasure-pain as he filled her completely. And then he began to move.

His thrusts were not gentle. They were rigorous, possessive, each one a punctuation mark on their new beginning. The rhythm was frantic, a furious dance of flesh meeting flesh. The slap of their skin, their ragged breaths, her escalating moans—it was a symphony of their sin. His leg, braced for leverage, kicked out and connected with the nearby couch, shoving it back a few inches with every powerful thrust of his hips.

"Goa is our new beginning , a fresh start" 

He panted into her ear, his voice strained with the effort of his movement. 

"It’ll be just us. We’ll build a life there. A real life"

"Yes" 

She keened, her nails digging into his shoulders. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her entire world narrowed to the sensation of him pistoning in and out of her, hitting a spot deep inside that made her see stars. 

"Just us. Only us"

Her words, her complete and utter surrender to him, to their future, pushed him over the edge. His pace became erratic, frantic. 

"I’m going to cum, Sonarika"

"Inside me" she begged, her voice a broken plea. 

"I want to feel you. I want all of you"

With a guttural roar that was ripped from the depths of his soul, Vikram plunged deep one final time and held himself there. Hemant could almost feel the hot, pulsing release as Vikram emptied himself inside her. Sonarika’s own climax followed instantly, her body clamping around him in violent, rhythmic waves, a wordless scream torn from her lips as she shattered beneath him. They collapsed together in a slick, sweaty heap of tangled limbs, their breathing gradually slowing. Vikram shifted, not pulling away, but to kiss her, a slow, deep, post-coital kiss that spoke of tenderness and ownership. They smiled against each other’s mouths, a silent, joyous celebration.

 
*


Hemant’s eyes flew open. A cold sweat slicked his skin. The empty glass nearly slipped from his numb fingers. The city lights below blurred into a nauseating kaleidoscope. The image of their satisfied smiles, their intimate kiss, was seared onto the backs of his eyelids. It wasn’t a fantasy. It was a premonition. It was his new, waking nightmare, playing on a loop behind his eyes to the soundtrack of his own. He cursed Sonarika , cursed his fate , deep inside Michael King whispered to him , to grab his Inquisitor and walk into that Galaxy Apartment and end it , just like he ended his enemies with no mercy. But the face of Karan and Anjali , and most importantly , that little twinge in his heart. He could never do that to Sonarika. Maybe this was his punishment , for all the losses , all the people he has killed , curses from the loved ones of the people he has killed. Sonarika will forever be his suffering , no matter how much of an empire he creates , she will forever be a reminder of his failure as a husband , as a family man. His mind doubted , whether he was succumbing to the same pit Kunal has ended up to be.


"No" he muttered, shaking his head hard.

He wasn’t that man. He refused to drown in those visions. He realized this was just a new kind of nightmare that tries to haunt him , and this was the motivation he need to overcome it. His past haunted him not so long ago but he growed out of those nightmares , embracing it. Now he has to do the one thing to overcome his current nightmare , to let go Sonarika from his mind , to accept that she is not his wife or partner anymore. He needed some fresh air , a different space.


He pulled out his phone.

"Kunal" he said when the call connected. A tired voice answered. 

"Yeah?"

"You free?"

A pause. 

"Sort of. Mouni is out. She went to Ragini’s place. Same party Sonarika is at"

Silence. Hemant’s grip tightened. Same script. Different cast.

"Bring Mohit" he said quietly. 

"Come to my place. Now"

"What? Why? It’s late—"

"I’ll tell you in person"

Hemant hung up.

Half an hour later, the bell rang. Karan burst awake, thrilled to see his friend Mohit. The two kids sprinted to the living room shouting excitedly as Tara watched fondly. Kunal walked in—shoulders slumped, eyes tired, that familiar defeated expression of a man whose dignity had been tested too many times.

He lowered his voice. 

"Bro… what’s going on?"

Hemant didn’t answer immediately. He turned to Tara instead.

"Tara, I'll be stepping out with Kunal for a few hours. Please keep an eye on the boys"

She nodded earnestly. 

"Yes sir, don’t worry"

Hemant then looked at Kunal, expression turning cold and sharp.

"You want to spend tonight like a loser in your marriage?"

Kunal froze. The word stung—not vulgar, but raw, soaked in history and humiliation.

"…No" he muttered. 

"I’m tired of feeling like that"

Hemant’s eyes hardened, voice steady like steel.

"Then tonight, we don’t sit at home imagining our wives with their better halfs. We don’t let our pain control us. Tonight, we remind ourselves who we are"

Kunal blinked. 

"And what’s that supposed to mean?"

"It means we live like men. We don’t cry over people choosing someone else"

He walked toward the door, grabbing his keys.

"Come"

Kunal hesitated, confused, almost unnerved by how different Hemant seemed. Gone was the gentle, soft-spoken husband. In his place stood someone sharpened, decisive… dangerous with purpose.

"Where are we going?" he asked quietly.

Hemant stared straight ahead.

"You’ll see"

The apartment door shut behind them. Inside, two children laughed at a video game. Outside, two fathers walked into the night, not sure whether they were reclaiming themselves — or about to screw up their lives further with something reckless.


LATER THAT NIGHT AT A HOTEL


The hotel lobby shimmered like a jewel—crystal chandeliers, marble floors, and a soundtrack of quiet piano easing through the air. Hemant and Kunal entered the rooftop lounge where the city sparkled beneath them like a kingdom of burning stars. Hemant, as always, didn’t order alcohol.

"Fresh lime. No sugar"

Kunal lifted a whiskey glass. 

"Just one. I'm not trying to drown myself tonight"

They sat near the glass wall that overlooked Mumbai’s skyline—alive, indifferent, unstoppable. For once, Hemant wasn’t brooding. Just present. Calm. A soldier enjoying peace before another war. Kunal exhaled, swirling his drink.
"So… you seriously are going on business with the Mehtas?"

Hemant leaned back. 

"Thought you adored Hansraj Mehta. You used to call him your business scripture"

Kunal chuckled bitterly. 

"Yeah. Then I grew up. Every emperor has a sewer line running under his palace. And Siddharth? He’s worse. A snake with designer shoes. You sure you want to deal with him?"

"I know what he is" Hemant replied evenly. 

"And I’m prepared"

Kunal studied him. 

"You say that with a little too much confidence"

Hemant didn’t blink. 

"When you’ve been emptied by life, nothing scares you anymore. Not even sharks in suits"

Kunal nodded slowly. There it was—that steel. That quiet certainty.

"If anyone can out-maneuver the Mehtas, it’s you"

"And Pranitha?" he added suddenly. 

"You seeing her?"

Hemant’s eyebrow rose. 

"Haven’t seen her since the hospital. The world will tell us if there's anything there. I won’t force fate"

Just then—heels clicked, perfumes drifted, laughter wrapped around their table. Meghna and Rachika. Meghna smirked. 

"Well well. Look who ditched brooding at home"

Hemant exhaled sharply. 

"What are you doing here?"

"Rachika's accomodation in the city is this hotel's private suite" Meghna replied casually. 

"I was dropping her off. Saw you two and thought—why not say hello?"

Kunal blinked in surprise as Rachika greeted him warmly. Soon enough, she and Kunal slipped into easy laughter at the edge of the table—two strangers with similarities finding a common rapport in each other. Meghna took Hemant’s seat side—too natural, too deliberate.

"So" she said lightly, swirling her mocktail. 

"Double date now?"

Hemant scoffed. 

"Heh....that is probably being done by Mouni and Sonarika right now , with their boyfriends. I just brought him here so that I don't feel like a loser in my failed marriage"

Meghna sighed dramatically. 

"Well , you guys are definitely not losers anymore. I mean look—Kunal is no longer a walking humiliation. Congratulations. You resurrected him from his cuckold era"

A sharp smirk. 

"No wonder Mouni despises you"

Hemant’s jaw tightened. 

"Ironic, isn’t it? I saved him from his cuckolding. And my wife turned me into an unwilling cuckold with her actions"

His fingers drummed the table, voice low, raw.

"She’s probably wrapped around him right now. In their little apartment , probably getting pounded by him , behaving like a cheap fucking slut!!!!"

Hemant's pain pushed through. Meghna touched his arm gently, voice coated with honey and venom.

"Maybe she never deserved you. Some women don’t know how to handle strong men"

And boom—there it was.

Hemant’s eyes narrowed.

This Meghna wasn’t the same woman who once defended Sonarika like a lioness.

"You agree with me now?" his tone sharpened. 

"That’s new. You used to hate me"

Meghna blinked—caught for a split second. Then crafted a soft smile.

"I hated who you were. Soft. Passive. You reminded me of my ex Javed. Weak heart, weak spine"

She leaned slightly closer.

"But you evolved. Hardened. Matured. That softness is gone. It looks good on you"

A beat. Hemant held her gaze. Studying. Dissecting. Seeing. Her mask faltered just an inch—an invisible tremor behind her eyelashes. For the first time in her life, someone was looking through her, not at her. Hemant’s voice dropped, quiet and razor-sharp:

"So.....I am good now.....maybe there is a silver lining to this tragedy after all!"

Meghna smiled again. Perfect. Composed. But her eyes flickered—panic. Exposure. Hemant leaned back calmly. Tonight was no longer about overcoming nightmares. It was about getting some clarity. And in that moment, Hemant saw Meghna , not as Sonarika's best friend , but a more sinister presence in his life.


Rachika’s suite was a shimmering palace of velvet dbangs, warm amber lights, and the faint perfume of luxury. Laughter rolled in with them — loose, reckless, the kind that belonged to people running from something inside themselves. Kunal and Rachika sank into the plush sofa, their easy rhythm growing deeper, almost magnetic. Their laughter mixed with clinking glasses — two people rediscovering sparks they didn’t know they needed. Meghna, meanwhile, had settled opposite Hemant, eyes unfocused yet strangely sharp. There was a glow in them — not the intoxication, but a hunger. Calculation. Victory.


Hemant watched carefully. Her laughs were too loud. Her smiles too free. Her proximity too deliberate. And then the thoughts started clicking together. Every sudden girls’ night. Every excuse Sonarika threw. Every time Vikram entered the picture — Meghna’s name lingered in the background like a stain. She was everywhere in the lies. Like a ghost behind a curtain. She played a role… didn’t she? The veneer of friendship. The harmless girl-gang confidante. The soft-spoken feminist rebel.

No. This woman sitting in front of him — glass in hand, eyes burning hotter than the liquor — she was not that girl. She was something else entirely. And Michael King’s instincts whispered inside him, sharp, cold, predatory:

'She’s a puppeteer, Hemant. A player in the dark. Recognize your kind'

The truth-and-dare game lost steam as they didn't make it spicy. Laughter flattened. The night wanted sharper games.

Meghna’s fingers brushed a chess set on the table.

"Let’s play"

Rachika giggled, too far gone. 

"I’ll watch… or sleep on the floor… whichever comes first"

Hemant sat. Calm. Centered. Eyes narrowed like a hawk studying prey. Meghna smirked confidently — that same spark she always had when she believed she controlled the room. But tonight, Hemant wasn’t the mellow man she remembered. Tonight, the king was awake.

The King vs. The Puppet Master

Moves began — sharp, quick. Meghna’s queen danced early, aggressive, claiming the board like a throne. Hemant moved slowly. Deliberately. His king stepped forward. Meghna scoffed.

"Oh, come on. Already giving up the weakest piece?"

Her voice flirted around superiority, feminism, control.

"The queen" she said 

"Is the most powerful and the main player. This game reeks of patriarchy. Nothing can beat the queen"

Hemant’s laughter cut her mid-sentence — controlled, lethal.

"You misunderstand chess… and life" he murmured.

His king advanced again. Not fleeing — challenging.

"Everyone on this board is expendable except one" 

He continued softly, voice sinking like a blade in water.

"Not the queen. Not the knight , not any other warrior"

His eyes lifted and pinned her.

"The King is not a piece. He is the whole game"

Meghna’s breath trembled.

"He doesn’t hide behind anyone. He strikes , but you would never see that coming"

Her queen fell. Then her knight. Then her bishop. One move at a time — precision dismantling ego.

Check.

Check.

Check.

Meghna’s confidence cracked. Her veneer slipped. Hemant leaned in, voice quiet, devastating:

"Even when the queen dies, the war continues. Because everyone fights for the King. And the game only ends when the King wins!"

Final move.

Checkmate.

Meghna stared — stunned, disarmed, captivated by the ruthless clarity she’d never seen in him before. At that moment , she wasn't just defeated , she was meticulously submitted by his mental dominance. Hemant was no more anything like Javed , he was something she felt challenged by. A man who was playing with her power fantasy , pushing back her dominance.

Something primal surged in her — not passion, but weakness masquerading as it. The spell of power.

She lunged.

Her lips crashed into his — desperate, claiming, impulsive. The room froze. Kunal blinked. Rachika smirked. Every truth unspoken in the air shattered into chaos. Hemant did not kiss back. Did not move. Did not breathe. He simply absorbed the betrayal-echo of another woman’s lips, his eyes open, staring through her — analyzing still.

Meghna’s hand gripped his. She dragged him toward the second bedroom and locked the door. Behind them, Kunal whispered in shock,

"…did that just…?"

Rachika’s smile curled slow and wicked.

"Well… your friend is occupied. Why waste a night?"

Before Kunal could gather thought, she kissed him — and like dominoes, two paths of recklessness sealed shut behind two doors. As the sounds of clothes moving and sheets spreading echoed off to the main room. One thing was certain , whatever happens tonight , whether it is something destiny wanted to be or something catastrophic. None of their lives will ever be the same again!


PAST MIDNIGHT AT THE APARTMENT.


Karan and Mohit slept together in his room along with a deep in sleep Anjali in the adjoining bed as Tara turned off the light and calmly closed the door. As she walked to the main living room , she looked at the photos of the family on the showcases. She looked at each image with a silent stare but her eyes were locked onto Hemant. As she kept on staring , her phone rang.

Tara took the phone and trembled a little as she realized who was calling. She walked into the balcony as she attended the call.

"Hello"

On the other end of the call , miles away from Mumbai. Standing at the lawn of the Qamarvan Palace , was Daraaksh Zarir.

"Congratulations on the primary mission completion miss Tara. I will admit I had my doubts of Michael catching you"

"He is not Michael anymore Sultan. Believe it or not , he is a mellowed out version of what you believe"

"That is the first mistake Tara , underestimating this Hemant. Micheal King is the real him , and he is still breathes in that mask called Hemant Kumar"

"Well you're job is halfway done , his wife is moving away from the city to Goa , there is no hope for a reconciliation between them"

"That is good , now its the perfect time for you to earn his trust , care and attention. Do whatever you can , but at the end , have him rely on you to the point he will see you as a support"

"And then what?"

"Then , we'll start slicing. One by one , we will take out everything near and dear to him , save Karan for last. I have some special plans for that sweet boy"

Tara with a cold stare to the night sky responded.

"Jo hukum Sultan. Your ace has entered the game!!"

                                                                                                                                                                                                   END OF CHAPTER 26 

[DeanWinchester00007]

                                                                                                                                                                           (CHAPTER CONTD)

THAT EVENING AT THE APARTMENT



The apartment door shut behind Hemant with a soft click. Inside, warmth greeted him—Tara tidying toys, the faint scent of fresh dal, and little Karan running toward him with arms wide.

"Papa!"

For the first time all evening, Hemant’s face softened. He knelt, hugging his son tightly—almost desperately.

"How was your day, champ?"

Karan beamed, animatedly showing a drawing of a “big robot dad” saving people. Hemant smiled. A part of him wanted to stay in that innocence forever. A place untouched by betrayal, doubt, or haunting memories of another man’s hands on the woman he once loved. The father and son duo enjoyed their time playing games in the playstation. But for Hemant , it was a hard time to really enjoy it.


The controller vibrated faintly in his palm, a distant echo of the racing car he was supposedly piloting on the screen. Karan’s giggles were a bright, sharp counterpoint to the heavy fog in Hemant’s head.

"You’re driving so badly, Papa!" 

The boy squealed as Hemant’s car veered off the digital track and slammed into a barrier for the third time. A soft, warm hand placed a cup of tea on the table beside him. 

"Long night?" 

Anjali asked, her voice laced with a sympathy that felt like a pinprick. He just grunted, his focus brittle. The real distraction wasn’t the game. It was the ghost of a green dress, the memory of silk clinging to a familiar, shapely ass, the way another man’s hand had fit so possessively on the curve of a hip that was once his to touch. His soon-to-be ex-wife’s hip.

"Where’s Mumma?" 

Karan asked, his large, innocent eyes never leaving the television screen as he expertly navigated a sharp turn.  Hemant’s throat tightened. 

"She’s staying with some aunties, her friends from work. She’ll be back in the morning" 

The lie, Sonarika’s lie he believes, tasted like ash on his tongue. He forced a smile. He knew. He’d seen them at the party, a private send-off for her life in Mumbai to move to Goa. For her ‘fresh start’. What a perfect, respectable facade. He’d walked into that massive hall and the first thing he saw was them, swaying to a Mozart piece that was too classical for the heat in their movements. That red-carpet gown, the vibrant green of envy itself. Off-the-shoulder, highlighting the heavy, tempting swell of her cleavage. The long slit that promised a glimpse of her strong, meaty thighs with every step. And Vikram. His hand on the small of her back, then lower, his fingers splaying over the silk-covered curve of her buttock, a claim made in front of everyone yet seen, he was sure, only by him.

The memory was a branding iron. He shoved it down, deep, and focused on his son’s laughter until it was time for bed.

Later, after dinner and bedtime stories, Karan finally drifted to sleep. Hemant stepped out onto the balcony with a glass of water, staring at the city lights bleeding into the dark sky.

But peace didn't come.

In the shadows of his mind, scenes formed uninvited

And then, he was there.


 *

The door to Vikram’s apartment clicked shut, a sound of finality. The party’s din was replaced by the thick, expectant silence of their sanctuary. Sonarika’s back was against the door, her chest rising and falling with a breath she’d been holding all evening. Vikram’s body pressed into hers, his hands caging her in. His mouth found the exposed skin of her shoulder, a hot, open-mouthed kiss that drew a shaky sigh from her lips.

"I’ve been waiting all night to do that" 

He murmured, his voice a low rumble against her skin. His lips traced a searing path along her collarbone, up the column of her neck. 

"The way you looked tonight… everyone was watching you. But you were only dancing with me"

His hands slid from the door to her hips, his fingers digging into the lush flesh there through the silk. He ground his pelvis against hers, the hard ridge of his erection a blatant promise against her stomach. A soft, wanton moan escaped her, her head falling back against the wood.

"Vikram…"

He found her mouth then, kissing her with a possession that was raw and unchecked. This was no party-floor tease. This was hunger. His tongue plunged deep, tasting the champagne on her lips, claiming her. Her hands came up, tangling in his hair, pulling him closer, her own need rising to meet his.

His fingers found the zip of her dress. The sound of it sliding down was obscenely loud in the quiet room. The green fabric loosened, and he pushed it from her shoulders. It pooled at her feet in a whisper of expensive silk, leaving her standing in only a strapless bra and a pair of delicate lace panties that did little to hide the dark triangle of hair beneath.

"My god, Sonarika" he breathed, his eyes dark with lust as he drank her in. 

"You are perfect"

He made quick work of his own clothes, throwing his cream jacket aside, tearing at the buttons of his blue shirt. Soon, he was just as bare, his body lean and hard against her softness. He guided her down, not to the bedroom, but onto the plush rug of the living room floor, right there amidst the framed photographs of their secret smiles and stolen weekends—a gallery of their forbidden but awakening relation.

He covered her body with his, the heat of his skin a shock against hers. His mouth found her breast, sucking one peaked nipple through the lace of her bra before tugging the cup down with his teeth to lavish the bare flesh with his tongue. She cried out, her back arching, pushing herself deeper into his mouth. Her fingers clawed at his back, urging him on. He shifted, settling between her spread thighs. He hooked his fingers into the sides of her panties and pulled, tearing the fragile lace without ceremony. She gasped, but it was a sound of pure arousal, of liberation. He positioned himself at her entrance, the broad head of his cock pressing against her wet heat.

"I wish I could do this every night" he groaned, his forehead resting against hers. 

"I wish I never had to let you go"

Her answer was a roll of her hips, taking the first inch of him inside. 

"You can" she whispered, her voice husky with need. 

"There is no more Hemant. There’s only us now"

It was all the permission he needed. He drove into her in one deep, sure stroke, burying himself to the hilt. She gasped, a sharp, guttural sound of pleasure-pain as he filled her completely. And then he began to move.

His thrusts were not gentle. They were rigorous, possessive, each one a punctuation mark on their new beginning. The rhythm was frantic, a furious dance of flesh meeting flesh. The slap of their skin, their ragged breaths, her escalating moans—it was a symphony of their sin. His leg, braced for leverage, kicked out and connected with the nearby couch, shoving it back a few inches with every powerful thrust of his hips.

"Goa is our new beginning , a fresh start" 

He panted into her ear, his voice strained with the effort of his movement. 

"It’ll be just us. We’ll build a life there. A real life"

"Yes" 

She keened, her nails digging into his shoulders. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her entire world narrowed to the sensation of him pistoning in and out of her, hitting a spot deep inside that made her see stars. 

"Just us. Only us"

Her words, her complete and utter surrender to him, to their future, pushed him over the edge. His pace became erratic, frantic. 

"I’m going to cum, Sonarika"

"Inside me" she begged, her voice a broken plea. 

"I want to feel you. I want all of you"

With a guttural roar that was ripped from the depths of his soul, Vikram plunged deep one final time and held himself there. Hemant could almost feel the hot, pulsing release as Vikram emptied himself inside her. Sonarika’s own climax followed instantly, her body clamping around him in violent, rhythmic waves, a wordless scream torn from her lips as she shattered beneath him. They collapsed together in a slick, sweaty heap of tangled limbs, their breathing gradually slowing. Vikram shifted, not pulling away, but to kiss her, a slow, deep, post-coital kiss that spoke of tenderness and ownership. They smiled against each other’s mouths, a silent, joyous celebration.

 
*


Hemant’s eyes flew open. A cold sweat slicked his skin. The empty glass nearly slipped from his numb fingers. The city lights below blurred into a nauseating kaleidoscope. The image of their satisfied smiles, their intimate kiss, was seared onto the backs of his eyelids. It wasn’t a fantasy. It was a premonition. It was his new, waking nightmare, playing on a loop behind his eyes to the soundtrack of his own. He cursed Sonarika , cursed his fate , deep inside Michael King whispered to him , to grab his Inquisitor and walk into that Galaxy Apartment and end it , just like he ended his enemies with no mercy. But the face of Karan and Anjali , and most importantly , that little twinge in his heart. He could never do that to Sonarika. Maybe this was his punishment , for all the losses , all the people he has killed , curses from the loved ones of the people he has killed. Sonarika will forever be his suffering , no matter how much of an empire he creates , she will forever be a reminder of his failure as a husband , as a family man. His mind doubted , whether he was succumbing to the same pit Kunal has ended up to be.


"No" he muttered, shaking his head hard.

He wasn’t that man. He refused to drown in those visions. He realized this was just a new kind of nightmare that tries to haunt him , and this was the motivation he need to overcome it. His past haunted him not so long ago but he growed out of those nightmares , embracing it. Now he has to do the one thing to overcome his current nightmare , to let go Sonarika from his mind , to accept that she is not his wife or partner anymore. He needed some fresh air , a different space.


He pulled out his phone.

"Kunal" he said when the call connected. A tired voice answered. 

"Yeah?"

"You free?"

A pause. 

"Sort of. Mouni is out. She went to Ragini’s place. Same party Sonarika is at"

Silence. Hemant’s grip tightened. Same script. Different cast.

"Bring Mohit" he said quietly. 

"Come to my place. Now"

"What? Why? It’s late—"

"I’ll tell you in person"

Hemant hung up.

Half an hour later, the bell rang. Karan burst awake, thrilled to see his friend Mohit. The two kids sprinted to the living room shouting excitedly as Tara watched fondly. Kunal walked in—shoulders slumped, eyes tired, that familiar defeated expression of a man whose dignity had been tested too many times.

He lowered his voice. 

"Bro… what’s going on?"

Hemant didn’t answer immediately. He turned to Tara instead.

"Tara, I'll be stepping out with Kunal for a few hours. Please keep an eye on the boys"

She nodded earnestly. 

"Yes sir, don’t worry"

Hemant then looked at Kunal, expression turning cold and sharp.

"You want to spend tonight like a loser in your marriage?"

Kunal froze. The word stung—not vulgar, but raw, soaked in history and humiliation.

"…No" he muttered. 

"I’m tired of feeling like that"

Hemant’s eyes hardened, voice steady like steel.

"Then tonight, we don’t sit at home imagining our wives with their better halfs. We don’t let our pain control us. Tonight, we remind ourselves who we are"

Kunal blinked. 

"And what’s that supposed to mean?"

"It means we live like men. We don’t cry over people choosing someone else"

He walked toward the door, grabbing his keys.

"Come"

Kunal hesitated, confused, almost unnerved by how different Hemant seemed. Gone was the gentle, soft-spoken husband. In his place stood someone sharpened, decisive… dangerous with purpose.

"Where are we going?" he asked quietly.

Hemant stared straight ahead.

"You’ll see"

The apartment door shut behind them. Inside, two children laughed at a video game. Outside, two fathers walked into the night, not sure whether they were reclaiming themselves — or about to screw up their lives further with something reckless.


LATER THAT NIGHT AT A HOTEL


The hotel lobby shimmered like a jewel—crystal chandeliers, marble floors, and a soundtrack of quiet piano easing through the air. Hemant and Kunal entered the rooftop lounge where the city sparkled beneath them like a kingdom of burning stars. Hemant, as always, didn’t order alcohol.

"Fresh lime. No sugar"

Kunal lifted a whiskey glass. 

"Just one. I'm not trying to drown myself tonight"

They sat near the glass wall that overlooked Mumbai’s skyline—alive, indifferent, unstoppable. For once, Hemant wasn’t brooding. Just present. Calm. A soldier enjoying peace before another war. Kunal exhaled, swirling his drink.
"So… you seriously are going on business with the Mehtas?"

Hemant leaned back. 

"Thought you adored Hansraj Mehta. You used to call him your business scripture"

Kunal chuckled bitterly. 

"Yeah. Then I grew up. Every emperor has a sewer line running under his palace. And Siddharth? He’s worse. A snake with designer shoes. You sure you want to deal with him?"

"I know what he is" Hemant replied evenly. 

"And I’m prepared"

Kunal studied him. 

"You say that with a little too much confidence"

Hemant didn’t blink. 

"When you’ve been emptied by life, nothing scares you anymore. Not even sharks in suits"

Kunal nodded slowly. There it was—that steel. That quiet certainty.

"If anyone can out-maneuver the Mehtas, it’s you"

"And Pranitha?" he added suddenly. 

"You seeing her?"

Hemant’s eyebrow rose. 

"Haven’t seen her since the hospital. The world will tell us if there's anything there. I won’t force fate"

Just then—heels clicked, perfumes drifted, laughter wrapped around their table. Meghna and Rachika. Meghna smirked. 

"Well well. Look who ditched brooding at home"

Hemant exhaled sharply. 

"What are you doing here?"

"Rachika's accomodation in the city is this hotel's private suite" Meghna replied casually. 

"I was dropping her off. Saw you two and thought—why not say hello?"

Kunal blinked in surprise as Rachika greeted him warmly. Soon enough, she and Kunal slipped into easy laughter at the edge of the table—two strangers with similarities finding a common rapport in each other. Meghna took Hemant’s seat side—too natural, too deliberate.

"So" she said lightly, swirling her mocktail. 

"Double date now?"

Hemant scoffed. 

"Heh....that is probably being done by Mouni and Sonarika right now , with their boyfriends. I just brought him here so that I don't feel like a loser in my failed marriage"

Meghna sighed dramatically. 

"Well , you guys are definitely not losers anymore. I mean look—Kunal is no longer a walking humiliation. Congratulations. You resurrected him from his cuckold era"

A sharp smirk. 

"No wonder Mouni despises you"

Hemant’s jaw tightened. 

"Ironic, isn’t it? I saved him from his cuckolding. And my wife turned me into an unwilling cuckold with her actions"

His fingers drummed the table, voice low, raw.

"She’s probably wrapped around him right now. In their little apartment , probably getting pounded by him , behaving like a cheap fucking slut!!!!"

Hemant's pain pushed through. Meghna touched his arm gently, voice coated with honey and venom.

"Maybe she never deserved you. Some women don’t know how to handle strong men"

And boom—there it was.

Hemant’s eyes narrowed.

This Meghna wasn’t the same woman who once defended Sonarika like a lioness.

"You agree with me now?" his tone sharpened. 

"That’s new. You used to hate me"

Meghna blinked—caught for a split second. Then crafted a soft smile.

"I hated who you were. Soft. Passive. You reminded me of my ex Javed. Weak heart, weak spine"

She leaned slightly closer.

"But you evolved. Hardened. Matured. That softness is gone. It looks good on you"

A beat. Hemant held her gaze. Studying. Dissecting. Seeing. Her mask faltered just an inch—an invisible tremor behind her eyelashes. For the first time in her life, someone was looking through her, not at her. Hemant’s voice dropped, quiet and razor-sharp:

"So.....I am good now.....maybe there is a silver lining to this tragedy after all!"

Meghna smiled again. Perfect. Composed. But her eyes flickered—panic. Exposure. Hemant leaned back calmly. Tonight was no longer about overcoming nightmares. It was about getting some clarity. And in that moment, Hemant saw Meghna , not as Sonarika's best friend , but a more sinister presence in his life.


Rachika’s suite was a shimmering palace of velvet dbangs, warm amber lights, and the faint perfume of luxury. Laughter rolled in with them — loose, reckless, the kind that belonged to people running from something inside themselves. Kunal and Rachika sank into the plush sofa, their easy rhythm growing deeper, almost magnetic. Their laughter mixed with clinking glasses — two people rediscovering sparks they didn’t know they needed. Meghna, meanwhile, had settled opposite Hemant, eyes unfocused yet strangely sharp. There was a glow in them — not the intoxication, but a hunger. Calculation. Victory.


Hemant watched carefully. Her laughs were too loud. Her smiles too free. Her proximity too deliberate. And then the thoughts started clicking together. Every sudden girls’ night. Every excuse Sonarika threw. Every time Vikram entered the picture — Meghna’s name lingered in the background like a stain. She was everywhere in the lies. Like a ghost behind a curtain. She played a role… didn’t she? The veneer of friendship. The harmless girl-gang confidante. The soft-spoken feminist rebel.

No. This woman sitting in front of him — glass in hand, eyes burning hotter than the liquor — she was not that girl. She was something else entirely. And Michael King’s instincts whispered inside him, sharp, cold, predatory:

'She’s a puppeteer, Hemant. A player in the dark. Recognize your kind'

The truth-and-dare game lost steam as they didn't make it spicy. Laughter flattened. The night wanted sharper games.

Meghna’s fingers brushed a chess set on the table.

"Let’s play"

Rachika giggled, too far gone. 

"I’ll watch… or sleep on the floor… whichever comes first"

Hemant sat. Calm. Centered. Eyes narrowed like a hawk studying prey. Meghna smirked confidently — that same spark she always had when she believed she controlled the room. But tonight, Hemant wasn’t the mellow man she remembered. Tonight, the king was awake.

The King vs. The Puppet Master

Moves began — sharp, quick. Meghna’s queen danced early, aggressive, claiming the board like a throne. Hemant moved slowly. Deliberately. His king stepped forward. Meghna scoffed.

"Oh, come on. Already giving up the weakest piece?"

Her voice flirted around superiority, feminism, control.

"The queen" she said 

"Is the most powerful and the main player. This game reeks of patriarchy. Nothing can beat the queen"

Hemant’s laughter cut her mid-sentence — controlled, lethal.

"You misunderstand chess… and life" he murmured.

His king advanced again. Not fleeing — challenging.

"Everyone on this board is expendable except one" 

He continued softly, voice sinking like a blade in water.

"Not the queen. Not the knight , not any other warrior"

His eyes lifted and pinned her.

"The King is not a piece. He is the whole game"

Meghna’s breath trembled.

"He doesn’t hide behind anyone. He strikes , but you would never see that coming"

Her queen fell. Then her knight. Then her bishop. One move at a time — precision dismantling ego.

Check.

Check.

Check.

Meghna’s confidence cracked. Her veneer slipped. Hemant leaned in, voice quiet, devastating:

"Even when the queen dies, the war continues. Because everyone fights for the King. And the game only ends when the King wins!"

Final move.

Checkmate.

Meghna stared — stunned, disarmed, captivated by the ruthless clarity she’d never seen in him before. At that moment , she wasn't just defeated , she was meticulously submitted by his mental dominance. Hemant was no more anything like Javed , he was something she felt challenged by. A man who was playing with her power fantasy , pushing back her dominance.

Something primal surged in her — not passion, but weakness masquerading as it. The spell of power.

She lunged.

Her lips crashed into his — desperate, claiming, impulsive. The room froze. Kunal blinked. Rachika smirked. Every truth unspoken in the air shattered into chaos. Hemant did not kiss back. Did not move. Did not breathe. He simply absorbed the betrayal-echo of another woman’s lips, his eyes open, staring through her — analyzing still.

Meghna’s hand gripped his. She dragged him toward the second bedroom and locked the door. Behind them, Kunal whispered in shock,

"…did that just…?"

Rachika’s smile curled slow and wicked.

"Well… your friend is occupied. Why waste a night?"

Before Kunal could gather thought, she kissed him — and like dominoes, two paths of recklessness sealed shut behind two doors. As the sounds of clothes moving and sheets spreading echoed off to the main room. One thing was certain , whatever happens tonight , whether it is something destiny wanted to be or something catastrophic. None of their lives will ever be the same again!


PAST MIDNIGHT AT THE APARTMENT.


Karan and Mohit slept together in his room along with a deep in sleep Anjali in the adjoining bed as Tara turned off the light and calmly closed the door. As she walked to the main living room , she looked at the photos of the family on the showcases. She looked at each image with a silent stare but her eyes were locked onto Hemant. As she kept on staring , her phone rang.

Tara took the phone and trembled a little as she realized who was calling. She walked into the balcony as she attended the call.

"Hello"

On the other end of the call , miles away from Mumbai. Standing at the lawn of the Qamarvan Palace , was Daraaksh Zarir.

"Congratulations on the primary mission completion miss Tara. I will admit I had my doubts of Michael catching you"

"He is not Michael anymore Sultan. Believe it or not , he is a mellowed out version of what you believe"

"That is the first mistake Tara , underestimating this Hemant. Micheal King is the real him , and he is still breathes in that mask called Hemant Kumar"

"Well you're job is halfway done , his wife is moving away from the city to Goa , there is no hope for a reconciliation between them"

"That is good , now its the perfect time for you to earn his trust , care and attention. Do whatever you can , but at the end , have him rely on you to the point he will see you as a support"

"And then what?"

"Then , we'll start slicing. One by one , we will take out everything near and dear to him , save Karan for last. I have some special plans for that sweet boy"

Tara with a cold stare to the night sky responded.

"Jo hukum Sultan. Your ace has entered the game!!"

                                                                                                                                                                                                   END OF CHAPTER 26 

     WTF JUST HAPPENED ?

[DeanWinchester00007]

"But you're making me fall in love with you all over again Mister!!!"

Oh  , These kind of lines hold so much weight and warmth  .

I hope this remains constant through out the story . 


Wonderful update . Worth the wait . Again a chapter with all the elements perfectly blend . 

One More PERFECT UPDATE . 10/10 

Harry , Thanks . 


( Will write more about the update )

[Munda007]

Tara is the boat for Sona to come to her dock back again.

[RCF]

Story taking unexpected twists and wonderfully written plot...Cream of the cake are the conversations and emotional backdrop on every sequence.

Yet felt there is some leak on the plot, some of the traits of the characters are going sideways maybe on purpose and have a reason behind it but felt it as losing the grip.

1. Sonarika is steady in her therapy, has clarity on her thoughts about Vikram and still she danced with Vikram on right moment knowing Hemanth could come any time. Felt unnecessary and out of plot, She should have avoided it as natural flow but plot needed it so it is there..

2. Hemanth and Tamanna affair or rather relationship I would call is more pure and felt hopeful for the future, the dialogues written between them felt natural and showed what future could hold if they unite at the end, Yet we see Hemanth dillydallying with other woman behind her back, Not that he has promised commitment or something to Tamanna but it didn't feel right when he shares so much emotional connect with Tammana when he is with her but fucks every woman around him when time presents opportunity. Now we have to see him with Meghana lol, that's the worst of it all...Its disgusting.

3. Hemanth who can see every one also has seen the true nature of Meghana, He knew she is a puppet in some one's game, only he thinks she is the puppet used by Sonarika for her lies, he failed to see the real Meghana who made Sonarika puppet all this time until recently. Next episode will tell if Hemanth and Meghana forged any relationship inside that bedroom but if they do it would feel wrong on so many levels. This could be one sin he probably wouldn't be able to wash eventually.

4. Hemanth's growth as a force in the city is remarkable and Sonarika watching stunned on leaving such a man who fought so hard for his family is so satisfying. Yet I felt this dialogue is some how wrong
"I was late in seeing what you’ve become, Hemant. But I see it now. You’ve built something far greater than any of us imagined. I wish I could’ve seen this version of you… when we still had a chance" How does that matter?
Whether we have old Sonarika or new Sonarika, your feelings shouldn't change based on the success of your partner. I feel she loves him no matter what, Whether with her mistake with Vikram or not, Whether with a stick in her brain impacting her hormones or not, she should be able to see Hemanth for who he is, if she truly loves him, I feel that dialogue some how contradicts her thoughts.

5. Tara will definitely become a plot where Sonarika will be the one to expose her and save her family.

6. Hemanth's empire has grown, his legacy now blended with MK's power as protection is at its peak or on its way to the peak. We need similar story for Sonarika at Vatika to show her might, make that company global on her operational skills and how she would turn it around to match Hemanth if at all that happens to be the plot, that would be very interesting. I can foresee Sreelekha making Sonarika her heir to the empire seeing her passion for the plants.

7. One thing woman will never survive is when her own friend sleeps with her husband, Want to see when Sonarika will punch Meghana on her face.

Overall excellent episode with some character deviations that I did not like still never boring to read and always make you crave for more.

~RCF

[Munda007]

I agree.. I think Sona will not get Hemant unless she demands. She will have to fight and snatch him

[Harry Jordan]

Story taking unexpected twists and wonderfully written plot...Cream of the cake are the conversations and emotional backdrop on every sequence.

Overall excellent episode with some character deviations that I did not like still never boring to read and always make you crave for more.

~RCF

Glad that you loved it , will try to answer some of your issues without spoiling the future plots.

1.Sonarika willing to dance with Vikram was basically her own way of evaluation of herself. When she was with him in the past , their dance was their prime connecting factor. But now , she no longer feels that connection because even in that moment , she thought about Hemant , the clarity in her makes her see how lost she was in her affair days with Vikram. It was needed to keep the drama going.

2.Hemant's "relationship" with Tamanna is basically a driving factor in Hemant not completely transitioning into Michael King. In a way , Tamanna is there in his life to remind him that not all of Hemant was a failure. In a way , Hemant behaves this way is because his own mind is making up things which is not true , based on Sonarika's actions in the past , his nightmare is bascially a forced kind of unwilling cuckoldery. Sonarika and Vikram's relationship mocks him , and his mind makes false assumptions that he was never a worthy man in bed for his wife. Which is why Tamanna is there to drive to the point that he is not at all a wimp. Plus the flamboyant side of Michael King is taking over him , which is why he is open to being physical with many women , in one of the flashback showed Hemant having a threesome with Ashnoor AND Kira , something Ashnoor initiated. It kind of shows Hemant had done adventurous things with sex in the past. In short , that loyal , caring Hemant is gone , he is more stubborn , more precise and now more open to sexual things unlike his past. In short , if Sonarika never cheated , she would be pregnant for the fourth time with Hemant LOL!

3.Actually Hemant sees Meghna as the puppet master here not as Sonarika's puppet. Because one thing he knew always about Meghna is that she was always over protective about Sonarika. She has lashed out when Sonarika was targetted , but here she herself agreed to Hemant's trash talk about Sonarika which created a doubt in Hemant. And while recapping Sonarika's each lie made Hemant see the silent involvement of Meghna behind those lies. This also comes with Michael King's experience in the past , which is how Hemant deduces that Meghna is not who she seems to be. Now whether he sleeps with her , only time will tell. Because Hemant no longer feels any moral loyalty towards Sonarika and fucking Meghna isn't going to change that. However , whatever happens in that bedroom , will be the turning point of these characters the way forward.

4.Sonarika says that in a way to not annoy Hemant further. She has already confessed multiple times that she still loves him , hell she loves him way more than before now considering she sees her truth. In a way this is her coping mechanism , she is moving to Goa. The distance between them will be wider than before and she wants to cope with a life without him around her. Her words there was her way of accepting that her life forward might no longer involve him , and she is trying to accept that reality. But it will be hard as she is falling in love with him again.

5.Tara is the trump card in this story , she will be a key player in the narrative as she will play either a big role in bringing Hemant and Sonarika together or destroying Hemant piece by piece.

6.Precisely , Sonarika's goan arc is her redemption story. Just like how Hemant changed from his kind and calm nature , Sonarika will now transform to the woman she was supposed to be before her brain injury. And there will be an interesting arc happening in Goa with her which will push for a different side of Sonarika to be explored. In other words , both Hemant and Sonarika are changing thinking they are not meant for each other , but narratively will reveal they are more compatible than before. 

7.It will definitely be interesting , because Sonarika realizing Meghna's evil intention is yet to come. She is only cautious now as she is doubtful and has suspicions regarding Meghna's involvement in her life.

I am glad people liked it. I am more interested to see how the story deepens when Pranitha gets involved , Because since the hospital episode , she was mostly absent in the story. Pranitha's return to the story will start a different lifestyle in Hemant's life. Plus their "dynamic" is something I am quiet interested about as it will bring a different vibe to the story.

[RCF]

Glad that you loved it , will try to answer some of your issues without spoiling the future plots.

1. Yes that's what I thought as well, but at the extent of causing more pain to Hemanth this time knowingly. 

2. I understand all that, but my comment is not directed at Hemanth, its more towards Tamanna, she deserves a person who becomes her future and not some one who uses her to self evaluate his masculinity, I feel you should have used Pranitha for this would have been apt. She doesn't mind casual flings, Though Tamanna doesn't too when it comes to Hemanth as she has long buried crush on him..I feel Hemanth should have been more careful not to break her heart. Her comments in this chapter explains her thoughts clearly that she is definitely hopeful that one day Hemanth can become her husband and see both the kids together as family. Felt if that doesn't happen, she will be the one that becomes a pawn in the story used by Hemanth to survive Sonarika's betrayal.

3. Here also my comment is not to judge Hemanth, Its more I feel Meghna is definitely miles beneath him to even consider an intimate angle between them, If a guy like Hemanth sleeps with evil like Meghna then it will make him stoop to a level down than who he is as a person, Its nothing related to Sonarika or morals. 
Anyways I think he won't sleep with her, they might just become intimate for a while like Sandeep and Tamanna but might not go all the way. 

4. Understood, Still that dialogue made her sound like an opportunist which she is not but I get it, She is realizing now her mistakes. 

5. She is the Tripti Dimri of Animal, she definitely would help the real Ranbhir else the there is no point of someone to enter the story at this time just to die later with out purpose. 

6.Different kind of Sonarika, nice..I am guessing more aggressive kind of Sonarika which we saw that teached a lesson to Sandeep. It will be refreshing to see her side again but this time as a matured one not arrogant one. I am predicting her rise some how eventually will help Hemanth at critical phase and both the paths will merge. 
Just couldn't see plants and war equipment how they collide but can see her helping Hemanth behind the shadows. 

7.  Yes, it will be one arc every one probably eagerly waiting to see. 

Overall very well written chapter, It got us all hooked now so keep your promise of one chapter every weekend :) 

~RCF

[Harry Jordan]

Overall very well written chapter, It got us all hooked now so keep your promise of one chapter every weekend :) 

~RCF

1. It was needed to setup his distance towards Sonarika. Now his new nightmares is about her decisions and making up false imaginations about her.

2. I get your take on Tamanna. But I believe the details were already there of them never being serious with each other. Tamanna did say she would love to see him as a husband , but she cannot wholely because she will always have a mental connection with Dev due to Shraddha. What I see with their relation is both of them fixing each other up. Tamanna gets to be more open and eventually be open for a new relationship. And Hemant gets to see that not all of Hemant was a failure and that he can try another attempt in a peaceful life , but he doubts it as Michael is all the more a part of him and he cannot find peace unless he puts Michael King to rest for good.

3. Well the approach is more focused on Meghna rather than Hemant. Meghna is the one who initiates is because she no longer see the weak and calm Hemant that Meghna gets reminded of her past broken love Javed. Now , Hemant is no longer that man , he has transformed to a man willing to push back her power fantasy. Meghna for a dominant woman finally faces a man that is willing to go face to face. In some Psychological aspect , women who are dominant forms a deep infactuation towards a man who will challenge their power game. We will see Hemant's reaction and what transpired in that bedroom soon!

5. Nice observation but she might bring some surprises in the future!

6. Actually Sonarika's arc will be somewhat like Kangana Ranaut's Queen , where she goes to her honeymoon to find her truth. Sonarika's story in Goa will be the catalyst to become the woman she was supposed to be. Ragini and other interesting characters will bring an interesting dynamic there , and not to forget , Vikram is not exactly done in this story. His approach will be different , and this time their interactions will also be different than they usually had. But all the more , Vatika and her new job will be a new beginning for Sonarika , one where she taps into her true potential and becomes a woman that is true to herself. In many aspects , the queen Hemant wanted her to be!

7. Their feud will eventually begin , but the battle will commence some time later.


I am already halfway done with the next chapter , so no delays next week , I will most likely focus on posting chapters on weekends as that is the more comfortable time for readers.

[Demeter]

It is another first-class chapter that combines drama, emotion, eroticism and intrigue, which is why I would like to congratulate 
the author and thank him for his work.

My friend ‘RCF’ has touched on a few points in his review. I would like to expand on these. I don't want to digress too much.

* Instead of dancing with Vikram, she should perhaps have danced a farewell dance with her CEO. 
She had been ‘indirectly’ warned by Hemant when she invited him to the ball. But no, she has to act like a bull in a china shop again and leave a 
‘shambles’ with disastrous consequences in her wake. 
None of this makes sense to me. Mouni and Ragini explicitly warned her not to meet with Vikram during therapy. 
This raises the question of how someone can act so recklessly and naively.

* Another issue that is causing me concern is the matter surrounding Tara.Given his past and his lifestyle up to now, Hemant shouldhave been more 
cautious and prudent. After all, that's how we've perceived and seen him up to now. 
His family – especially his son – is more important to him than anything else in the world, and if he hadn't been able to find out more about Tara, he wouldn't 
have been able to examine her life more closely, because after all, he lets her live with them in their house and entrusts his son to her care.
He is not so blind, unless he knows about her double role and plans to use her to expose the masterminds and the criminal organisation in order to 
destroy them once and for all.
Perhaps we will learn more about the background that we do not yet know in the coming chapters.

* Although Hemant only spent a few moments with Meghna at the table, he was able to recognise her as a devious and dubious ‘puppeteer’, but still 
goes to her room with her.
In my opinion, a sexual encounter with her would bring him down to a level that he himself finds despicable and abhorrent. 
However, it may be that he wants to extract certain information from Meghna and therefore decided to go to the room with her.

Exciting, turbulent and highly interesting events await us fans in the coming chapters.
I am full of anticipation and can hardly wait to read them...


Smell it, but don't tear it off
Demeter