Adultery Love Sex And War : Age Of Darkness

[Harry Jordan]

So , here it is dear Readers. After some trials and traumatic health complications. I am somewhat healed , though not fully. Regardless in the time of healing , I was able to work on the next chapter briefly and I am happy to announce to you that Chapter 28 will be coming online in the next 24 hours. This chapter was really a wonderful experience in writing for me because this chapter will heavily focus on Hemant and his character's dynamic. Sonarika is taking a back seat and we will be witnessing Hemant's character going through a shift as he is haunted by his new lifestyle changes and new nightmares. In a way , we will be seeing Hemant's descend to madness as Sonarika's separation from his life triggering Michael King to slowly take over him. We will see his innocence and his idealism twist and see Michael taking the driver seat in his life. Plus there is a lengthy sex scene in this chapter to spice things up. But at the same time , we will see Hemant is still holding on to that life as a thread but this is the moment where the sanity of Hemant is mutating and Michael in blending in transforming Hemant Kumar into a force of reckoning. This chapter is special to me because this is where Hemant's purpose and Michael's revenge interlap. A point in the story where Hemant's motivation and his drive to put Michael King to rest. But to do that , he must finish something that Michael left incomplete. And so a New Hemant Kumar is born , someone who is a blend of Hemant's observation and Michael's brutality. And with Operation Jewel Thief commencing in this chapter , we will see Hemant moving into a more serious territory. New enemies will be born and different alliances will be made as War is about to knock on the door!

Wait and Read in the next 24 hours as the story evolves into a war that will be brutal and catastrophic!

        From Your's Truly

  HARRY JORDAN   

[DeanWinchester00007]

So , here it is dear Readers. After some trials and traumatic health complications. I am somewhat healed , though not fully. Regardless in the time of healing , I was able to work on the next chapter briefly and I am happy to announce to you that Chapter 28 will be coming online in the next 24 hours. This chapter was really a wonderful experience in writing for me because this chapter will heavily focus on Hemant and his character's dynamic. Sonarika is taking a back seat and we will be witnessing Hemant's character going through a shift as he is haunted by his new lifestyle changes and new nightmares. In a way , we will be seeing Hemant's descend to madness as Sonarika's separation from his life triggering Michael King to slowly take over him. We will see his innocence and his idealism twist and see Michael taking the driver seat in his life. Plus there is a lengthy sex scene in this chapter to spice things up. But at the same time , we will see Hemant is still holding on to that life as a thread but this is the moment where the sanity of Hemant is mutating and Michael in blending in transforming Hemant Kumar into a force of reckoning. This chapter is special to me because this is where Hemant's purpose and Michael's revenge interlap. A point in the story where Hemant's motivation and his drive to put Michael King to rest. But to do that , he must finish something that Michael left incomplete. And so a New Hemant Kumar is born , someone who is a blend of Hemant's observation and Michael's brutality. And with Operation Jewel Thief commencing in this chapter , we will see Hemant moving into a more serious territory. New enemies will be born and different alliances will be made as War is about to knock on the door!

Wait and Read in the next 24 hours as the story evolves into a war that will be brutal and catastrophic!

        From Your's Truly

  HARRY JORDAN   

 

I am so excited for this , Just reading this update about the story gave me little goosebumps . 

 

Brutal and Catastrophic!

That is exactly What I was waiting for     


I hope we get some back story of Hemant too /

For Once I wanna see the Brutality of MICHAEL KING , That Pure rage , Blood and Gore . 

       

       MICHAEL KING 

     Just too much heat

       His walk is godly

      The throne is his

  He got the looks

     Certified mobster
   He got the swag
       Moves like a rockstar

Recently , I watched few ANIME including MONSTER, CHAINSAW MAN , and MOVIE REZE ARC . I said it before and saying it again , This whole story has so much potential to be A MANGA . 

And Also saw this movie called EASTERN PROMISES .The movie could be one of backstory of MICHAEL KING . If I remember correctly Since MICHAEL spends some time in EUROPE . He must have encountered the EASTERN EUROPEAN/RUSSIAN MOBSTER TOO . I mean TRIAD were fucking lunatic and dangerous but THE RUSSIAN MOBSTER have that Menacing AURA and RUTHLESSNESS making them perfect antagonist for MICHAEL KING . 


and I HOPE YOU MAKE FULL RECOVERY SOON . Please look after your health .

So TAKE CARE BUDDY   



Get Ready Everyone .............. 

Command

 EXECUTE :-  OPERATION JEWEL THEIF .

TEASER  

Hemant Driving 

Sad , Alone , Missing some one and His eyes are heavy 

CAR RADIO , PLAYING THE SONG 

YE DIL NA HOTA BECHARA , KADAM NA HOTE AWARA , JO KOI KHUBSOORAT APNA HUM SAFAR HOTA ........

hahahahahahhav, an EASTER EGG 

I APOLOGIZE for this  

[Speedy21]

Hope it's worth the Wait

[Munda007]

So , here it is dear Readers. After some trials and traumatic health complications. I am somewhat healed , though not fully. Regardless in the time of healing , I was able to work on the next chapter briefly and I am happy to announce to you that Chapter 28 will be coming online in the next 24 hours. This chapter was really a wonderful experience in writing for me because this chapter will heavily focus on Hemant and his character's dynamic. Sonarika is taking a back seat and we will be witnessing Hemant's character going through a shift as he is haunted by his new lifestyle changes and new nightmares. In a way , we will be seeing Hemant's descend to madness as Sonarika's separation from his life triggering Michael King to slowly take over him. We will see his innocence and his idealism twist and see Michael taking the driver seat in his life. Plus there is a lengthy sex scene in this chapter to spice things up. But at the same time , we will see Hemant is still holding on to that life as a thread but this is the moment where the sanity of Hemant is mutating and Michael in blending in transforming Hemant Kumar into a force of reckoning. This chapter is special to me because this is where Hemant's purpose and Michael's revenge interlap. A point in the story where Hemant's motivation and his drive to put Michael King to rest. But to do that , he must finish something that Michael left incomplete. And so a New Hemant Kumar is born , someone who is a blend of Hemant's observation and Michael's brutality. And with Operation Jewel Thief commencing in this chapter , we will see Hemant moving into a more serious territory. New enemies will be born and different alliances will be made as War is about to knock on the door!

Wait and Read in the next 24 hours as the story evolves into a war that will be brutal and catastrophic!

        From Your's Truly

  HARRY JORDAN   

24hrs passed

[Speedy21]

A perfect click bait it's seems ..... perfectly excited ??????

[Harry Jordan]

Okay WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED TO THIS SITE......I spend the last few hours trying to upload the chapter and every time I clicked it popped into a different page. This never happened before , did the site go through some updates or something? I am trying it right now again as I think the site has returned to normal so let me see. Chapter 28 on the way!

[Harry Jordan]

                                                                                                                                                                     CHAPTER 28

FEW HOURS LATER AT THE APARTMENT



Hemant entered the apartment in silence.

The door clicked shut behind him with a finality that felt heavier than any argument they had ever had. The house, once filled with footsteps, laughter, arguments, music, and chaos, now felt vast and hollow—like a museum where echoes lived longer than people.

He stood still in the living room.

This was the same space where Karan had taken his first steps, where Sonarika had once danced barefoot while cooking, where Anjali had scolded him for being too rigid with rules. This was the space where birthdays were celebrated, where fights happened and were forgiven, where love once lived without conditions.

Now, it was only him.

Soon, even this would be gone. The Silver Beach Villa in Juhu waited for him like a monument to his success—but what use was a dream house built for a family that no longer existed? The new house would be grand, ambitious, cold—just like the man he had become.

This apartment, however, was still warm with ghosts.

Hemant slowly walked through the rooms. The dining table where Sonarika used to sit scrolling through work updates. The balcony where they once stood together during the first heavy monsoon after their marriage. The place where they sat and discussed their day. Karan’s room—half empty now, his toys neatly packed, his laughter still trapped in the walls.

And finally—The bedroom. The place where trust was built… and broken. He sat on the edge of the bed, staring at nothing.

She’s really gone now…

Delhi was only the beginning.
After that would be Goa.
After that would be Vikram.

For the first time, Hemant allowed himself to imagine it fully—not in flashes of jealousy, not in rage—but in cold, cruel clarity. Sonarika and Vikram in Goa. No hiding. No guilt. No fear of being caught. No marriage standing in between them.

Exotic beaches. Wild nights. A Thrilling future.

They would laugh freely there. Touch freely. Love freely. Have sex freely. And he would no longer exist in that world. He realized something that made his chest tighten painfully—

He was now her past.
Vikram would be her present.
And soon… her future.

Hemant had Karan. He had Anjali. He had YOD Industries. He had power, fear, money, influence. But he was losing the one thing he never thought he could—

Her.

For months, he had lived on anger. On betrayal. On revenge. On pride.

But now… as the apartment swallowed him whole…For the first time in months—

He cried.

Silent tears fell onto his hands as he clenched his fists tightly. Not loud. Not dramatic. Just helpless.

Despite everything she had done…Despite the betrayal…Despite the destruction…

He still wanted her.

Then the memory struck him again—

The airport. The sudden run. The tight embrace. The kiss.

So real. So desperate. So alive. Her words echoed again:

“No matter what… I will always love you”

A small, foolish flame lit up in his heart. What if… one day… she does come back? But fear crushed that hope almost instantly. What if that kiss was only goodbye? Hemant stood and walked to the wardrobe. As he opened it, something soft slipped out and fell to the floor. A faded pink salwar. One she used to wear years ago. Simple. Modest. Ordinary. But to him—it was everything. He picked it up slowly. Held it. Pressed it against his chest.

And this time… he broke.

His shoulders shook as he finally allowed himself to mourn—not just the marriage, but the love story they once were. The laughter. The dreams. The forever that never came.

He whispered softly into the empty room:

"Everything has changed…"

And for the first time, Hemant Kumar—The feared industrialist. The rising tycoon. The hardened strategist—

Cried like a broken man in the ruins of his own heart.



FEW DAYS LATER AT THE SILVER BEACH VILLA , JUHU


The convoy rolled silently into the private coastal stretch of Juhu, the sound of waves crashing faintly beyond towering palm silhouettes. The gates of the Silver Beach Villa parted with a slow mechanical hum, as if the house itself was inhaling Hemant into its vast emptiness.

Tara stepped out first, surveying the wide open driveway, the sea-facing elevation, the glass balconies that caught the sunlight like sharp blades. Hemant followed, his movements slow, weighted—like a man stepping into a dream that had already died.

A hollow breath escaped his lips.

"This was supposed to be our place…" he murmured faintly, more to himself than to Tara.

"Our morning tea on that balcony. Karan running barefoot on the deck. Sonarika complaining about the sea wind tangling her hair…"

He stepped inside.

The villa was breathtaking—double-height ceilings, contemporary luxury, glass walls opening straight to the ocean. The smell of fresh wood, new upholstery, untouched corridors. Everything was perfect.

Too perfect.

But the perfection felt soulless.

Tara followed at a distance as Hemant walked through the living area, running his fingers along surfaces that had never felt warmth. He stopped at the master bedroom entrance—its massive balcony facing the sea, curtains gently fluttering in the night breeze.

"No more shared winters" he whispered.

"No more stolen warmth"

His jaw tightened.

"She’ll create all those moments again… just not with me"

In his mind, Goa ignited—sunlit beaches, open freedom, Vikram beside her, laughter replacing the silence Hemant now carried. A different life. A different man.

"She will choose him....like before....like always....I will forever be her second best" he said quietly.


The silence in Silver Beach Villa was a physical thing, a heavy, suffocating blanket that Hemant carried from room to empty room. Each perfect, custom-fitted surface was a monument to a future that had curdled, a life that had been promised and then snatched away. His athletic frame, usually so sure and strong, felt hollowed out, a shell echoing with the ghost of his family’s laughter. Their laughter.


He stood in the doorway of the special room. The room he’d designed for her. For them. The air hummed with the latent energy of the vibrating bed, waiting for a command that would never come. His piercing eyes, once full of passion for his wife, now scanned the sterile perfection with a bitter ache. He thumbed the remote for the projector.


The screen flickered to life.


The footage was grainy, intimate. A much younger Sonarika, her face flushed, her pregnant belly round and undeniable, was barely holding the camcorder steady. The angle was personal, erotic. She was gasping, moaning, her free hand guiding Hemant’s head to her full, heavy breast. His suckling was audible, desperate. Sonarika’s cries were raw, primal. 

"Mhmmm… drink it all, my love…."


"Come on honey… don’t be shy"

Sonarika's recorded voice purred, a sound that used to ignite him. On screen, his past self, eager and adoring, nuzzled against the swell of her belly before his mouth found one of her full, heavy breasts. The video was intimate, raw. It captured every detail: the way her head fell back, the long, throaty moan that escaped her lips as he suckled, the absolute surrender on her face as her milk let down for him. He remembered the sweet, warm taste, the profound intimacy of fulfilling her deepest kink, of being her sole source of pleasure.


The memory was a knife twist. Because now, there was another man. 

Vikram.


The image on the projector blurred, the past melting into the vicious present of his imagination. The hum of the villa’s air conditioner faded, replaced by the rhythmic crash of waves. The sterile walls dissolved into a vast expanse of sun-bleached sand and turquoise sea.

Goa.

She was there. Just as he’d seen in the stolen Bali photos. Lying on a towel, the red bikini she wore on the photos barely containing the lush curves of her milfy body. The sun worshipped her smooth, glowing skin. She was a vision of perfect, sensual peace.

Then, a figure emerged from the water. Vikram. Water slewed down his muscular, chiseled chest and toned abdomen. His trunks clung low on his hips, and a confident, alluring smirk was plastered on his face as his eyes locked onto Sonarika. Hemant’s jaw tightened. He’d seen Vikram’s social media. He had an imagination and belief on what that man was packing, and a sick, jealous part of him was certain that was the real reason his marriage had crumbled.

Sonarika pushed her sunglasses onto her head. Even from this distance, Hemant could see her answering smile, a flash of white teeth. He couldn’t hear the words, but he didn’t need to. He saw her lips form a flirty remark. Saw Vikram’s retort as he closed the distance, his body blocking the sun as he loomed over her.

Their mouths crashed together, not with tenderness, but with a hungry, desperate passion that made his own old recording seem like a polite dance. Vikram’s hands were everywhere, gripping her waist, tangling in her hair, sliding down to palm her ass through the flimsy fabric of her bikini bottoms. Sonarika arched into him, her hands roaming over his broad back, pulling him closer, demanding more.

Then his fingers found the tie of her bikini top. A quick, practiced tug and it loosened. He peeled the fabric away, and her full, beautiful breasts spilled into the sunlight, the nipples already hard peaks. Vikram didn’t hesitate. He lowered his head and took one into his mouth, sucking hard.

A strangled sound escaped Sonarika’s throat. It was a brutal parody of his cherished memory. But Sonarika’s reaction… it was different. Her back bowed off the towel, a guttural, appreciative moan ripped from her that was louder, more primal than any sound she’d ever made for him. Her fingers clawed at Vikram’s shoulders, urging him on. 

"Yes baby...… oh god Vikram yessss.....…"

His trunks were gone in an instant. Her bikini bottoms were ripped aside. There was no preamble, no gentle easing. Vikram mounted her, his powerful frame covering hers completely, and in one brutal, possessive thrust, he was inside her.

"AAAHHH!!!"

Sonarika’s scream wasn’t one of pain. It was a cry of pure, unadulterated ecstasy, swallowed by the roar of the ocean. 

"Vikram.....YOU ARE AMAZING!!!!!"

He set a punishing rhythm, fucking her hard and deep into the yielding sand, each drive of his hips punctuated by a grunt of effort. The sight was devastating. The woman who had built a family with him, who had shared his bed and his life, was now abandoningly herself to another man, her body rocking under his, her legs locking around his waist to take him even deeper.

"hghh...hgh....I love you Sonarika....hghh...gghh....hhghh.....hggh" 

Vikram growled into her neck, his voice thick with lust and something more terrifyingly genuine.

Hemant’s heart stopped. And then she said it. Between ragged gasps and cries of pleasure, her voice broke. 

"Ahh...ahhh...ahhh.....I love you too…..ahhhh....I love you…ahhh....ahhhh..."

The words were a physical blow. Vikram groaned, his thrusts becoming more erratic, more frantic. 

"We’ll make our own family here. Goa is our world now. Our haven"

"Ahhh.....Yes Vikram!" she cried out, her nails digging into his skin as she met his frantic rhythm. 

"It’s all for us...ahh....ahhhh"

They were climbing, soaring towards the edge together. Sonarika was chanting his name now, a desperate mantra. 

"Vikram...ahh....Vikram…you're ripping me apart....ahhh...ahhhhh"

He grunted, his body tensing. 

"You’re mine. All mine"

He was picking up speed, his body slapping against hers, his ball sac smacking against her ass. Now Sonarika had her arms wrapped around his back, and her face buried against his neck. Vikram had let his whole body down on hers, letting Sonarika bear his weight as he hammered into her. Vikram's big shaft pistoning in and out of his soon to be ex-wife's red and dripping pussy.

"Aaaaah!" 

Sonarika cried out. She gripped Vikram's back and dug her heels into his legs as her orgasm hit her. Arching her back, she let out another cry. Vikram was right behind her, giving her two more hard strokes, and driving his cock in her to the base as he unloaded his cum into her. They lay there, panting like dogs, the sweat shining on their bodies. 

Her eyes, glazed with a pleasure Hemant had never given her, locked directly onto his. She was seeing him. Seeing his pain, his devastation.

The pleasure on her face cooled into something else. Something cold and final.

"I’m sorry, Hemant" 

She said, her voice clear and sharp as broken glass even amidst her ragged breaths. 

"But he’s a better man than you in every way. I love him now. Not you"

The rage was instant, a white-hot inferno that erupted from the core of his being. A guttural roar tore from his throat. He clenched his fist, every muscle in his athletic body coiling to strike out at the vision, to shatter it, to make her take the words back—

His knuckles connected not with flesh, but with the cold, unyielding teakwood floor of his villa.

The Goa sun vanished. The sound of the sea cut off. He returned to reality , standing in the very room that represented his heartbreak.

He was on his knees, the echo of his own cry bouncing off the empty walls. The projector still cast the soft, intimate light of the old recording, the ghost of a moan hanging in the air. The weight of it all—the betrayal, the loss, the cruel, detailed vision—crashed down upon him. His body folded, shoulders shaking as the hot, furious tears broke free. He was alone.

For a moment, his hands trembled. But he stopped crying moments later. Now—something colder settled behind his eyes. Behind him, Tara watched everything.

Silently.

Unseen.

Tara observed the change. She turned away, stepping into the edge of the balcony shadow, her phone sliding smoothly into her palm.

She dialed.

"Daraaksh… we’ve arrived"

A low voice responded from the other end.

"So the king has moved to his Fortress"

Tara’s eyes drifted over the open shoreline beyond the villa, the sea water stretching endlessly.

"Yes. The villa is exposed on the coastal side. Open beach. Minimal civilian surveillance"

There was a brief pause. Then Daraaksh spoke carefully, thoughtfully.

"Do not mistake openness for weakness. That beach is not a gap… it’s a funnel"

Tara’s brows furrowed.

"The law enforcement perimeter ends exactly at the main gate. The ocean side is untouched"

"Exactly" Daraaksh replied.

"He wants us to think it’s unguarded"

Tara finally looked back at Hemant—now standing still at the balcony edge, staring at the sea like a man mourning and waiting at the same time.

"Michael King built this villa" Daraaksh continued.

"Not Hemant Kumar"

A slow realization crept into Tara’s expression.

"This place isn’t Hemant's dream home anymore. No longer his refuge" she whispered.

"It’s bait. A trap set by Michael King!"

"Yes" Daraaksh said quietly.

"And he’s daring us to bite"

The call ended. Tara slipped her phone away. For the first time since she’d entered Hemant’s life, she no longer saw just a grieving husband or a broken lover. She saw a strategist hiding behind sorrow. 

She saw Michael King, awake.

And moving his chessboard silently.

                                                                                                                                                                              (CHAPTER TO BE CONTD)

[Harry Jordan]

                                                                                                                                                                            (CHAPTER CONTD)

ONE MORNING



The world swam into focus with a sickening lurch. Hemant’s head pounded, a dull ache behind his eyes. He wasn't in his bed. The salt-tinged air was wrong—thicker, heavier, laced with the scent of frangipani instead of the familiar urban brine of Mumbai. He pushed himself up, sheets tangled around his legs, and stared at the unfamiliar french doors leading to a balcony. Beyond, a coastline curved, wild and palm-fringed. Goa.

His heart stuttered.

He swung his legs out, the cool marble floor shocking his bare feet. He turned, and his breath caught. The photos. They were on the wall beside a dresser. Sonarika, her laughter caught in a frozen moment, her head thrown back. And Vikram, his arm possessively around her waist, both of them sun-kissed and smiling in some beachside shack. The same photo from Vikram’s Instagram, the one Hemant had stared at until his vision blurred. It was here. Mocking him. A monument to his failure.

A low, feminine giggle drifted from deeper within the villa. Her laugh. A sound that once lit up his world now sent a spear of ice through his gut. He moved as if pulled by a sinister string, his feet silent on the floor. The hallway opened into a spacious living area, and beyond that, an open gallery faced the roaring sea. And there he was.

Vikram.

Lounging in a low-slung chair, his legs propped on the gallery railing, wearing nothing but a pair of tight red boxers. The same arrogant, relaxed posture from the Bali picture. He was gazing at the horizon, a satisfied sigh leaving his lips as a small smile played on them. Hemant stood frozen, but Vikram showed no reaction. He was a ghost here.

The click of a door. Hemant’s head snapped to the right.

The bathroom door opened, and steam billowed out, carrying her scent—jasmine and vanilla. Sonarika stepped out, a vision that shattered him anew. She wore only a large, crumpled linen shirt, clearly Vikram’s. It drowned her frame, the hem brushing her mid-thigh, but the damp fabric clung to every curve, outlining the swell of her breasts, the peak of her nipples, the dip of her waist. Her dark hair was wet, trailing over her shoulders. A soft, sated smile was on her lips, her eyes fixed with adoration on the man on the gallery.

She walked right past Hemant, close enough to touch, and didn’t even glance his way.

"Still seeing stars from last night" she murmured, her voice husky as she approached Vikram.

Vikram turned, his smile widening. 

"Is that so?"

She leaned into him, and he effortlessly pulled her onto his lap, her legs straddling him. The shirt rode up, exposing the smooth skin of her thighs. 

"Mmm. I can still feel you" she whispered, nuzzling his neck. 

"I can still feel your cum inside me. I might be risking a pregnancy, you know"

Vikram’s hands slid under the shirt, palms smoothing over her bare back. 

"It’s not a risk, Sonarika. It’s a promise. I want my seed to grow in you. I want to see you round with our child"

Hemant’s knees threatened to buckle. He watched, invisible and ignored, as his wife settled more comfortably on her lover’s lap, a intimate shift of her hips.

"And Karan?" Sonarika asked, a trace of hesitation in her voice.

"He’s part of you, so he’s welcome. But a child… our child…"

Vikram’s voice dropped to a possessive rumble. 

"That will bind you to me in a way nothing else can"

Sonarika laughed, a low, thrilling sound. 

"You did more than a decent job last night if that was your plan"

"The plan" Vikram said, his hands tightening on her 

"Isn’t done yet"

In one fluid motion, he stood, holding her easily in that straddling position, her legs wrapped around his waist. He carried her, her laughter mixing with the crash of waves, away from the gallery and towards the bedroom. Hemant followed, a prisoner to his own torment.

Vikram laid her gently on the wide, rumpled bed. He stood over her, his gaze hungry. With deliberate slowness, he began undoing the buttons of the shirt she wore. One. Two. Three. The fabric fell open, revealing her naked body, still glistening with droplets from her shower.

A low groan escaped Vikram. He didn’t wait. He descended, his mouth latching onto one peaked nipple, sucking it deep into the heat of his mouth.

"Mmmhmmmm!" 

Sonarika gasped, her back arching off the bed. Her hands flew to his head, fingers tangling in his hair. 

"Yes…suck it baby....I wish I was lactating right now!"

Hemant watched, nausea and rage warring in his throat, as Vikram worshipped her body. His mouth moved from one breast to the other, sucking, licking, nipping with a fervor Hemant had never possessed. Sonarika writhed beneath him, her whimpers and moans painting the air, a symphony of pleasure that was a dagger in Hemant’s soul. Vikram’s hands were everywhere—kneading her breasts, skimming down her ribs, gripping her hips.

Finally, Vikram stood, shucking his red boxers in one impatient motion.

Hemant’s eyes were dragged downward. His dick. Thick, heavy, and already fully erect, it stood proudly against Vikram’s abdomen. A brutal, undeniable truth. It was bigger. Much bigger. A hollow understanding opened inside Hemant. Of course.

Vikram positioned himself between Sonarika’s splayed thighs. He used the head of his cock to tease her, spreading the slickness he found there, circling her clit until she was begging, 

"Please, Vikram… now"

He pushed forward.

Hemant saw it in agonizing detail. The broad crown pressed, stretched, and then disappeared into her, inch by relentless inch. Sonarika’s groan was one of profound satisfaction, her head pressing back into the pillows, eyes fluttering shut. 

"Ahhhh… you stretch me so full…"

Then Vikram began to move. No gentle buildup. This was a claiming. He set a deep, punishing rhythm from the start, his hips pistoning, driving into her with a force that made the bedframe creak. Each thrust was a full-body commitment, his muscular back and buttocks clenching with the effort.

Slap. Slap. Slap. 

The wet, rhythmic sound of their joining filled the room, underscored by the relentless crash of his balls against her skin. Hemant could only stare, his own body cold, as his wife was taken with a raw, animalistic passion she had never shown him.

"Fuck, you feel incredible" 

Vikram grunted, his pace never faltering. Sonarika’s moans climbed higher, becoming screams that she bit into her own fist.

"hgghh.....hgghhh....It’s… it’s going to be a girl...hghhh" 

Vikram moaned, his thrusts becoming erratic, deeper.

"Ahhh.....ahhh....W-what?" Sonarika panted, her hips meeting his with equal ferocity.

"gghhhh....hhghh....The baby......Our baby.....It’ll be a girl....rrghhh....ghhhh"

"Ahh....No" Sonarika gasped, her eyes flying open to lock with his. 

"Mhmmm......ahhhmm......its a boy…....as handsome as his father.....ahhhh"

Vikram slammed into her, a final, brutal drive that buried him to the hilt. He held there, his entire body rigid. 

"hghh......hhggg......Doesn’t matter…whoever it is.....… will be beautiful because it will be our's......hgghhh.....nngghh......"

Hemant saw it happen. He saw Vikram’s buttocks clench tight, saw the thick vein on his shaft pulse violently. A guttural, triumphant roar tore from Vikram’s throat as he came. Hemant could almost see it—the hot, copious surge of semen traveling up that thick length and pumping deep into Sonarika’s womb. Claiming her. Fertilizing her. Making the fantasy they’d whispered about a tangible, liquid reality right before his eyes.

Vikram collapsed on her, spent, but kept himself buried inside her. 

"Can’t wait to be a parent" He mumbled into her neck.

Sonarika wrapped her arms and legs around him, holding him tight. 

"Can’t wait to be pregnant with your child"

A raw, wounded sound ripped from Hemant’s chest. A wail of absolute desolation. He fell to his knees, the world dissolving into black nothingness around the image of their entangled, satisfied bodies.


Hemant spasmed awake, a choked gasp tearing from his throat.

He was in his bed. His bed. In the stark, silent master bedroom of his new villa at Silver Beach, Mumbai. Morning light streamed through his own windows. The air was still, empty.

He was alone.

He touched his face. His cheeks were wet with dried, salty tracks. He had been crying in his sleep.

For a long time, he just lay there, the ghost-sounds of her pleasure and their promises echoing in the hollow of his skull. The dream played on a loop behind his eyes—Vikram’s powerful thrusts, Sonarika’s ecstatic face, the vulgar, intimate slap of skin, the final, devastating release.

Slowly, he pushed himself up. He walked to the expansive bathroom, its surfaces cold and impersonal. He faced the mirror.

The man who stared back had red-rimmed eyes, shadowed with pain. But as he looked, as the dream’s venom coursed through him, something shifted. The fragility in his own gaze burned away, scorched by a new, cold fire. He saw the definition in his shoulders, the result of punishing months at the gym. The hard line of his jaw. This was his body now. Not the body of a cuckolded husband, but a weapon he had forged in his private hell.

The weakness was a relic. The heartbreak was fuel.

A grim, determined calm settled over him. Sonarika would not get to write the end of his story. Her betrayal, her lover, the ghost of the life they’d planned… they were chapters he was closing.

He splashed cold water on his face, washing away the last of the dream-tears. He picked up his phone, his movements deliberate. He scrolled to a contact saved from a lifetime ago, when he got a taste of the elite lifestyle of the city.

Roxy. The call connected on the second ring. 

"Morning, Mr.Kumar" Roxy said, voice smooth as aged whiskey. Hemant didn’t waste time. 


"I need an appointment....for a makeover" he said, calm and certain. 

"Makeover?"

"Yeah , an overhaul for the Elite circle. Make me at my best presentation" 

"Hell yes. I am really looking forward to work with you soon!"

Roxy laughed, intrigued, and booked him an appointment for the morning in few hours.

Mumbai welcomed him with its unapologetic chaos as Hemant stepped into Roxy’s parlour, a posh sanctuary tucked into the city’s beating heart. Glass, steel, and velvet—every surface spoke of reinvention. Roxy was already prepared: racks of tailored jackets, trays of accessories, a palette of colors that promised dominance rather than decoration.

"So tell me Mr.Kumar...what do you expect from the makeover?"

"I want you to enhance whatever qualities I have in my appearance. And make me the point of everyone's eyes. You used to say I had the charm of the best celebrities....so make me one!" 

Hemant said, meeting Roxy’s eyes in the mirror. There was no arrogance in his tone—only inevitability. Roxy’s grin widened. 

"Say no more" he replied, already circling him like a sculptor assessing stone.

The scissors moved with intent. Hair fell away, disciplined and refined, then reshaped into something sharper. A rough auburn dye was layered in—subtle but commanding, catching the light like burnished copper. Hemant’s physique emerged clean and undeniable, the posture of a man who had once been a peak sportsman and remembered exactly how it felt to own space.

Roxy finished with a final adjustment and stepped back, whistling low. 

"I recommend you to avoid Bollywood parties" he said, half-joking, half-serious. 

"Because if Aditya Chopra spots you in one of those parties. He might launch you at his next big project!" 

Hemant smiled, slow and confident, seeing himself anew—not reborn, but reclaimed. As he walked out into Mumbai’s pulse, the city seemed to acknowledge him. The past no longer clung to his shoulders; it sharpened his stride. Hemant Kumar wasn’t running from heartbreak—he was rising above it, dressed for conquest, ready for the chapter where nothing was taken from him again.


THAT AFTERNOON


The country club felt heavier at noon, as if the sun pressed down not with warmth but with expectation. Hemant sat alone beneath a cream umbrella, a glass of untouched iced water sweating beside him. This place had once been effortless—laughter, teasing glances, afternoons that drifted into evenings. Now it was a stage without its co-star.


He had frequented this club with Pranitha. Oddly enough at this moment , he definitely missed her , given his circumstances. Pranitha wasn’t here yet. She was still in Amsterdam, commitments binding her to runways and boardrooms, continents away from the gravity of his silence.

Hemant scrolled through his phone, thumb moving on instinct. Media sites bloomed across the screen—Pranitha at a fashion event, radiant and assured, standing beside actress Alia Bhatt. Cameras loved them both. Her own profile echoed the same story: smiles, champagne flutes, a world spinning forward without him. Hemant was aware about her 'exotic' life. He remembered the old rumors , of how Pranitha was involved with a famous actress. And now seeing her upclose images with Alia made his mind go to a place that made up images in his head for few moments. He exhaled slowly, a dull ache settling in his chest. Even Pranitha, the one presence that had softened the edges of his days, was gone for now. Tamanna has taken Shraddha to a vacation trip to Germany. Leaving Hemant alone in his own sufferings.

His mind played with him next, dragging him back into familiar nightmares. Sonarika appeared, as she always did in his dreams, never alone. Vikram was there too—too real, too close. Every dream stitched them tighter together, as if his subconscious refused to grant him the mercy of distance.

Hemant rose and walked toward the exterior deck, overlooking the city. The club’s massive swimming pool shimmered under the sun. Once, long ago and not far enough away, he had met Pranitha here, a sight he can never forget as she was in a bikini, bold and grace. Today, a young couple occupied the water, playful and intimate, their ease cutting deeper than any insult.

His mind twisted the scene without warning. The couple’s faces blurred, reshaped, and suddenly it was Vikram and Sonarika in the pool. He heard Vikram’s voice clearly now. 

"Priya" he said casually.  

"What?" Sonarika turned, confused.

"If we have a girl, I want to name her Priya" Vikram smiled.  

Sonarika’s face softened, and she asked. 

"And if it’s a boy?" 

Vikram shrugged. 

"Hadn’t thought about it. You tell me" She paused, then said quietly. 

"Akash. I’ve liked that name for a while. It suits you—dashing, bold" 

Vikram laughed, pulling her closer. 

"I wanted a girl" he said.

"But Akash isn’t bad. Let him be free and dedicated like his mother" 

Sonarika kissed him, sunlight fracturing around them.

The vision snapped apart. The pool was just a pool again. The couple were strangers. Hemant’s hands gripped the railing as he realized he had hallucinated the entire exchange, his mind filling in a future he feared but could no longer deny.

Standing there, facing the skyline, the visions didn’t feel like torture anymore. They felt prophetic. Sonarika would move to Goa soon. She would live that life—sunlit, complete, unburdened by the wreckage she left behind. It would become real for her.

Hemant wiped his eyes quickly, embarrassed by tears no one was watching him shed. The city sprawled endlessly before him, indifferent and alive. His mind forged a future, Sonarika would build a perfect life with her new man. And he—Hemant Kumar—would be left to assemble meaning from the fragments of family still standing, carrying the weight of a love that hadn’t survived, and a future that suddenly felt very, very quiet.


FEW HOURS LATER AT YOD INDUSTRIES


YOD Industries felt different that afternoon—alive in a way Hemant hadn’t noticed in weeks. Sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows of his corner office, glinting off steel models of armored vehicles and framed patents lining the walls. His phone buzzed softly on the desk. Kamya’s monthly progress report. He opened it, scanning numbers that didn’t just look good—they looked historic.

Revenue curves were climbing at a near-vertical angle. The defense manufacturing wing was surging, the newly built weaponized ATVs drawing praise for their agility and modular fire systems. The BTRs YOD had recently submitted were being spoken of in briefings, not just reports—quiet admiration from the Indian Army, the kind that meant repeat orders. Supply chains had expanded, new vendors onboarding weekly, demand pushing harder than projections had dared to assume. For the first time in days, Hemant leaned back and smiled without forcing it.

Another notification followed, this one carrying more weight. ANVIL. He read the message twice, then a third time. YOD’s latest invention—the EMP-protected digital visor helmets—had not only impressed the private military contractor, but had caught the attention of BLACKROCK, a global defense giant , the very corporation that was responsible for his second birth. They planned to formally brand the product with YOD’s name. Not a subcontract. Not a footnote. A signature. YOD Industries, etched permanently into a flagship defense product.

There was a knock at the door before the thought could fully settle. Vaibhav and Kamya walked in first, both wearing expressions they clearly couldn’t hide. Behind them came Raquel, poised and smiling, confidence following him in his tailored jacket. All three greeted him at once, warmth filling the room. Hemant noticed the energy immediately. This wasn’t routine good news—this was celebration-level good.

He raised an eyebrow, amused. 

"What's the occasion?" 

Before anyone else could answer, Raquel stepped forward, eyes bright. 

"Bhaijaan..." he said, voice proud 

"The May cover of Fortune magazine is out" 

He placed the magazine on his desk and gently slid it toward him. Hemant’s breath caught—not in shock, but in recognition. The image stared back at him: sharp, composed, powerful. The photoshoot from weeks ago, another one of Roxy’s vision executed to perfection. He looked regal, commanding, dressed in a business vest over a tieless satin shirt, striped vest and pants cutting a silhouette that spoke of authority without apology. And above it all, in bold lettering, a tagline that felt like a verdict rather than marketing: 

A NEW KING ON THE RISE.


He flipped through the pages slowly. The article traced YOD’s journey from its fragile beginnings—him, a former IT professional daring to cross into weapons manufacturing—to its evolution into security appliances, advanced defense systems, and now global relevance. But the focus wasn’t just the company. It was him. His discipline. His resilience. His refusal to stay confined to one identity. An empire in the making, rooted deep, engineered to last.

Hemant closed the magazine and looked up. 

"None of this" he said calmly. 

"Exists without the people who believed in it" He gestured around the room. 

"My workers. My engineers. My partners. And my clients—who trusted us before we had proof" 

Kamya laughed softly. 

"Sir" she said. 

"This is your moment , not YODs. I think this time the recognition should be yours” 

Vaibhav nodded in agreement.

"Thank you for that" Hemant replied, a faint smirk breaking through. 

"But I was confident and resiliant enough because I had a good set of people I can keep my faith around with" 

Raquel smiled wider. 

"Bhaijaan, you’ve brought out your best part for the world to see. This cover proves it. YOD isn’t just a weapons company anymore"

Hemant stood and walked toward the far end of the office, where a cloth-covered frame rested against the wall. With a single motion, he pulled it away. Beneath it, bold and unmistakable, was a new banner—clean lines, modern typography, undeniable intent: 

YOD ENTERPRISE

He turned back to them, eyes steady, conviction unshaken. 

"We’ve outgrown the old definition" he said. 

"This is our next chapter!"

                                                                                                                                                                                                         (CHAPTER TO BE CONTD)

[Harry Jordan]

                                                                                                                                                                                          (CHAPTER CONTD)

THAT EVENING IN MUMBAI



The cold, crisp taste of the light beer did little to wash away the aftertaste of the dream. Hemant sat at the hotel bar, the low hum of conversation a distant buzz. The Fortune magezine was the talk of the day. Hemant recieved congratulatory calls from Simon and Harper and Kunal in the evening before he arrived here. YOD Industries was thriving, a fortress he’d built with his own hands, but the victory felt hollow. Even now , at this moment , he was celebrating this great victory alone. Even Kunal had some business commitments to share a drink with him. In his already conflicted brain , Hemant felt like fate was yet again punishing him for his achievements. He remembered the social media posts of Pranitha. He reckoned she might be busy with her movie star friend right now. He considered calling Tamanna but reckoned an international call for something trivial like this will be stupid.  His gaze drifted across the dimly lit room, settling on a young couple sharing a candlelit dinner. Their hands intertwined, their laughter soft.

His vision blurred.

The woman’s dark hair became Sonarika’s. The man’s confident smile morphed into Vikram’s. He saw it all again—the intimate glance, the unspoken promise, the kind of romance that had dismantled him brick by brick. His knuckles whitened around the beer bottle.

A sharp, rising voice shattered the phantom scene.

"I am telling you, there is a problem with your machine!"

He blinked, the ghosts dissolving. Near the entrance, a woman in a stunning emerald green gown was gesturing emphatically at the flustered hotel manager. The dress had a daring slit that revealed a long, smooth leg. Even from behind, the posture was familiar—poised, yet vibrating with frustration.

He moved without thinking, the industrialist in him taking over. As he approached, she turned, and recognition flashed in her wide, kohl-rimmed eyes.

"Ananya?"

"Hemant!" Ananya Pandey’s face shifted from annoyance to relief, then back to embarrassment. 



"This is so silly. My card is being declined. I swear, there are funds"

Hemant offered the manager a placating smile and a nod. 

"Put it on my tab, please"

"Hemant, no, you don’t have to—" Ananya began, her cheeks flushing.

"What are friends for?" 

He said, his voice steadier than he felt. He guided her away from the staring patrons. 

"Unless you’re treating me like a stranger now?"

"No....never....you will never be a stranger for me"

"Good....then let me handle this so that we can leave"

Saying that , Hemant paid the bill with his card. They both walked outside as the valet brought in his BE 6 to the hotel entrance. Eventually they drove off as Mumbai's traffic slowed their commute.

"So how is life"

"Pretty great actually.....was actually in the hotel for a personal success for me"

"Alone? What was the occasion?"

"I am in the May cover of the Fortune magazine"

"WHAT!? Hemant that is big news! When did you do that?"

"The shoot happened couple of weeks ago , Roxy prepped me for the shoot and Manish insisted I do"

"That is great of hear , I cannot wait to see the pictures..does Pranitha know?"

"I don't know honestly......we barely talked since she's gone to Amsterdam"

"Oh....that is so sad.....is that why you were celebrating all alone?"

"Nah.....I celebrated it with the company folks before evening....I just....wanted some me time"

"And now here you are.....taking an actress for a ride"

"That too....."

There was silence between them for a few seconds after which Ananya asked.

"So...Pranitha and you....are you guys serious?"

"Not really.....I am not exactly at a space where I can make something serious..."

"So...its like a fling?"

"Sort of.....besides....nothing exactly happened yet"

"What? but she said you both were involved for months now"

"That is a rumor she spread....apparently she is trying to protect me among the elites....a man like me will be easy target for the 'gold diggers'....."

"Oh......so she didn't....sleep with you?"

"Nope....just a kiss and a phone sex from Amsterdam.... she is probably scissoring Alia right now!"

Ananya raised an eyebrow and giggled. Hemant nervously laughed as well as he tried to course correct.

"Sorry....its just.....I saw her social media profiles....and she is with her at Amsterdam so.."

"No I understand Hemant....and you might be probably right....she might be doing that"

"Yeah....left me hanging.......my suffering never ends" Hemant said comically mocking his state.

"Awww....poor baby....but I believe you got even with her with Mrunal right."

"How do you know?"

"She told me....obviously....."

"Wait....you guys gossip.......about me?"

"Well....Pranitha's fake stories....painted a very unique picture about you.....so some of us were excited..."

"And you believed them?"

"I initially didn't.......but then Mrunal told me her experiences and that....intrigued me"

Ananya said with a grin. Hemant noticed the change in the atmosphere. He felt the urge to take the next step and he started intiating it.

"Then I only have one question Ananya......do you have any other plans for tonight"

"Not at the moment no.......why?"

"Because I’m taking you somewhere special" he said, a new edge in his tone. 

The sight of his new villa, bathed in moonlight against the black sea, drew a genuine gasp from her. Ananya was very much surprised by the change in Hemant's life right now. He was truly becoming one among the elites and this bungalow was evidence to that. Tara, greeted them with wide eyes. 

"Ananya....this is Tanya , my personal assistance....and you might already know who she is"

"Yes sir.....I am definitely familiar" Tara said with a smile hiding her excitement seeing a celebrity. 
 
"Ananya will be staying the night here. Make all the arrangements she will need in the morning"

"Okay sir"

As Hemant led Ananya away who was intrigued by the whole place and looking around , Tara calmly observed them and realized what Daraaksh said to her about Hemant was slowly turning into reality.

Hemant led Ananya upstairs, not to the master suite, but to the other room. The one he’d designed for Sonarika. The one meant for forgetting the world. The walls were soundproofed, the centerpiece a massive bed on a raised platform facing a floor-to-ceiling window that looked out onto the endless, dark sea.

Ananya stepped inside, her eyes taking in the opulent, sensual decor—the plush rugs, the low lighting, the sheer curtains. 

"Hemant… this room is…"

"A masterpiece....." he finished, shrugging off his suit jacket and his shirt. 

He let his eyes travel over her then. The gown clung to her slim, youthful figure, highlighting the gentle swell of her breasts, the narrow waist. She was desire personified, a living antidote to the poison in his veins.

He came up behind her, his hands settling on her bare shoulders. She sighed, a shudder running through her.

"Are you sure about this?" she whispered, leaning back into his solid chest.

"Damn sure....and besides...." he said, his voice rough. 

"I know you want this more than anything"

She turned in his arms, her eyes searching his. Then a slow, understanding smile touched her lips. 

"Just don't hold back because I am petite and tiny" she murmured, her gaze dropping to his mouth. 

"I prefer my man manly and rough!"

She closed the distance, her lips meeting his in a kiss that was not soft, not tentative. It was a claim. Her mouth opened under his, and the taste of her—mint and wine—ignited something feral in him. His hands slid down her back, finding the zipper of her dress. He pulled it down in one slow, deliberate motion.


She leaned into him and kissed him softly. Hemant grabbed her waist and pulled her even tighter against him. He loved the feel of her slim and sexy body and her hard nipples were poking through her dress already. The kiss got much heavier as their tongues met and began mashing together. She pulled his inner vest over his head and threw it on the ground. He moved the clasps of her dress to the side , eventually sliding it from the shoulders and was rewarded by the sight of her great tits and impressive nipples. 

"Go ahead! No need to stand on ceremony" She said with the cutest smile. 

Hemant opened his mouth and gently began to suck on her left nipple. 

"Hmmm! That's nice" 

She admitted as his tongue moved in circles around the tender nub. His other hand was gently caressing her other breast and pinching the nipple, making sure to have it ready for his mouth. 

"Ooooo" Ananya cooed as Hemant moved his mouth to it.

Hemant pulled down the rest of her dress and dropped to his knees. She was wearing a light green thong that matched her dress and looked sexy against her skin. He was on his knees and was sucking away at her tits, he couldn't stop. He kept jumping from one to another. Licking and slurping all over one while kneading the other. He pulled down her panties finally revealing her wet and juicy pussy. He sat her down on the nearby chair and made her spread her legs wide. He had full access to her cunt and could no longer wait to dive into it. He jumped right in with his tongue. Licking and slurping up all of the juices that had already accumulated. She tasted wonderful and he could not get enough of her. Hemant pushed as much of his tongue as he could into her dripping cunt and fucked her with it slowly. Going back and forth, sliding between her folds. Ananya loved every second of it. She was moaning and playing with her own nipples. 

Her clit was sticking out and he thought it also deserved some attention. He guided his tongue towards it, licking through her pussy before he could get to it. 

"Ahhhh" She moaned loudly as he finally made contact. 

Once he did he would not release it. Hemant continued running his tongue on the little bud making her buck her hips against his face. He pushed a finger into her and finger fucked her as he sucked at her clit mercilessly. 

"Ahhh wow. Don't stop! mhmmm..." 
Ananya was now going crazy pumping her hips against his face. She was so close to cumming her pussy was basically raining juices into his mouth. He added a second finger in her cunt and fucked her faster. 

"Just like that!! ahhhhhh" 

He didn't think it was possible but even more of her juices were deposited onto his tongue. She wouldn't stop cumming and continued to buck against his face as her body continued to convulse in the chair.

"Stop! Please stop Hemant!" She begged him pushing his head away from her pulsating cunt.

"But you just told me not to!" Hemant replied as he pulled himself away from her pussy.

"That was before you made me cum like hell"

"True. You okay?"

"Yeah i'm fine. I just need to catch my breath. You give a mouthjob that can rival a Lesbian!" 

She said laughing at him.

"I've picked up a few things here and there" 

He replied thinking about a past he regrets to move on from. Still on his knees Hemant kisses Ananya deeply. She opened her mouth inviting his tongue. His hands found her gorgeous tits again almost as though they had a mind of their own. He groped them and she moaned into his mouth. Her hands made their way to his pants and groped at his hard dick through his pants. It was his turn to moan as Ananya finally pulled them down releasing his hard cock. The next thing he knew he was overwhelmed by the feeling of her mouth engulfing his dick, he moaned deeply and grabbed her hair and pushed his hips sending his dick even deeper in her mouth. Ananya was such a good cocksucker, she just took him down her throat and grabbed his ass. She let him fuck her mouth and he did just that. Hemant had fistfulls of her hair and was pumping his hard dick down her throat faster and harder.

Hemant could no longer take it and lifted her off the ground and spun her towards the glass wall. She stuck into it as he aimed and pierced her wet pussy with his hard dick. 

"Ahhh!" 

They both groaned fully enjoying the the sensations of it all. He grabbed her hips and banged her viciously. 

"Ahhhh! Ahhhh! shit! Ahhh!" 

She screamed out as Hemant pulled her into the bed with his dick still fully embedded within her. She pulled off of him and lay on all fours sticking her ass straight into the air. He got on the bed and knelt behind her, he put his dick right back into the warm chamber it had only just escaped from. Her pussy was tight and she had a deceptively great ass that was made for fucking. He just loved watching it shake and quake whenever he drove his dick hard into the sexy movie star.

Ananya used her hand to rub her clit. Hemant used both of his to grab her near perfect tits and drive her body even harder onto his pulsating cock that was only waiting to unleash all of the content of his balls into her. 

"Ahhh......Ahhhh......Hemant don't stop.........ahhhh....please!" 

She continued to yell at him as his hips continued to pump just as quickly as before. Ananya spread her legs further giving him even deeper access to her wonderfully tight pussy. Hemant could feel the cum rumbling in his balls and he was moments from erupting. 

"Ahhhhh!" Ananya screamed out. 

She was close as well and he wanted to hold off until she came before letting go. Thankfully he wouldn't have to wait too long as Ananya detonated all over his dick; her pussy squirting juices all over the both of them. Hemant sped up his rhythm wanting to finally cum. He had so much cum stored up just waiting to be let out he could no longer hold back. His orgasm took him by storm. It started almost in the pit of his stomach and spread out through the rest of his body as he pumped gallon after gallon of cum into the juicy pussy he had the privilege of fucking.

Ananya and Hemant just lay on the bed trying to catch their breaths. He wrapped his arms around her sexy body and held her close to his chest. She cradled her head and made herself comfortable.

"Well....I can definitely say.....Mrunal undersold you!"

"Really?"

"Yeah......she claimed that you were this....sweet and tender but rough when needed but......you have a beast in you......"

"Lets just say I am going through a path of self discovery right now"

"Well if that self discovery leads to more fantastic sex like this then......I hereby encourage you more.."

"Thanks....I hope I didn't hurt you in any way...."

"No Hemant.....you just gave me exactly what I wanted.....I didn't want tender.....lets just say I have a time..."

"I figured....besides.....your petite figure is something I really enjoyed pleasuring!"

"I am honestly confused......why did your wife leave you if you were this good..."

Hemant felt a whirlwind of emotions when Sonarika was referred at this moment. He responded after a few seconds.

"Lets just say this awakening happened......after she left me so.....she was stuck with a poor version of me!"

"Well.....her loss....my gain...."

"For now....perhaps..."

They kissed slowly initially, but the seconds continued to pass and there was no pulling back from either one of them. Hemant rolled her on her back and settled on top of her. He continued massaging her tongue against his as he felt his erection return.

"Hmmm, looks like the beast has awakened again!" 

Said Ananya before spreading her legs and wrapping them around his waist. The head of his dick penetrated her and slowly went into her.

"I guess so!" 

Hemant finally replied as the warmth of her tight cavity drove his brain insane. He wrapped his arms around her and pumped his hips slowly. Enjoying the tightness and wetness of her pussy. This time he was much slower and deliberate with his movements. He wanted to get Sonarika off her mind for a little bit so he focused to bring the beautiful starlet below him pleasure. He drove his dick deep into her, pulled almost all the way back out before driving it all the way back in. He would change the speed on almost every other stroke. He would go between a long slow deep stroke to a very hard quick pound. Ananya loved it. It had her completely off guard and her hands were practically clawing at his back. They continued to kiss and his hands were now firmly playing with her hard nipples.

Hemant lifted one of her legs and put it on his shoulder so he could get deeper into her pussy. He sped up his pace a little bit. He looked down and watched her awesome breast just bouncing all over the place. It was really a sight to see. Hemant lowered his head and took one of her nipples into his mouth as he fucked her. 

"AHHHHHHH" Ananya screamed out. 

"Just like that!! I'm GONNNAA FUCKEN CUM!!"

Hemant kept the pace as it was. He stared down at her cute face as she got closer and closer to cumming. 

"AHHHHHH....AAHHHHH SHIT!!" 

Her eyes were shut tightly as her orgasm overtook her. He continued slamming his thick dick into her enjoying the way her pussy would contract as she came so damn hard. He lifted the other leg and put it on the same shoulder as the other. Hemant was fucking her hard now. His dick was practically ramming into her sending ripples across her ass cheeks. She bit down on her lip as another orgasm rocked her body. He was almost there as well. He kept pumping into her until he could feel his cum about to burst through his cock head.

"Ahhhhh! Ahhh gooooddd! SO FUCKEN GOOD!" 

Ananya moaned as Hemant felt her pussy vibrate and shake from the inside. She came so hard that his cock was almost displaced from her hungry pussy. He held on for dear life and continued to push in harder. 

"AH! AH! AH! AH! AH! AHHHHHHHHH!" Ananya shouted as she was hit by another orgasm.

Hemant pulled his cock out and turned Ananya around so that her perky ass was facing him. He held onto her hips as he slipped his cock into her again. He knew he wouldn't last much longer but he couldn't resist the temptation of fucking young and tempting Ananya Pandey from behind. Ananya laid her head on the bed and just let him have his way with her, enjoying the way her ass cheeks shook with every hard thrust.

"OHHH FUCK! ANANYA! I'M HERE!!!!" 

Hemant yelled as his cock exploded deep into her cunt. His entire body shook as cum continued to shoot deep into this young Bollywood star!
His release was volcanic. Thick, hot jets of cum erupted from him, pumping deep into her core. He could feel it, and so could she, the intense, pulsing spurts, each one a claim, a retaliation, a proof of passion. He spilled into her for what felt like an eternity, until he was utterly spent, his body collapsing onto hers.

He slid out, spent and softening, and a river of his release followed, oozing out of her and onto the sheets beneath them. They lay in a tangled, sweaty, sticky heap, the only sounds their ragged breaths. Exhaustion claimed them both, pulling them under into a deep, dreamless sleep before a single word could be spoken, their bodies a mess of sweat and spend under the mute witness of the moonlit sea.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                  (TO BE CONTD)

[Harry Jordan]

                                                                                                                                                                  (CHAPTER CONTD)

THE NEXT MORNING


The first thing Hemant felt was the warm, solid weight of a body against his side. The second was the distinct, musky scent of sex hanging in the air—dried sweat, spent arousal, her. He opened his eyes to the panoramic view of the Mumbai coast, the morning painting the sea in streaks of white and gold. Then he looked down.

Ananya lay curled into him, deep in slumber. Naked. The evidence of last night was painted on her skin, the imprint of his fingers on her hips, a love bite near her neck. His work of art. A slow, satisfied smile touched his lips. This was real.

He slid out from under her, the cool air hitting his skin. He pulled on his boxers and padded into the master bathroom, the marble floor cool under his feet. He grabbed his toothbrush, the mechanical action quiet in the vast, silent space. The water from the tap was a cold shock.

Then he heard it. The shower.

His head snapped to the right. The glass door of the massive walk-in shower was fogged, steamed up from within. But through the condensation, he could see them. Two figures.

His heart stopped. The toothbrush clattered into the sink.

No.

Sonarika. Pressed against the wet tile, her arms wrapped around Vikram’s neck, her legs locked around his waist. Her head was thrown back, mouth open in a silent cry as he thrust into her, his powerful thighs driving her body up the wall with each brutal pump. Water sluiced over their tangled forms. Then they shifted. Vikram turned her around, bending her over, his hands gripping the swell of her hips. Through the foamed glass, Hemant saw the blurry, obscene outline of his thick cock plunging into her from behind.

Slap. Slap. Slap. 

The wet, rhythmic sound of flesh meeting flesh, louder than the shower spray, filled his skull.

Hemant’s vision tunneled. Rage, white-hot and pure, flooded his veins. He squeezed his eyes shut, teeth gritted so hard his jaw ached. It’s not real. It’s not real.

He counted. One. Two. Three.

He opened his eyes.

The shower was empty. The glass door was clear, dry. The only sound was the drip of the tap.

A hallucination. Another fucking ghost from his shattered mind. But the fury it left behind was physical, a coiling serpent in his gut. He braced his hands on the sink, head hanging, breathing ragged. That’s when he felt it—the insistent, throbbing pressure against his boxers. A raging, morning-hard erection.

At first, he thought it was a sick response to the vision. But no. This was his own. A primal, angry need. A demand to expel the poison, to reclaim his reality with something raw and tangible.

He didn’t hesitate.

He walked out of the bathroom, his cock straining against the cotton. Ananya was still asleep, a peaceful goddess on the rumpled sheets. He stood over her, looking at her nude form, the gentle curve of her ass, the dark hair fanned across the pillow. Not a ghost. Flesh.

He spat into his palm, slicking the swollen, angry head of his cock. He climbed onto the bed, his knees sinking into the mattress on either side of her hips. He leaned over, his shadow falling across her face.

Ananya's eyes fluttered open, soft with sleep. Hemant positioned himself. With one hand, he guided his thick crown to her entrance, still slick from their night. With the other, he gripped her hip.

He pushed.

"Heman—AAAHHH!!"

Her scream was sharp, torn from her by the sudden, deep, unprepared penetration. Her body went rigid, her back arching off the bed, her eyes flying wide with shock and a flash of pain.

He didn’t stop. He didn’t kiss her. He didn’t whisper. He buried himself to the hilt in one relentless stroke, feeling her tight, sleepy channel stretch and clench around him in startled protest. Then he pulled back and drove in again. Hard.

This was not sensuous. This was exorcism.

Within three thrusts, he found a brutal, pounding rhythm. His knees dug into the mattress, his hips a piston. 

Thump. Thump. Thump. 

The bed rocked violently in its suspension. Ananya’s initial scream dissolved into ragged, breathless cries. 

"Aahh!... aaahh!... aaaahhh!"

He kneeled up, his own torso a tower of tense muscle. He hooked his hands under her hips, lifting her lower body clean off the bed. Her back bent at a severe angle, her weight supported only by his grip and the point where they were joined. He fucked her like that, mid-air, each downward slam of his hips driving her body into a jerking, helpless dance.

"Ahhh… mmm… I wouldn’t mind… Ahh!… waking up like this… aahhhh" 

She managed between his savage thrusts, her voice a broken mix of pain and dawning, intense pleasure.

"Then call me…" he grunted, the words torn from him with the force of his movements. 

"Uugghh… ghhh… Whenever you want me… ghhh… rgghhh…"

He intensified. The pace became feverish, a blur of motion. He felt like he was trying to drill through her, through the mattress, through the floor. To fuck his way out of his own skull. She gasped, her fingers clutching at the sheets, her head thrashing. It was too much, too deep, too hard. She felt split open, impaled, owned.

His mind flashed—the shower glass, the blurred shapes, the sound of Vikram’s balls slapping against her. A guttural sound ripped from Hemant’s throat. He pulled out, his cock glistening, and in one fluid motion rolled them both off the bed.

He caught her before she hit the floor, his arms banding around her, keeping her impaled as he stood. She instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms around his neck, her face buried in his sweaty shoulder. He carried her, stumbling, to the massive floor-to-ceiling window that faced the sea.

He pressed her back against the cool glass. He thrust upward, burying himself in her again. The glass shuddered. Ananya’s eyes, wide and wild, looked past his shoulder at the vast, sun-drenched ocean. Each powerful drive of his hips smashed her body against the window. Her sweat began to smear the glass. His own sweat dripped from his chin onto her breasts.

The hallucination played again. Sonarika wrapped around Vikram. His vision tinged red.

He spun her around, bending her over, her palms slapping against the glass for support. He entered her from behind in one brutal, reaming thrust. Standing doggy. He set a new, punishing pace. 

Smack. Smack. SMACK. 

The sound of his hips impacting her buttocks was obscenely loud, each hit making the firm, young flesh of her ass ripple and redden.

The room was a sauna of their exertions. Sweat poured off them, making their skin gleam in the morning light, making his grip on her hips slippery. He was a machine of rage and need. Ananya could barely stand; her knees trembled, her moans were continuous, a high, desperate melody. She was beyond thought, reduced to pure sensation—the burn of the stretch, the deep, punishing pleasure of his length scbanging her most sensitive spots, the shocking intensity of his possession.

He felt her inner muscles begin to flutter, a frantic, pre-orgasmic pulse. 

"I’m… I’m close…" she sobbed, her forehead against the glass.

"CUM!" he commanded, hammering into her. 

"CUM FOR ME!"

It was an order her body couldn’t disobey. Her climax hit like a seizure. Her whole body stiffened, a silent scream on her lips as her pussy clamped down on him in a series of violent, milking spasms. The intense, rhythmic tightening was the final trigger.

Hemant saw Vikram’s triumphant face behind his eyes. He heard Sonarika’s promise. “Can’t wait to be pregnant with your child.”

With a final, guttural, animalistic roar that felt ripped from the core of his being, he slammed home and exploded.

"Rraarrrrrgghhh!"

His hips stuttered, grinding deep. He could feel it—the violent, pulsing eruption from his balls, the hot, copious flood of his release firing up his shaft and jetting deep into her clenching depths. 

Spurt. Spurt. Spurt. 

Each forceful clench of his buttocks pumped more of his seed into her, a primal, physical claim against the ghost of Vikram’s.

"…rrraaaaaggghh!"

He held there, buried to the root, pulsing, pouring himself into her until he was utterly spent. They collapsed together in a heap on the sun-warmed floor, a tangle of slick limbs and ragged breath. The only sound was the ocean outside and their own gasping.

After a long moment, Ananya shifted, rolling weakly to lay her head on his heaving chest. She traced a finger through the sweat on his sternum, her voice a husky, awed whisper.

"You rocked me Hemant…" she breathed, her eyes heavy-lidded and sated. 

"You rocked me real good!"

Hemant took a short nap after that. But when he woke up , he found the bed to be empty. Hemant got up and walked to the bathroom as he heard the sound of the shower. There , across that glass wall of the bathroom , a nude Ananya was bathing , her perfect petite form shining being drenched in water. Hemant started to have a reaction as his cock once again pulsed to life. Even he himself was astonished on the way his body was waking up. That was the moment Ananya noticed Hemant standing with a boner as she grinned and slid the shower door open.


"Mhmm. Hard again already? Should I be flattered?" She asked him over the sound of the water washing away the soap from her skin.

"Oh yeah. Your body is amazing." 

Hemant responded to her, turning her head towards him and kissing her passionately.Ananya rubbed her ass against his cock, making him moan into her sexy mouth. She turned around, wrapped her arms around his neck and resumed kissing him. He moved his hands to her ass, loving the feel of the firm cheeks in his hands.

"Mhmmm, Fuck me again Hemant! I need you to fuck me....one more time...." 

She moaned, rubbing her body against his, making him dizzy with desire. Hemant easily lifted her into his arms. She wrapped her legs around his waist. He pushed her body against the shower wall, and slowly pushed his cock into her. 

"AHHHHHHHHHHH, FUCK! WHY DOES IT FEEL SO GOOD EVERYTIME!!!! AHHHH!" 

The petite nepostar screamed as his cock pierced her folds. Ananya's pussy was always so damn tight, but she got so wet. It was a wonderful combination. As the intense tightness wrapped itself around his cock, his eyes were forced shut, his entire body revelling in the pleasure bursting through it.

"Ohhh, fuck!" 

Hemant shouted, feeling her walls adjust to his size. He firmly held her ass in his hands as he slowly fucked her. Their lips met once again, as hot as ever sending shivers through him. 

"Ahhhh! Ahhhh! Ahhhh!" 

Ananya screamed as Hemant felt her pussy loosened a little, allowing him to be able to move faster within her. He lowered his head and snatched her left tit into his mouth. Ananya grabbed Hemant's head hard, holding on for dear life as his cock and tongue drove her closer and closer to another orgasm. 

"Ahh! FUCK ME, FUCK ME!! Ohhh I love your cock." Shouted the movie sensation.

She was so damn sexy, her body felt amazing against him. Her pussy was tight, wet and so fucken hot, he felt that his dick would melt inside of her. Hemant returned his lips to hers, only to find her mouth as hot as the rest of her body. This Bollywood hottie was a little sexpot! 

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH, OHHHH FUCK! I'M CUMMING! DON'T STOP!!" 

Hemant had no intention to. He held on tightly to her body as he sped up his fucking. The sound of ther bodies slamming into each other could easily be heard over the sounds of the shower. 

"AHHHHHHH!" She continued moaning. 

He felt her pussy spasm and tighten around his cock. 

"YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEESSSS!" 

She screamed as she came hard. Feeling her cum was all it took to send him over the edge.

"OHHHH!" Hemant grunted as he sent his cum spiralling deep into her pussy. 

"FUCKI!! FUCK!" 

Hemant continued to curse and groan as the orgasm he was feeling nearly knocked him to his feet. It took all he had in him not to fall. After all he was still holding THE Ananya Panday up by her ass. Hemant held her against the wall as they kissed. They finally turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. Ananya looked particularly giddy after this last tryst.

As Ananya was wrapped in a towel sitting in the bed. She was looking at her green party dress , contemplating on how to wear it back. Hemant noticed her concern and caressed her.

"You should wear something comfortable....I can get you some spare clothes from Anju's closet"

"Would she mind me taking her clothes?"

"I don't think she will be mad knowing that ANANYA PANDAY wore one of her clothes"

Hemant smiled as he left the room to go downstairs. Hemant walked down shirtless with wearing his track pants. Tara was near the kitchen when she noticed him and she had a blush face on the entire time. 

"Good morning sir"

"Good morning Tara......did you sleep well"

"Definitely did sir.......but I wish I can say the same to you but......you appear quiet tired....."

Her cheeks were red when she said that. Hemant giggled in shyness as he responded.

"You didn't......hear anything did you?"

"Oh no sir....absolutely not.....this house was definitely built with privacy on mind.....every room is soundproof space....."

"Thanks......I am not sure Ananya will be around for breakfast but.....atleast prepare some tea for her..."

"Sure sir"

"I need to give her some spare clothes"

Saying that , Hemant walked away to the corner bedroom facing the backyard meant for Anjali. He checked in her wardrobe. He was somewhat aware that Anjali had similar physical appearance to Ananya so her clothes will match her body. He picked up a jeans shorts and an old t shirt that she barely wears now and took it to the upper bedroom.

As Hemant dressed up , wearing a silk creamy shirt and black blazer pants , applying some conditioner to his newly auburn colored hair. Ananya walked out from the bathroom wearing Anjali's spare clothes. And it perfectly suited her , making her appear sexy in many ways.



"I figured it would suit you"

"This seems old.....I reckon she is not wearing this these days"

"You guessed right.....she used to wear this when she first came to us to stay"

"Well....she definitely has good fashion sense"

"I guess I should some credit should be given to Sonarika.....she was an inspiration for her in that department......always knew how to dress on the occasion"

The mention of Sonarika's name changed Hemant's expression. Ananya noticed the pain and the drifting of uncertainty in his eyes. Ananya walked to him and caressed his face. 

"I am sorry to bring her back into your mind......believe me......she failed you as a wife and a partner"

"You may be right..."

"But I assure you....you are in a better place now.....Pranitha will absolutely love you..."

"Is that so?"

"Look I know her in many ways.....and judging by what I experienced last night....I can tell you she will be a gateway to a life a man like you really deserves..."

"And what if I want simple things..."

"Come on Hemant....you are not simple.....and you definitely don't desire simple.....believe me....this is a start.....of something truly.......spectacular..."

"Maybe....we'll see.."

Once they were dressed , they arrived downstairs as Tara prepared them tea and a light breakfast. Ananya consumed it and appreciated Tara for taking her fitness into account. 

"Thank you for the low carb Tara"

"Its my pleasure Mam , I figured you would not consume heavy food considering your workout routine that celebrities follow"

"An astute observation lady"

"She definitely is good at that" Hemant says appreciating Tara's dedication.

Tara on the other hand was calmly observing. Seeing the switch in Hemant , how the man who was grieving and mourning his broken family now had the glow of an awakening. The more she noticed him , the more she realized he was changing. THE Michael King was coming out of the surface and she was definitely feeling the shift. As Ananya and Hemant left , Tara went to her desk , picking out a file she had made on Michael King. In it were old images , relics of a past and wounds long forgotten. As Tara looked at them , her focus and determination were fuelled as she braced for the events that will come when Michael King fully awakens.

                                                                                                                                                                        (TO BE CONTD)

[Harry Jordan]

                                                                                                                                                             (CHAPTER CONTD)

THAT NIGHT AT YOD INDUSTRIES


The abandoned port of Mumbai slept under a veil of rust and moonlight, cranes frozen like prehistoric beasts against the Arabian Sea. At the heart of it all stood Yod Industries HQ—dark, windowless, and presumed dead by the world outside. But deep within its reinforced spine, the DFO room pulsed with quiet menace, monitors glowing like watchful eyes in the dark.


Hemant Kumar stood with his arms folded, expression carved from stone, as feeds from the Kohinoor Recreational Center filled the giant screen wall. Every angle. Every corridor. Every guard. The building breathed across the monitors, unaware it had already been invaded. Beside him, Kamya typed furiously, while Vaibhav adjusted signal attenuators with surgeon-like precision.


"Security density is tighter than projected" 

Kamya said, zooming in on a night patrol changing shifts. 

"Thermal, motion, infrared—everything is ready to go"

Hemant didn’t flinch. 

"Good" he replied calmly. 

"Let the hide and seek begin!"


He stepped toward a separate military-grade console—matte black, scarred, and unmistakably custom-built. With one deliberate press of his thumb, the device came alive with a low hum. Across the screen, a different camera feed flickered on: the corner Hamley toy shop adjoining Kohinoor’s east wing.


Inside the shop, tucked between plush bears and plastic dinosaurs, a sealed toy crate trembled. The packaging split apart with a mechanical hiss—and out unfolded something grotesque and beautiful. Eight metallic limbs extended, gripping shelves and walls with predatory elegance. The spider robot awakened.


Kamya let out a low whistle. 

"That…..is an interesting toy"

Hemant allowed himself a faint smile. 

"Because it was meant to be more than just a toy , it was my college passion project" he said. 

"Wall-climbing drone. Meant to impress my senior Army Analyst's brain. Now playing a much bigger role for me tonight!"


The spider robot—Spi-D—slashed through the toy shop’s storage room drywall and slipped into the ventilation shaft with insect precision. On screen, its optical sensors switched modes as it crawled upward, steel claws biting into concrete. 


The tension spiked as Spi-D neared its first obstacle—a pair of night guards chatting beneath a junction grille. One of them looked up. The drone froze, clinging upside down, engines dampened to zero output. Seconds crawled like hours. Then the guards moved on. Spi-D resumed its march.


"Damn.....that was a close call!" Vaibhav muttered.

Hemant didn’t reply. His eyes never left the feed as the drone slipped through another duct, narrowly dodging a rotating laser grid by recalculating its crawl angle in real time. The vault level emerged on-screen—massive, armored, hostile. Reinforced titanium walls. Independent power units. No visible access point. Kamya pulled up the blueprints. 

"North end elevator shaft" she said sharply. 

"There’s a construction-era ventilation overlap. It’s narrow—but real"


Hemant guided Spi-D through the shaft, sparks grazing its limbs as it squeezed through the opening. Inside, a concealed circuit panel glowed faintly. 

"This is it" Hemant said. 

"This is the Vault's direct electrical system"


With a soft mechanical click, Spi-D’s frontal plate split open. A thumb drive slid forward and plugged itself into the conduit. On the main screen, encrypted firewalls bloomed like abstract art.

"We’re inside the vault's grid" Hemant said calmly.


Kamya and Vaibhav attacked the code, fingers dancing, sweat forming. Lines of access permissions shattered. Timers blinked. Sixty seconds felt criminally short.

"Thirty left"
"Almost there"
"Go—go—go"


Vaibhav exhaled hard. 

"Loop established. Forty-second CCTV cycle. Camera feeds are triangulated to play the loop until our job is done"

Hemant nodded in approval.

Spi-D crawled into the vault interior, bold as sin, moving directly in front of the cameras that currently believed nothing had changed. At the center of the room rose the safe—seven by ten feet of armored brilliance. Alive with biometric locks, quantum pins, and layered countermeasures.


Kamya stared in awe. 

"That’s an intimidating safe!"

Hemant’s voice was steady. 

"That's because it was meant to be intimidating. Only nine of these exist in the world. I’ve cracked three of them" 

A pause. 

"They’re strong. Not invincible"


Spi-D captured photographs, spectra, micro-vibrational readings—everything. Then, like a ghost retreating before sunrise, it slunk back into the ducts, the vault sealing itself behind it none the wiser.


Outside the Kohinoor complex, a jeep idled in shadow. Raquel leaned against it, eyes sharp, hand resting near his holster. Spi-D emerged from the wall and folded neatly into his hands.

"Spi-D has been extracted" he said.

"Mission Accomplished!" Hemant replied from the comm.


The jeep disappeared into Mumbai’s sleeping arteries as Yod Industries went dark once more. Inside the HQ, Hemant shut down the last monitor, the Kohinoor feeds vanishing like a held breath released.

"Tomorrow" Hemant said, turning to Kamya and Vaibhav, 

"Everyone gather at the meeting room. I’ll show you how Operation Jewel Thief is executed—step by step"

Outside, the sea crashed softly against rusted docks, unaware that one of the world’s most secure treasures had just been measured, mapped, and claimed—in spirit—by Hemant Kumar.


THE NEXT MORNING


Morning light crept into Yod Industries HQ like an intruder that didn’t belong. The abandoned port looked harmless in daylight, but inside the concrete-and-steel fortress, energy crackled. The meeting room—long, angular, built for war planning—slowly filled with people who rarely sat still for anything except operations.

Kamya and Vaibhav arrived first, coffee untouched, eyes already scanning the holotable at the center. Moments later, Raquel stepped in—broad-shouldered, unreadable, followed by four of his men. These weren’t technicians or analysts. These were operators. Silent. Focused. Waiting.

The doors sealed shut with a hydraulic sigh. Hemant Kumar walked in last. No hurry. No announcement. Just presence. The room instinctively quieted as he took his place at the head of the table.

"So shall we begin?" 

Hemant began, activating the table. A three-dimensional model of Mumbai rose into the air—alive with traffic lines, population density, security officer response grids. 

"You already know the target. Today, you learn the action plan"

The Kohinoor Recreational Center glowed red at the city’s heart. Hemant rotated the model slowly. 

"We've been survreilling this place for over months and weeks , this is the moment when that pays off. As you can see Kohinoor Center is not an easy target , because first and foremost , its located at the heart of Byculla, one of the important parts of Mumbai. And on top of that , there is a Law Enforcement Outpost located just a few kilometers away. Plus the location of the railway station and an express highway nearby doesn't help us with traffic"

He paused, letting that sink in. 

"We can’t sneak this one out. So—this has to be a shock and awe"

With a flick of his hand, multiple points across the city lit up in amber. Kamya stiffened almost immediately. Vaibhav leaned forward.

"With all these close proximities , we cannot have an enough window for the heist. So we will create one. The best way to delay the Law Enforcement is a big distraction. And this will be something Mumbai is very familiar with. We will have to open one of its old wounds"

The next projection showed evacuation buffers, blast-shadow maps. 

"Tomorrow Mumbai will wake up to a series of blasts across the city. But all of them will be non-lethal. The purpose of the blast will not be to create casualties. It is meant to shake the Law Enforcement system. Mumbai's entire Law and Order will shake when the blasts go off , but these blasts will be meant only to attract them , to create a fascade that Mumbai is under attack!"

The word explosions hung heavy. Kamya frowned. 

"It’ll look like a coordinated terror strike. And this will give us the window we need. Before the cops could understand that they've been played , we would be already gone with the loot"

Hemant transitioned the display. The Kohinoor complex enlarged—and from beneath it, a truck rolled into view.

"Unfotunately shock and awe is the absolute approach so we will need the entire theatrics. We hit Kohinoor head-on. I lead the breach. The armored truck will ram through the main gate and hit the building's main entrance. From there we will use the usual tactics , smoke grenades , warning fires etc. Then we march into the vault. And instead of cracking the safe.....we pry out the entire safe"

The room stirred now—interest overriding doubt. Vaibhav exhaled slowly. 

"You’re telling me we steal the building’s spine and drive away with it"

"Its not the spine of the building Vaibhav , it is just a hidden compartment of the building kept away as a secret. Removing it won't affect its structure" 

Hemant said simply. Escape routes appeared—arteries through chaos—ending in one bold line. 

Atal Setu Bridge.  

"By the time they understand what we took" Hemant said, 

"We’re ghosts leaving the city"

Relief and dread collided in the room. Kamya still looked troubled. Hemant shut the projection down.  

"And this is Operation Jewel Thief......and this will be done Tomorrow!!!"

He turned to leave as chairs shifted and low conversations ignited behind him.

"Bhaijaan"

Raquel caught him near the exit. 

"There is someone you should meet" 

He stepped aside, revealing a lean, sharp-eyed man waiting patiently.

"This is Mr.Arun Gupta , he flew our men on for the Kamathipura Op....former Air Force"

Hemant studied him for half a second too long. 

"Former? Early retirement?" Hemant asked.

"Something like that" he said. 

"Not voluntary. Smells like a paused court martial" Hemant boldly stated.

"You read that fast" Arun blinked. 

"A decade of my life forged me into reading people better" Hemant replied. 

"You did a remarkable job that day Arun. And I will definitely love to use your talent in the future"

"Whenever you need" Arun straightened, pride flickering. Hemant turned to Raquel. 

"I want a special briefing with our squad tonight. No exceptions. Operation Jewel Thief executes tomorrow"

He walked away without looking back—already moving mentally toward a city that didn’t yet know it was about to blink.

                                                                                                                                                                                                             (TO BE CONTD)

[Harry Jordan]

                                                                                                                                              (CHAPTER CONTD)

THE DAY OF OPERATION JEWEL THIEF


Mumbai woke the way it always did—horns, hawkers, chai steam curling into the air. Office towers filled, streets thickened, and the city settled comfortably into its routine. At the Kohinoor Recreational Center in Byculla, security finished its morning checks, guests wandered in, and no one sensed that the clock had already started ticking.

At exactly 10:00 a.m., the first shock rippled through the city. A hollow boom rolled out of an abandoned structure in Colaba, sharp enough to rattle windows but distant enough to confuse. People froze. Then phones came out. Authorities hesitated—just long enough. Minutes later, Bandra followed. An empty parking lot erupted in echo and smoke. Panic spiked now, confusion giving way to fear. Before control could be asserted—Sion answered. Another abandoned spot. Another controlled explosion. The pattern was emerging too fast to stop.

Nine blasts followed, spaced and synchronized, rippling across Mumbai like a dark heartbeat. Everywhere and nowhere at once. Control rooms lit up red. Emergency lines collapsed under call volume. The word terror entered the air without needing to be spoken. Byculla Law Enforcement received the order they feared: 

RED ALERT

Units were pulled away from static posts, security grids loosened, response teams scattered like chess pieces forced into defense. Kohinoor’s perimeter thinned without anyone explicitly commanding it.

That was when the armored truck appeared.

Matte black. No markings. Engine roaring like a controlled explosion of its own. It forced its way through traffic, metal nudging metal aside as if physics had lost the argument. Screams and swerves followed it as it bore down on the Kohinoor gates.

The gates didn’t stand a chance.

Steel screamed as the truck smashed through the entrance and detonated against the lobby façade. Glass, flame, and concrete erupted inward. Before shock could turn to reaction, smoke grenades rolled across the floor, thick white clouds erupting like sudden fog. Gas canisters followed. Panic finished the job. Guests fled in every direction, coughing, slipping, screaming. From the smoke emerged men in full black armor—faces masked, weapons raised, movements calm and rehearsed. They didn’t shout. They didn’t run. They advanced.

Inside the building, alarms warred with confusion. Outside, radio chatter confirmed the worst—units were too far, response time bleeding minutes. The window Hemant had calculated was now wide open. Ten minutes later, the same armored truck—scarred, smoking—rolled out of the wreckage and accelerated down the Byculla roads. Almost immediately, fire engines arrived, crews swarming the blaze, hoses snapping into action.

Law enforcement vehicles caught the trail moments later. Sirens wailed as they gave chase, trying to box the truck in. But the truck didn’t flee like prey—it charged, bumping cruisers aside with brutal precision, forcing its way toward Sewri.



Atal Setu loomed ahead. The truck plowed through the toll booth without slowing, sparks flying as barricades shattered. Backup converged from the opposite end, a moving wall of flashing red and blue sealing the bridge.

Then the truck did the unthinkable.

Halfway across the bridge, it veered hard. Too hard. The armored beast smashed through the side barrier and vanished—falling end over end into the sea below. Silence followed the impact as stunned officers slammed their brakes, staring down into the waves.

Perimeters were locked instantly. Searchlights swept the water. Divers were prepared. The city exhaled, believing the threat had died dramatically and publicly.

Inside the Kohinoor Recreational Center, far from the bridge and buried beneath authority’s second assumption, men in firefighter uniforms moved with surgical clarity. Hemant stood among them disguised as a firefighter as the vault lay exposed—its myth shattered. Steel boxes lined the floor as three levels of gold bricks were lifted, then currency—stacked, bundled, multinational. Hemant watched, satisfied, a hint of a smile cutting through the grime on his face.

The fake fire truck rolled out just as real law enforcement arrived to secure the building. Shock rippled through the ranks when the emptied safe was discovered—too late, too clean. Somewhere down the road, Hemant drove on in the fire truck among his men, calm and untouched, knowing one simple truth: 

Operation Jewel Thief Completed Successfully


AT THE SAME TIME AT SILVER BEACH VILLA


Tara sat frozen before the television in the Silver Beach villa as images of smoke-choked streets and screaming headlines flooded the screen. Mumbai was unraveling in real time—twelve blasts, chaos filled places, but zero casualties. A familiar chill crawled up her spine. Somewhere beneath the fear, a certainty hardened: this felt like Michael King. And only she knew the truth—that Hemant Kumar, the calm industrialist who signed her paychecks, had once worn that name like a crown of terror.


She forced herself away from the news and into routine, letting the broom and cloth steady her breathing. The villa was too quiet, its luxury oppressive, as though the walls themselves were listening. When she entered Hemant’s study—tucked into the left corner, gazing toward the restless sea—something about the room felt heavier. The air seemed to resist her, warning her back, but Tara had never been one to ignore signs.


As she cleaned, her foot tapped against the floor, and the sound rang wrong—hollow, deceptive. Her eyes narrowed. She pulled the carpet aside and saw it: one tile, a shade darker than the rest, subtly imperfect. Heart hammering, she slid a steel scale into the seam and felt it give way. The tile lifted upward like a secret mouth opening to speak, revealing darkness beneath. A basement. A hidden one.


Her breath caught. The man who had hired her—the one who whispered promises of ruin and revenge—had been right all along. Hemant wasn’t hiding; he was preparing. She found a switch near the edge, hesitated for a fraction of a second, then flipped it. Light flooded the underground chamber, and Tara’s knees nearly buckled at the sight before her.


Weapons lined the walls—assault rifles, sniper platforms, blades curved and straight, tactical armor gleaming beside relics of older wars. Ancient steel rested beside modern killing machines, history and future bound together by a single intent. This was not a collection. This was an arsenal. And at its heart stood a sword pedestal, elevated like an altar. Upon it lay the Inquisitor sword. Even at a distance, it radiated menace, its dark metal etched with scars of decades past. Legends clung to it like bloodstains—every underworld figure knew its name, and every one of them feared Michael King because of it. Tara swallowed hard. Hemant hadn’t just remembered who he was. He had reclaimed it.


Her gaze drifted to the far wall, and the true horror revealed itself. Photographs, documents, names—interconnected by red ribbons in a sprawling web of death. The unfinished business of Michael King.

Hakim Khaled. An Algerian Trader.



Kabwe Chibemba. A Zambian chief of a Somali Pirate Faction. 



Victor Tarasov. Head of the Tarasov Crime Family , Russian Mafia. 



Alexander Felix. Director of the FREGATA Group , a Multinational Corporation based in Austria. 



Hamza Mehdi. Businessman from Egypt with Royal Ties. 



Amir Hassan. A Lebanese Army General known for Cruel and Dictatorial Tactics.



Power brokers, warlords, kings of shadow economies—all marked in red. Above them all loomed the face of Daraaksh Zarir, the very man who had sent her here to dismantle Hemant from within. Alongside him was also the image of Lai Tong , a notorious new blood with ties to the Chinese Triads. 


But then Tara saw the final detail, and the air left her lungs. Two photographs sat above Zarir and Lai’s—also circled in red. She never expected or let alone believed these images would be here. But she could not believe it. She was hoping this was not true , but those images showed a side of Hemant she could no longer understand.

There above all the photos of the notorious men of the underworld, stood the images of Sonarika and Vikram. Both their images were also marked red!

Tara’s stomach twisted violently as understanding crashed down on her. This wasn’t vengeance bound to a past identity. This was something colder, more personal. Tara stepped back, trembling, as the truth settled like a blade against her throat. This was neither Michael King , nor Hemant Kumar. He was evolving into something far more terrifying. This room wasn’t about justice or legacy. It was about absolution through annihilation. One thing was undeniable now: 


Every name, every face, every soul marked in red had their fates in the hands of her boss , but the terrifying part is even she has no idea who he was becoming anymore!

                                                                                                                                                                        END OF CHAPTER 28

[Harry Jordan]

This was honestly exhausting......for the first time  , I had a rough time uploading a chapter rather than writing one LOL.

I honestly , don't know what is going on with the site , some sort of pop up issue , where every time I select an option it opens a new page instead of loading in it. Thankfully it went to normal now and I could finally post Chapter 28. Hope you guys enjoy it , and have a good read 

[Demeter]

Okay WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED TO THIS SITE......I spend the last few hours trying to upload the chapter and every time I clicked it popped into a different page. This never happened before , did the site go through some updates or something? I am trying it right now again as I think the site has returned to normal so let me see. Chapter 28 on the way!

Unfortunately, the site has become a virus hotbed, because every time you try to open Xossipy, a different weird site pops up, and it takes six or seven clicks before the site finally opens. 

But the annoying game continues when, for example, you switch from one page you've finished reading to the next. The annoying game then starts all over again!
This is really annoying, can really get on your nerves and is also harmful to every PC and every piece of software.
After every visit to ‘Xossipy’, it is essential to perform a comprehensive virus scan of your computer and to modify and update your settings and protection.
This is a time-consuming process every single time!

I would like to appeal to those responsible (Admin) for the site to better protect the site (Xossipy) from attacks and to prevent the spread of these annoying and virus-infected advertising sites...


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Demeter

[Speedy21]

Hemanth going through rough patch ..... like Arjun Reddy

[Demeter]

A comeback with a chapter that deserves the rating ‘absolutely brilliant’.
Welcome back !...

 More later ...

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Demeter

[opendoor]