[Harry Jordan]

Due to some power issues got delayed a little more. But regardless its here. Chapter 30 coming online in few moments!

[Harry Jordan]

                                                                                                                                                                                CHAPTER 30

The villa began to change almost immediately.


By the next morning, Hemant had called in an interior design crew—quiet, efficient, handpicked. What followed was not chaos, but precision. Walls were stripped, spaces reimagined. New security systems—his own—were embedded seamlessly into the architecture. Biometric scanners hidden behind marble. Motion sensors calibrated to breath and shadow. Thick, reinforced glass panels installed across the lower sections, separating the living room, kitchen, outdoor gym, and indoor training areas. Elegant. Impenetrable. By evening, the sound of drills and measured footsteps filled the house when his phone rang. Hemant glanced at the screen.
Sonarika.

He hesitated only a moment before answering.

"Papa!" Karan’s voice burst through the line—upset, small, trembling with emotion.

"Why didn’t you take my call? I was calling you" Karan asked, hurt spilling through every word. 

Hemant’s chest tightened instantly. He turned away from the workers, stepping into the quieter corner of the balcony.

"I’m sorry, champ, Papa had to go somewhere because something bad happened" 

He said gently. 

"What bad?" Karan asked.

"A very good friend of Papa’s went away. Very far" Hemant swallowed.

Karan was quiet. 

"Like… holiday?"

"No" Hemant said softly, choosing his words with care. 

"It means Papa won’t be able to meet him again. But it also means he’s not in pain anymore"

Karan tried to process this, his little mind circling something too big to grasp.

"Oh" he said finally. Then, unexpectedly, 

"I’m sorry, Papa. I was mad at you" Hemant blinked hard, eyes stinging.

"It’s okay, You never have to say sorry to Papa" he said, voice thick. 

Karan smiled at the screen, pride glowing in his eyes. "You’re the best Papa."

Hemant closed his eyes for a second, steadying himself. 

"And when you come back, I have some really fun plans for us. Just you and me"

"Promise?" Karan asked.

"Promise"

Karan lit up immediately. 

"Papa! The concert was so fun! Mumma stood with me the whole time. She didn’t even sit! We sang songs together"

Hemant listened, quietly grateful.

"And Mumma didn’t let me go with Meghna aunty," Karan added seriously. "She stayed with me the whole night"

"That’s good" Hemant exhaled, relieved. 

"And Boss Nani was there!" 

Karan continued, referring—innocently—to Sreelekha Naik. For a fleeting moment, a familiar ache stirred. But it passed. Hemant had made peace. Sonarika’s choices were no longer his burden.

"I had fun with Mumma, Anju didi, Ragini aunty, Nana Nani" Karan went on. 

"And Dance Uncle too"

"I’m happy you had fun, champ" Hemant smiled. 

They wished each other good night, and the call ended with Karan blowing an exaggerated kiss to the screen. Hemant stood still for a moment after the call ended—then turned back to the house. The following days passed in a rhythm of creation.

He oversaw the renovations personally. New glass panels rose like silent sentinels, each fitted with advanced locking systems. Access cards were programmed—one master card for him, one secondary for Tara. The villa transformed quickly. What was once a dream of family became something else entirely.

A fortress. A sanctuary. A statement.

By the end of the renovation, the Silver Beach villa no longer felt like a memory—it felt like an achievement. Regal. Controlled. Immaculate. A residence worthy of the city’s elite.
Hemant stood in the center of it all one evening, hands in his pockets, surveying the space.

This wasn’t an ending. It was a beginning. A new lifestyle. A new identity. A life crafted by his own hands—and finally, fully his.

The house was quiet in a way Hemant had never known before.

Not the hollow quiet of loneliness—but the deliberate silence of control.

He stood by the floor-to-ceiling glass, Mumbai’s dark sea in front of him like a void of black, a glass of water untouched in his hand. The villa reflected him back in fragments—steel, marble, shadows—pieces of a man who had survived something and come out altered.

His thoughts drifted, inevitably, to the future.

Did he even want a partner anymore?

Sonarika’s betrayal had done more than break his heart. It had carved a hollow space inside him— her actions didn't just break his heart , but his overall trust in love. Because she was not the first one to do it. Sonarika might've been the breaking point. Sanjana , Kira , Ashnoor and now Sonarika. Sometimes a man goes through enough pain after which he contemplates whether he need that pain again. What if he loves again and this same pain awaits him. Love, once instinctive and unquestioned, now felt like a kind of torture that only broke him further. He no longer craved permanence. No yearning for forever. No hunger for vows or promises.

Commitment felt… dangerous.

And yet, women still existed in his orbit. Real women. Complex women. Women with expectations.

Tamanna came to mind first.

She understood him in a way few ever had. The quiet empathy of shared scars. A woman who had watched her loved one fall in tragedy and escaped and emerged not bitter, but grounded. Two single parents navigating broken maps. With her, life could be steady. Gentle. Familiar. There was compatibility there—undeniable.

But Hemant knew himself too well.

He was still exposed. Still fragile beneath the composure. Opening his heart again felt like walking into fire with bare skin. He wasn’t sure he could survive another burn.

Then there was Pranitha.

An entirely different equation.

She belonged to the life he had stepped into now—the world of private jets, champagne evenings, power dinners, and unspoken dominance. The kind he was once familiar with Michael King. In a way Pranitha was an invitation to the glitter and passion he once had with Ashnoor. In a way Pranitha was more like Ashnoor only bolder and intense. She was calm where the world was loud. Confident without arrogance. With her, life wouldn’t be safe—but it would be electric.

Adventure. Passion. An intimacy that didn’t need promises to feel real.

What stayed with him most was this truth—she had always seen him. Even when he was just an overweight employer hiding behind authority, she had looked at him like he mattered. Like he was enough.

Now, as a tycoon, she fit seamlessly beside him.

And yet… commitment loomed again. Expectations again. Vulnerability again. Everytime love came in his life , fate eventually had cruel plans to haunt him.

For the first time in weeks, Hemant realized something else.

Sonarika no longer haunted him.

No dreams. No jolting awakenings. No sharp pains tearing through sleep. She had become what she was always meant to be—his past. A chapter closed, painful but finished.

He was learning to move on.

Still, the dilemma remained.

Raquel’s voice echoed in his mind. His friends’. His people’s.

You have a bigger family now.
There are more people who care about you.

They were right.

But caring didn’t have to mean binding himself again.

Hemant took a slow breath and made a decision—not dramatic, not emotional, just honest.

No commitments.
Not now.

He was still healing. Still recalibrating who he was without betrayal defining him. Love could wait. Promises could wait. Forever could wait.

For now, he would choose freedom. Presence without pressure. Connection without cages.

Situationships, not scars.

He turned away from the glass, the city still alive behind him, and felt something unfamiliar settle into his chest.

Not certainty.

But peace.

And for the first time in a long time—that was enough.           

The call came on a quiet afternoon, just as Hemant was finishing his last set at the outdoor gym.

MYRIAD.

One of the biggest gym-fashion giants in the country wanted him for a full-fledged photoshoot—front and center—for Fitness Guru magazine.

Hemant listened calmly, but the moment the name Roxy came up, a small smile curved at the edge of his mouth. Roxy had styled him before—most notably for the Fortune Magazine cover—and he had personally recommended him again. According to him, the world needed to see more of him.

"An industrialist with that kind of physique? That’s not normal. That’s a story" 

He had told the magazine board. The magazine head didn’t just want a shoot. They wanted an inside look. His discipline. His fitness philosophy. His routine.

And that was when Hemant knew exactly what he wanted to do.

He insisted the shoot include WLFL — Wrestler & Fighting Legends Federation.

The gym that had shaped him.

The place that had made him saved him again in life.

WLFL wasn’t flashy. It didn’t have mirrors that stretched to infinity or luxury branding plastered on walls. It smelled of sweat, discipline, and legacy. This was where college-aged Hemant had learned to fight—not just opponents, but himself. This was where the man he was today had been rebuilt.

The cameras rolled as Hemant trained, moved, stretched, and sparred.

In the interview, he spoke with quiet pride.

"This place gave me structure when my life didn’t have any. WLFL is a place of hardwork and perseverence , where I was molded into what I am today!" 

He said. He made sure the names were said clearly.

Raghavendra — Raghav, the backbone of the gym.
Arnav Meba — Rony, one of the rare Muay Thai trainers in Mumbai.

"WLFL is one of the few places that teaches Muay Thai authentically. If you want to learn how to respect your body and your limits—this is where you come"

Hemant added.

Raghav watched from the side, arms crossed, chest heavy with pride. WLFL had always believed in Hemant, even when the world hadn’t. Now the world was finally listening.

The second half of the shoot moved to a posh hotel gallery—polished marble, controlled lighting, elite minimalism. Hemant transitioned seamlessly between looks. Compression wear. Training tanks. High-end gym jackets.

And then came that look. Just gym shorts. Nothing else. The room fell into a strange silence. Hemant stood relaxed, shoulders broad, chest full, abs carved with ruthless precision. His physique wasn’t just muscular—it was earned. Years of discipline sat visibly on his frame, unapologetic and commanding.

Two female technicians struggled to stay focused, their glances lingering longer than professional courtesy allowed. One nearly dropped a lighting tool before catching herself.

Hemant noticed. And for the first time in a long while—he enjoyed it. Not arrogantly. Not desperately. Just… comfortably. This was his body. His work. His achievement.

For a brief moment, there were no betrayals. No heartbreaks. No sleepless nights haunted by memories. There was only the click of the camera, the warmth of the lights, and the undeniable fact that he had built something powerful—inside and out.

As the shoot wrapped, Roxy walked up to him, eyes sharp with satisfaction.

"Get used to the attention hunk. This photoshoot will make all the rich ladies in the city crave you!!!" 

Rosy said, gesturing at him. Hemant exhaled slowly, feeling lighter than he had in weeks. For once, he wasn’t thinking. He was simply being.

A few days later, Hemant’s phone buzzed while he was reviewing reports in his study.

Video call: Sonarika.

He exhaled, already guessing who it would be, and answered.

The screen filled with Karan’s face—wide grin, eyes glowing with excitement.

"Papa!" Karan shouted, almost dropping the phone in his enthusiasm.

Hemant laughed, the sound warm and instinctive. 

"Hey, champ. What’s got you so excited?"

Karan tilted the phone proudly toward a glossy cover. 

"Look! I found you at the mall!"

There it was—Fortune Magazine, his face bold and confident under the lights. Hemant felt a strange mix of pride and tenderness. 

"Whoa. That’s my guy" he said softly.

"Papa, are you going to be a filmstar now?" Karan squinted at the cover. 

"No, no. Not a filmstar. But maybe you’ll see Papa on more magazine covers" Hemant chuckled.

Karan nodded. Then, as if sharing a secret, he leaned closer to the camera.

"Mumma bought lots of these. She’s giving them to everyone in the neighbourhood"

That caught Hemant off guard.

For a fraction of a second, old instincts stirred—but he stopped himself. No assumptions. No spirals.

"Oh? That’s… nice of her" he said evenly.

"Where’s Mumma right now?" He cleared his throat gently. 

"She went with Ragini Aunty to a fitness center" Karan replied.

That felt odd. Sonarika and gyms at this time had never been a thing. She always preferred early morning. His mind briefly wandered—to Ragini, to Vikram, to familiar patterns— probably a lie she had created to meet Vikram again. But he cut the thought short. He wasn’t doing this anymore.

"And what did you do in these days?" 

Hemant asked, steering the moment back where it belonged. Karan’s face lit up again. 

"Yesterday Mumma took me and Anju Didi to Adventure Island! I went on the big ride, Papa!"

"That’s awesome" Hemant smiled, genuinely. 

"And next week, we’re going to Atlantic Water World!" Karan added, bouncing a little, 

"Lucky you, have all the fun. We’ll make our own plans when you’re back, deal?" 

Hemant said, warmth filling his chest. 

"Deal! Good night, Papa" Karan grinned. 

"Good night, champ"

The call ended.

Hemant sat still for a moment, thoughts drifting—Sonarika buying stacks of magazines, the gym visits—but before they could settle, his phone buzzed again.

Social Media

Roxy had posted a preview from the Fitness Guru shoot. The video was clean, sharp, unapologetic. Him in motion. Power. Presence.

The reactions exploded instantly.

A DM popped up.

Ananya: [Screenshot of him in gym shorts]
"DADDY" along with a Kiss and a Dog emoji

Hemant shook his head, half amused, half stunned.

Another notification.

Janhvi Kapoor: Shocking Face Emoji

Then—

Mrunal Thakur: "My timeline is officially blessed" with another kiss emoji.

He leaned back in his chair, letting out a low laugh. This world—this version of his life—still felt unreal at times.

Then came the message that made him pause.

Pranitha: "We need a video call tonight. Late. I have… plans"

Hemant exhaled slowly, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. For the first time in a long while, the noise in his head softened. He looked out toward the sea beyond his villa windows and shook his head lightly.

"Well" he murmured to himself, phone still glowing in his hand,

"Looks like it’s going to be a long night"

THAT NIGHT

Hemant had his wonderful warm shower and had his change of clothes for the night. As every minute passed , he could hear and feel his heartbeat. As he got comfortable in his bed , he waited and eventually. He initiated the video call.

The video call connected, and Hemant’s breath hitched. There she was. Pranitha, submerged in a mountain of white foam in a deep marble tub, her dark hair piled loosely atop her head. Her sleek shoulder rose from the bubbles, water droplets gleaming in the low light.

Her eyes, dark and knowing, locked onto his through the screen. A slow, wicked smile curved her lips. 

"You just had to ruin my entire day, didn’t you?"

Hemant leaned back against his headboard, the silk of his pillow cool against his neck. 

"And how did I manage that?"

"An important merger negotiation. Noon. My phone buzzed with an update" 

She let her head fall back against the tub’s rim, exposing the elegant line of her throat. 

"It was your photoshoot video. I watched it. Three times. Couldn’t concentrate on a single word after that"

A low thrum of arousal pulsed in Hemant’s groin. He watched, utterly captivated, as she sat up. The foam clung to her skin, sliding in slow, tantalizing rivulets down her chest. She reached for a handheld shower, and the water cascaded over her, rinsing the suds away. Inch by glorious inch, her body was revealed—the swell of her breasts, tipped with dusky pink, the dip of her waist, the smooth plane of her stomach.

She stood up in the tub, water sluicing off her. Completely nude. Utterly unashamed. The sight was a physical punch to his gut. His cock, already stirring, thickened against his thigh.

"See something you like?" she purred, her voice a husky vibration in the quiet of his bedroom.

"Every damn thing"

She turned, presenting her back to the camera, and bent forward slightly to grab a towel. The move was deliberate, artful. It showcased the perfect, round globes of her ass, still glistening wet. Peachy. The word didn’t do it justice. It was a masterpiece.

"Tell me, Hemant" 

She said, her voice dropping to a sultry whisper as she straightened and began patting herself dry. 

"Have you ever eaten ass before?"

The blunt question, coming from the poised board member of Regal Corp, sent a jolt through him. He didn’t hesitate. 

"I have. Multiple times in the past , a young lady , a badass fighter chick. Then there was my wife, Sonarika… she had a meaty and plumpy ass. I’d make her cry from the orgasms, eating her out until she couldn’t take it anymore...I guess now those skills might've improved a lot!"

Pranitha went very still, the towel halting on her thigh. She turned her head, her profile sharp with surprise. 

"You… talk about her so casually. Are you over her now?"

Hemant’s jaw tightened, but not with pain. With finality. 

"She’s in the past. Her actions don’t touch me anymore. Not when I’m looking at you"

The tension broke, replaced by something hotter, darker. A smile of pure carnal approval touched Pranitha’s lips. 

"Good" 

She finished drying herself and walked, gloriously naked, out of the bathroom frame. The camera wobbled as she picked up her phone, giving him a dizzying, first-person view of her journey to the bed. The sway of her hips, the shift of muscle in her long legs. She lay back against a pile of pillows, the phone propped up to capture all of her.

"After that meeting" she confessed, one hand drifting to her own stomach, tracing idle circles. 

"I came up here. Took a nap. And I dreamed… I dreamed it was you. In those same shorts from the video. Fucking me right there on the conference table, in the middle of all those stern-faced men and women"

Hemant’s hand moved to his own chest, feeling his heart hammer. 

"Is that so?"

"You left very little to the imagination in those shorts" 

She accused, but her eyes were alight with hunger. 

"The outline of your… wonderful chunk of meat… was unmistakable. No wonder Ananya and Mrunal couldn’t stop gushing"

So that was it. The compliments weren’t just for his physique. A primal surge of possession tightened his gut. 

"Take off your clothes, show me" she commanded softly. 

He obeyed, starting with his shirt. But as he reached for the hem, her voice stopped him. 

"Slowly. Tease me"

He slowed his movements, pulling the fabric up over his abs, his chest, his shoulders with deliberate, languid grace. He tossed it aside. His pants followed, unbuttoned and pushed down his hips, his muscles flexing with the movement. Soon, he was in just his black boxers, the prominent bulge at the front leaving nothing to her imagination either.

"The boxers too" she breathed, her own hand sliding lower on her body.

He hooked his thumbs in the waistband and pushed them down, freeing his erection. It sprang out, thick and heavy, already fully hard just for her. A low, guttural moan escaped Pranitha, a sound of pure, unadulterated want.

"I am losing my patience to finally taste that" she confessed, her fingers now dipping between her own thighs. 

"To wrap my lips around it. To feel it hit the back of my throat" 

She began to move her hips, rocking against her own hand, her gaze locked on his cock. 

"Show me. Show me how you touch yourself"

Hemant wrapped his hand around his length, giving it a firm, slow stroke. A bead of precum welled at the tip. On screen, Pranitha mirrored his rhythm, her movements growing more urgent, her breath hitching.

"What… what positions do you imagine?" she panted, her eyes fluttering closed for a second. 

"With me?"

He stroked himself faster, the slick sound loud in the room. 

"I’m not choosy. But God, I want to take you from behind. Watch that perfect ass of yours shake with every thrust. Hear it slap against me"

"Like this?" she gasped. 

She shifted, rolling onto her stomach. She grabbed a pillow, tucked it under her hips, and arched her back, presenting her ass to the camera as she rocked against the bedding. The view was obscenely beautiful. Hemant’s hand became a blur on his cock, his own hips pumping into his fist.

"Ananya, I spoke to her. She hasn’t stopped talking about the fucking you gave her" 

Pranitha moaned into the sheets, her voice muffled but thrilled. 

"Pranitha, I—" Hemant’s rhythm faltered. 

"I’m not upset! we’re not a couple. Yet. But if you can turn a woman like Ananya into a fan… it only makes me crave you more. It only makes me… ungh… wetter" 

She cried out, turning her head to face the camera, her expression fierce with lust. 

Her admission pushed him closer to the edge. The visual of her, nude and shamelessly humping the bed, the sound of her slickness, the raw hunger in her voice—it was all too much.

"I’m close" he grunted, the tension coiling unbearably tight in his balls.

"Show me!" she demanded, her own movements becoming frantic, erratic. 

"When you cum, point the camera. I want to see you erupt. I want to see everything"

He couldn’t speak. He could only watch as her body suddenly seized. A sharp, ragged cry tore from her lips. Her back arched violently, her entire form trembling as her orgasm crashed through her. He saw the damp patch spread on the pillow beneath her, saw the muscles in her thighs clench and quiver.

It was his undoing.

With a deep, guttural roar, Hemant came. Thick, white ropes shot from his cock, arcing through the air and landing hot and wet on his stomach, his thighs, his hand. He kept the camera trained on himself, capturing every last pulse, every shudder of his release, just as she’d asked.

For a long moment, there was only the sound of their ragged breathing, syncing across continents. She rolled onto her side, spent and glistening with a fine sheen of sweat, a lazy, sated smile on her face.

"No more" she finally whispered, her voice hoarse.

"No more what?"

"No more phone sex" Her eyes held his, blazing with promise. 

"I don’t want to waste a single drop of that again. It deserves to be inside me. In my pussy, or my ass, or down my throat. Not wasted on the bed or floor!"

"Heh....you really crave for it huh?"

"Words cannot explain how much I do"

"So....about Ananya....what did she say to you"

"Just the necessary things..."

"Like?"

"Like how you plastered her into the glass window and reshaped her insides ploughing into her. She claims she can still feel the smacks to her ass the way you gave her. She is a kind of woman that likes it rough , and you gave it to her. She calls you 'Daddy' now!"

"I know....she reacted with that same term to my video"

"So before you fuck all of Bollywood......we need to do something about us"

"I am open for sujjestions"

"Well , the more I try to clear my duties here , some more starts to pile up. Its like the universe is building more angst between us!"

"Isn't that good? I mean this will make our union something special"

"True but I don't want to pent up so much to the point we will explode in that moment!"

"Looking forward to that so much huh?"

"Of course.....especially after what Ananya told me"

"What did she say?"

"Everything....down to the details"

"Is that so?"

"Indeed...."

"And what did you learn about me?"

"That you are quiet flexible.....that you were reluctant to be forceful but did it for her......and at the end of the day.....she found her daddy"

"Daddy? She really calls me that?"

"Actually its another thing......she used to call me 'Mommy' on our moments...so..."

"Oh....so we are her 'Mommy' and 'Daddy'.......I honestly hate those kind of kinks you know"

"I can understand....after all you're a real daddy for that matter.......but think of it as just a kink....something that is meant to be called behind closed doors" 

"Sure..."

"By the way.....been hearing about YOD Enterprise going on business with RegalCorp.....a partnership"

"Partnership is a strong word......but lets say co-operation..."

"Hmm....you know I was nervous about disclosing about you to my dad and my idiot brother but....turns out they have made a dramatic U-turn regarding you"

"Well....they are made men.....so what better way to convince them than showing them that his daughter made a right investment"

"Hmm...funny....I seemed to have made the investment but still the profits aren't here yet!"

"Well....for the profit to reach you....you have to physically here!"

"Or my investment can come to me!"

"Hmm..."

"You know.....there is a nude beach here a few miles from Amsterdam......I saw a couple doing it in the open with no other people giving a shit......it made me wonder.....how romantic and erotic would it be if you one day.....walked here.....laid me down on the sand.....ripped my bikini off.....and fucked me senseless!!!"

"That is a wonderful dream Pranitha.....who knows.....maybe that might happen"

"I hope so....anyways....getting late.....see you soon handsome..."

"You too my sensuous beauty!!!"

"Mmm....wordplay...I like it....good night"

"Good night!"

Saying that , Hemant ended the call. He took a breather as he felt relieved after a great release and a wholesome conversation with this woman. Hemant eventually went to bed to a much needed sleep.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                    (TO BE CONTD)

[Harry Jordan]

                                                                                                                                                                           (CHAPTER CONTD)

FEW DAYS LATER


Mumbai moved at full speed again.

So did Hemant.

YOD Industries stood like a giant fortress of industrial marvel across the city near the port like a shard of glass and ambition—steel, legacy, legitimacy. From the outside, it was an enterprise giant. Inside, it was Hemant Kumar’s perfect camouflage.

He stood alone in his private office, sleeves rolled up, jacket abandoned on a chair. The wall-sized smart display glowed to life, flooding the room with data streams, financial graphs, corporate trees, and satellite imagery.

TARGET: ALEXANDER FELIX

POSITION: DIRECTOR – FREGATA GROUP


Hemant’s eyes moved fast. Faster than the analysts who had compiled the data. Fregata wasn’t just a company. It was a hydra. Real estate holdings across Europe. Pharmaceutical subsidiaries in South America. Tech firms quietly absorbing startups in Asia. Banks embedded in offshore havens.

Clean on paper. Ruthless beneath it.

"A corporate maze.....perfect to hide a lot of hidden networks!" Hemant muttered. 

He isolated the financial backbone. Cash flow. Asset movement. Long-term hedges. Then he saw it.

Gold.

Not symbolic. Not reserves for stability. Aggressive accumulation. Logistics-heavy distribution. Physical movement across U.S. soil. Hemant leaned closer. Fregata wasn’t just investing in gold. They were moving it. Warehouses. Private refineries. Distribution hubs masked as bullion security firms. Routes crisscrossing states under layers of shell companies.

That was when it clicked.

Hemant flicked his fingers, pulling another corporate emblem onto the screen.

REGALCORP

Their current struggle with Gold stash , a potential new tie up with a mega corporation. And—most importantly—Mehta family territory. Hemant stared at the two logos now floating side by side. Regalcorp handled shipping. Insurance. Port authority leverage. Fregata handled capital. Refining. Distribution.

"Of course" Hemant said softly.

If Regalcorp and Fregata were connected through gold, then Alexander Felix wasn’t just a distant corporate god. He was reachable. Hemant drew a red line between the two logos. The system chimed softly as the connection locked into place. This wasn’t Michael King storming a warehouse. This was Hemant Kumar tightening a noose with contracts, handshakes, and boardroom smiles.

"String by string , lets build this trap!" he said.

He minimized the screen, already planning the next move. The war was no longer loud. It was elegant. And it had just begun. When it comes to Alexander Felix , it definitely has to be a long game!


YOD Industries were silent for a few hours.

Not empty—never empty—but controlled. Every sound was filtered. Every movement logged. Every wall thick enough to swallow secrets.

Hemant sat at his workstation, eyes locked on a rotating 3D schematic.

PROJECT: ANVIL–MK7

Autonomous assault drone support system. Private military integration. Adaptive control mechanism. On the surface: defense innovation. In reality: another benchmark for YOD.

He adjusted a parameter, watching simulated troops advance under mechanical cover.

"Too slow, need to speed up the velocity vectoring!" he murmured.

The door chimed softly. Before it could open. 

"Come in" Hemant said. 

Raquel stepped inside. Tall. Lean. Hair neatly combed. Dressed like a corporate security consultant, carrying a slim black folder and a small encrypted drive. But he wasn’t staff. He was family. He closed the door behind him and nodded respectfully.

"Bhaijaan"

"You found something?" Hemant turned immediately, all focus shifting to him. 

Raquel placed the folder on the desk and slid the drive beside it.

"I've been tracking him for weeks. Ghost trails. Dead drops. Third-party couriers. But I finally got his location"

Raquel said. Hemant’s jaw tightened.

"Lai Tong" he said.

The name tasted like rust.

For a moment, images flickered in his mind—

Father Dominic’s stitched neck. Ricky Tan’s bullet ridden body. Blood on concrete.

"Where?" Hemant asked quietly.

Raquel opened the folder. Maps. Satellite photos. Intercepted communications.

"He's in Lebanon bhaijaan, he’s under protection. Amir Hassan’s protection" he said. 

Hemant’s eyes hardened instantly.

"Hassan" he repeated.

Everyone in the underworld knew that name. Lebanese army general. Turned warlord. Turned syndicate king. A man who didn’t just kill. He experimented.

"Psychotic doesn’t even begin to cover him" Hemant muttered.

Raquel nodded grimly. 

"He runs a fortress now. Old Ottoman-era fort. Converted into a mountain base near Tabarja. North of Beirut. Overlooks the Mediterranean. Cyprus is right across"

He pulled up an image on the tablet.

A stone stronghold carved into cliffs. Reinforced walls. Radar dishes. AA guns. Barracks. Bunkers.




"Not a primary base, but strategically important. Coastal defense. Smuggling routes. Surveillance hub" 

Hemant studied it in silence.

"And the security?" he asked.

Raquel hesitated. 

"Heavy. Constant alert. Lebanon’s been in and out of conflict with Israel for years. That area is always on edge. Drones. Patrols. Anti-air. Private militia. Military-grade weapons"

He met Hemant’s eyes.

"Any move there is high-risk. Extreme"

Hemant didn’t look away.

"I know"

"Bhaijaan—" Raquel blinked. 

"Hassan is the spine Raquel" Hemant said calmly. 

"Break him, and half of AZRAEL's strength collapses"

He stood and walked to the window, looking out at Mumbai’s endless skyline.

"He shelters Lai Tong. He funds routes. He tortures rivals into submission. He spreads fear like a virus"

His reflection stared back at him.

"I can’t move forward while he’s breathing"

"So what’s the plan?" Raquel folded his arms. 

Hemant turned back.

"Hassan built the fortress to be impenetrable.....I am going to build a calmity to test its might...and for that I must discuss something with Jackson Shephard"

"Jackson Shephard?" Raquel’s eyes widened slightly. 

"Yes"

"Isn't he retired?" Raquel asked.

"Not exactly , he is still in service but his space of work is different. He’s part of SENTINEL now" 

Hemant nodded. Raquel frowned. 

"That multinational task force?"

"Precisely. Special Forces. Recon. Counter-terror. Black ops. On paper that task force is the best handpicked group of warriors in the planet!" 

Hemant replied. He walked back to his desk and pulled up another file.

"SENTINEL monitors warlords, syndicate heads, rogue generals. Their job is to protect the world order , and they don't mind getting their hands dirty to make the world clean"

He continued. 

"Hassan fits their profile perfectly"

Raquel leaned forward. 

"You think they’re already watching him?"

"I’d be shocked if they weren’t" Hemant said.

A faint smile crossed his face—dangerous, thoughtful.

"And if they're not. I'll marinate Hassan like a turkey for them to feast!"

"I hope you know the risk involved if you do this Bhaijaan" Raquel slowly nodded.

Hemant picked up the data drive.

"I know the necessity of it if I don't Raquel!" he corrected.

He looked once more at Hassan’s fortress on the screen.

Then at Lai Tong’s hidden file beneath it.

"Hassan didn't just dig a grave for himself" Hemant said quietly.

"He dug one for Lai too!"

ONE MORNING AT A SUBURBAN GOLF COURSE OUTSIDE MUMBAI

One crisp morning, Hemant Kumar found himself at an exclusive golf course on the outskirts of Mumbai. Green stretched endlessly. Silence was broken only by soft laughter and distant swings. Mrunal Thakur stood beside him, dressed in a fitted sports skirt and polo, sunglasses resting on her nose. She teased him about his clumsy swing, her laughter light and infectious.

"You’re strong, but impatient" she said, correcting his grip.

"And you’re distracting" he replied smoothly.

She smiled.

The sun cast long shadows across the manicured fairway, painting the grass in shades of gold and emerald. Mrunal Thakur lined up her putt, the gentle curve of her hip accentuated by the snug fit of her white pleated skirt. From just a few feet away, Hemant Kumar watched, his gaze not on the ball but on the way the fabric strained slightly against the generous swell of her buttocks as she leaned forward.

"A little to the left" he murmured, his voice a low rumble that had nothing to do with her aim.

She missed the putt by an inch, the ball lipping out. Straightening, she turned to him with a playful, exasperated smile. 

"You’re a terrible coach. You distracted me"

"Me?" Hemant feigned innocence, stepping closer. The breeze carried the faint, clean scent of her perfume. 

"I was merely admiring the… form"

She laughed, a bright, musical sound. 

"Your form was what I was admiring last week. That fitness magazine spread? Quite the visual" 

Her dark eyes gleamed with mischief. 

"There was a particular shot… the one where you’re in just those grey gym shorts, lifting that barbell. The lighting was very revealing"

Hemant’s smile turned wolfish. He closed the remaining distance between them, his broad shoulders blocking the sun. 

"Is that so? I seem to recall a certain notification on my phone. A direct message. It said…" 

He leaned in, his lips almost brushing her ear. 

"'My timeline has been blessed'"

A flush crept up Mrunal’s neck. She’d been bold online, shielded by a screen. Here, with his heat radiating against her, it was different. Dangerous. 

"I just wanted to let the man responsible know..." she retorted, her voice barely a whisper. 

"That I appreciated.....those visuals...and the blessing"

"And what about blessings in person?" 

His hand came up, not touching her, but hovering near the small of her back, tracing the air above the tantalizing curve where her skirt met her blouse. 

"Do you prefer those to be hidden, Mrunal? Or enjoyed…in the open?"

Her breath hitched. The golf course was deserted, the last of the other players having retreated to the clubhouse half an hour ago. It was just them, the whispering pines, and the thrilling, reckless tension snapping between their bodies. This is insane, part of her mind screamed. The other part, the part thrumming with a sudden, liquid heat, was already leaning into his space.

"What did you have in mind?" she breathed.

His answer was a hand finally settling on her hip, fingers splaying possessively over the soft wool of her skirt. 

"Something adventurous" 

His gaze was incendiary, dropping to her lips, then dragging slowly down her body, worshipping every inch of her pear-shaped silhouette. 

"I’ve been watching you all morning. The way this skirt just contains you. It’s been a special kind of torture"

Without another word, he took her hand. His grip was firm, assured. He led her off the green, not toward the path, but into a small, dense copse of mature pine trees at the edge of the fairway. The needles were soft underfoot, and the thick trunks formed a natural, secluded alcove, shielding them completely from the open course.

The moment they were enveloped in the green shadows, he spun her to face him. There was no more pretense, no more playful banter. His mouth crashed down on hers in a kiss that was all consuming heat and desperate need. Her hands flew to his shoulders, clutching the crisp cotton of his polo shirt as she kissed him back just as fiercely, her tongue meeting his in a slick, hungry duel.

His hands were everywhere—tangling in her hair, sliding down her spine to cup her through the skirt, squeezing the full, glorious weight of her ass. A low groan vibrated from his chest into her mouth. 

"Fuck, you feel even better than ever" he growled against her lips.

He walked her backwards until her shoulder blades met the rough bark of the widest pine. Breaking the kiss, he looked at her, his eyes dark with pure lust. 

"Turn around" he commanded, his voice rough. 

"Hold onto the tree"

A thrill of pure, unadulterated sin shot through her. She obeyed, turning and bracing her palms flat against the rugged trunk. She felt him step close, his hard body pressing against her from behind. One hand slid around her waist, dipping beneath her blouse to find the bare skin of her stomach, while the other gathered the fabric of her skirt, bunching it up around her hips.

The cool air kissed the exposed skin of her thighs, her buttocks. She heard the rustle of his clothing, the tear of a foil packet, the soft snap of latex. Then his hands were on her hips again, positioning her. She felt him, the thick, blunt head of his cock nudging against her damp panties.

"These are in the way" 

He murmured, and with a quick, firm tug, he ripped the delicate lace aside. The sound was obscene in the quiet grove.

He didn’t wait. With one hand splayed on her lower back, he guided himself into her. Mrunal gasped, her head falling forward as he filled her in one slow, inexorable stroke. He was so big, stretching her perfectly, the friction so intense it bordered on sweet pain. She was achingly wet, her body welcoming him with a clench that made him hiss.

"God, yes..ahh..… just like that" 

Hemant breathed, his hips flush against her ass. He stayed there for a second, buried to the hilt, letting them both feel the shocking intimacy of the connection. Then he began to move.

His thrusts started slow and deep, each one a deliberate, grinding penetration that dragged against every sensitive nerve inside her. Her fingers clawed at the bark. With each push forward, her body was pressed harder against the tree, the unyielding wood a counterpoint to the hard, driving force behind her.

"So fucking perfect" he chanted, his pace steadily increasing. 

"This body… this ass…"

The sounds were filthy, lewd. The wet, rhythmic slap of their bodies joining, the rustle of their clothes, his ragged breaths, her stifled whimpers. She bit down on her own knuckle, then brought a hand up to cover her mouth, terrified a scream would tear from her throat as the pleasure built into a crushing wave.

Hemant’s hands gripped her hips like vices, holding her steady as he pistoned into her. He was relentless, chasing his own pleasure with a single-minded focus, but every groan, every strained curse told her he was feeling it just as intensely. The world narrowed to this: the scent of pine and sex, the rough bark under her palms, the incredible, burning stretch of him moving inside her, hitting a spot deep within that made stars burst behind her closed eyelids.

She was close, so close. The coil in her belly tightened to a breaking point. Her muffled cries became constant, pleading sounds against her palm.

"Cum for me" he demanded, his thrusts becoming shorter, harder, erratic. 

"CUM on my cock, Mrunal. Let me feel it"

It was the command in his voice that shattered her. The orgasm ripped through her without warning, a violent, convulsive wave that locked her muscles and stole the air from her lungs. A silent scream shook her frame as she pulsed around him, the intense contractions milking him relentlessly.

Feeling her climax, Hemant lost his rhythm. With a guttural, choked roar, he drove into her one final, shuddering time and held, his own release surging into the condom. He collapsed against her back, his forehead resting between her shoulder blades, his entire body trembling with the force of his climax.

For a long moment, they stayed like that, joined, breathing in ragged unison, the aftershocks twitching through their connected bodies. Slowly, carefully, he pulled out. The separation felt shocking, leaving her empty and slick.

They fumbled with their clothes in the dim light, the silence now charged with a different energy—spent, satisfied, and buzzing with the adrenaline of what they’d just done. Mrunal smoothed her skirt down, her legs still unsteady. She turned to find Hemant watching her, a smug, utterly male satisfaction in his eyes.

She managed a shaky smile. 

"Well, Mr. Kumar. Your idea of a post-game drink is… quite adventurous"

He stepped forward, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, his touch now surprisingly tender. 

"As long as you enjoy it..." he said, his voice back to that low, teasing rumble. 

"I’m open to all sorts of adventurous things"


THAT NOON IN MUMBAI


A few hours later, Hemant wrapped up a decisive meeting at one of Mumbai’s elite hotels. Contracts signed, expectations aligned—another quiet win. He decided to take a breather at the hotel lounge, the kind that smelled of polished wood and expensive coffee, the city humming faintly beyond the glass.

That’s when he noticed her.

Meghna.

She looked nothing like the sharp-edged corporate silhouette he remembered. Today, she wore a green cotton saree, its fabric soft, adorned with colorful embroidery that caught the warm lounge lights. A simple sleeveless strap blouse complemented it—tasteful, bold—revealing just enough skin to command attention. She approached with a smirk that hadn’t changed at all.

"Mind if I sit?" she asked, already sliding into the seat beside him.

"Sure" Hemant gave a measured nod. 

"So, how are you, Mr. Fortune Cover?" Meghna said, crossing one leg over the other, 

"Doing fine, didn’t expect to see you here" he replied evenly. 

"I’ve been noticing your… rise. Quite impressive. From that loser employee at Quadron to this"

She chuckled.  Her eyes flicked over him, unapologetic. Hemant smiled faintly. 

"I was expecting you to ridicule my past."

"I had my reasons back then," Meghna said, her tone shifting. 

"But I’ll admit— you’ve changed. If you were always like this, maybe Sonarika wouldn’t have gone looking for Vikram."

She watched him closely, waiting for a reaction.

There was none.

Meghna’s smirk deepened, this time tinged with surprise. 

"Huh. So you really have moved on."

She shifted closer, their shoulders nearly touching. 

"You’re not that same innocent, mild-mannered guy anymore. The one who used to cower when Sandeep pulled his antics—until Sonarika had to step in. This Hemant?" 

She gestured subtly toward him. 

"He’s… different. Hardened. Precise. No excuses."

"Is that your way of saying you prefer rich misogynists now?" Hemant raised an eyebrow. 

"No. You don’t fit that category" She laughed softly. 

He turned slightly toward her, curious despite himself.

"You’re not about alpha, omega, dom, sub—none of that nonsense" Meghna continued. 

"You seize the moment. You act like you matter in it. You don’t look down on women, and you don’t kneel either. You uplift. You demand respect, and somehow, that makes women feel… elevated around you"

"It’s rare" Her voice lowered. 

Hemant remained quiet, letting her words hang.

"I was pissed at myself that night" she admitted, eyes steady on his. 

"When I came onto you. But later I realized—you gave me something I didn’t know I was missing. A man who doesn't submit to my power game , but rather the one who matches my spirit in that game"

She hesitated, then added.

"I’m seeing Disha now. Your ex-assistant. We’ve had our fun" A small, knowing smile. 

"But she still idolizes you"

Hemant didn’t react, though he absorbed every word.

"I get it now" Meghna said. 

"You’re classy. Regal. And now you know how to handle a confident woman without trying to cage her. Funny thing is—Sonarika leaving you? That might’ve been the best thing that happened to you."

They were close now. Too close. Meghna could feel his breath, the calm steadiness of his gaze. For a moment, she searched his face as if trying to reconcile memory with reality.

"I still can’t believe this is the same Hemant I once despised" she murmured.

She stood, smoothing her saree, eyes lingering on him. 

"Goodbye… for now. We’ll meet again. Places like this."

Her parting smile was slow, sensual, deliberate.

As she walked away, Hemant exhaled quietly. He wasn’t shaken—but he was alert. Meghna was many things, and harmless wasn’t one of them.

Handle with care, he thought.

He finished his drink, composure intact, and rose—fully aware that his world had shifted, and that attention, like power, required discipline to wield.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                         (TO BE CONTD)  

[Harry Jordan]

                                                                                                                                                                             (CHAPTER CONTD)

ONE FINE NOON


For once, there were no boardroom battles, no deadlines, no emergency calls. Just sunlight, sea breeze, and the steady hum of renovation. Hemant spent the morning moving through his villa alongside the decorators and technicians. Clipboards in hand, scanners beeping, glass panels being tested one by one. Each transparent wall—living room, kitchen, gym, outdoor deck—was now fitted with a card-swipe locking system. Sleek. Silent. Impenetrable.

One swipe. One permission. One boundary.

His home was no longer built around warmth and family fun. It was being rebuilt around regal and royal.

By late morning, steel frames gleamed, biometric panels blinked softly, and hidden cameras disappeared into corners. The villa was slowly transforming—from a family dream into a fortress of luxury.

His space. His rules. His sanctuary. By noon, the workers took a break. Hemant stood alone in his bedroom, barefoot on cool marble, curtains swaying gently. Beyond the glass, the Arabian Sea stretched endlessly, waves catching sunlight like shards of silver. He leaned against the window. And, uninvited, she entered his thoughts.

Sonarika.

He wondered what she was doing. Was she with Vikram? Laughing somewhere? Getting railed by him at a luxurious hotel room? Probably sucking his cock at a place of privacy? Or perhaps planning their future home at Goa together? Living that life he had finally forced himself to accept?

The thought didn’t stab like before. But it lingered. On impulse, he picked up his phone. For no reason, he told himself. Just… curiosity.

He initiated a video call.

It rang. Once. Twice. Then—

"What! Papa!"

Karan’s face exploded onto the screen, glowing with surprise and joy. Hemant’s lips curved instantly. 

"Hey, champ."

"You surprised me! I was playing!" Karan laughed. 

Hemant noticed the background—open sky, greenery, a familiar courtyard.

"Having fun outside!"

"Yes! Backyard!" Karan spun the phone around proudly.

Plants, flower pots, wet soil.

"Looks fun."

Hemant smiled. Then, casually asked his son. 

"Where’s Mumma?"

"There! Corner!" 

Karan pointed excitedly. He zoomed in clumsily. And Hemant saw her. Sonarika stood near a small patch of earth, sleeves rolled up, hair tied loosely, wearing a simple salwar top and denim shorts. Her hands were muddy as she carefully placed saplings into the soil.

She looked… peaceful. Focused. Grounded. It surprised him. When was the last time he’d seen her do something like this?

Then it clicked.

Goa. Botanical center. A new life. Of course.

"Karan, can you give the phone to Mumma?" Hemant said gently, 

"Okay!"

The boy ran over.

"Mumma! Papa wants you!"

Sonarika looked up, startled. For a moment, she just stared at the phone, as if unsure whether to take it. Then she wiped her hands on a cloth, rinsed them quickly, and accepted it. Her face appeared on screen. A little nervous. A little unsure.

"Hi…" she said softly.

"Hey" Hemant swallowed. 

An awkward silence followed. Not hostile. Not warm. Just… unfamiliar. Two people who once knew everything about each other, now struggling to find words. He spoke first.

"Sonarika… can we talk later? Privately?"

"Um… yeah. Tonight… I’ll be free" She hesitated. 

"That works, Perfect" he replied. 

"Okay" She nodded. 

Neither of them added anything else. He ended the call gently. The screen went dark. Hemant lowered the phone and released a slow breath he didn’t realize he was holding. Tonight. An important conversation. One that could close old wounds—Or open new ones. He turned back to the sea, watching the waves roll endlessly forward. Just like life. No matter how much you resist, It always moves on.

Night settled over Silver Beach like a velvet curtain.

The renovation crew had finally left. The villa stood silent, its new systems humming softly beneath polished surfaces. Hemant walked through every room one last time, testing the card readers, locking and unlocking glass panels with precise movements.

Satisfied, he handed the spare card to Tara.

"Keep this safe," he said.

"Yes, sir" she replied warmly.

He nodded and retreated upstairs.

In his bedroom, the lights were dim. Only the reflection of the moon on the sea filtered in through the glass wall. Hemant took a long, warm shower, letting the water wash away the day’s weight. He changed into loose night clothes, dried his hair, and set his phone on its stand near the balcony chair.

He sat down, facing the dark ocean. Breathing slowly. Preparing himself. Then he initiated the video call. The screen lit up. Sonarika appeared. She was sitting on her bed, hair loosely tied, wearing a white tank top and shorts. Soft light framed her face. She looked… beautiful. Effortlessly so.

For a fleeting second, Hemant was transported back to the early years—the stolen glances, whispered jokes, late-night conversations that once felt eternal.

"Hi" she said.

"Hey" he replied.

Awkwardness hovered between them. Then she smiled faintly. 

"You’ve… colored your hair. Auburn?"

"Yeah. Makeover, I guess. Company’s growing. Needed a fresh look for the elite circles and all"

He touched it subconsciously. She chuckled softly. 

"Funny. I ran away from those circles… and now you’re entering them"

Then, more sincerely, she said.

"I’m proud of you, Hemant. You built an enterprise so fast. You always had it in you"

"Thanks" He nodded. 

"You look… happier. Busy with things that matter to you" After a pause, he said. 

"I am" Her eyes brightened. 

"I love working with plants again. My boss wants me to work with two scientists. We’re developing an organic health booster. No chemicals. Completely natural"

She leaned forward slightly. She spoke with enthusiasm.

"I’ve been visiting old nurseries, farms… relearning everything"

There was a glow in her face. It bothered him. Because it wasn’t because of him. Not anymore. He inhaled slowly.

"And I thought you were happy because you’re spending time with your favorite man Vikram" 

He said bluntly. Her expression shifted—not shocked, not angry. Resigned.

"I do enjoy time with my favorite man" she replied quietly.

"Oh?" He smirked. 

"My son, Karan" she said. 

"These mom-son moments… I’m treasuring them. Before I move away" She smiled sadly. 

"Nice deflection" Hemant muttered.

"That’s not you talking. That’s your bitterness" She looked at him steadily. 

"Of course I’m bitter. My wife replaced me like I never mattered" He laughed hollowly. 

"I didn’t replace you. I just… stopped giving you hope" She sighed. 

"You go on concerts, parks, trips with him, hope Arijit’s romantic songs were good background music for you two" 

Hemant snapped. She didn’t retaliate. She just looked tired.

"If believing that helps you move away from me, then believe it" she said softly. 

That hurt more than anger. Suddenly, Hemant’s restraint broke.

"Then why?" he burst out. 

"Why kiss me at the airport? Why give me hope and then push me away?"

Her eyes welled up. Silence. Then tears slipped down her cheeks.

"Because you deserve someone better than me" she whispered. 

He froze.

"You deserve a woman who will love you properly. Respect you. Stand by you"

Her voice trembled.

"I don’t deserve you. After what I did… even a woman who sells her body has more dignity than me"

"Don’t say that" he murmured.

But she continued.

"Ragini showed me a video, from her old friend Anuradha who is now married to your friend Anuj" she sobbed. 

Hemant remembered it long ago whene Dheeraj took him to the College Alumni meet where he met Anuj and his fiance. A time that was so wholesome for him. When he sang "Kitni Narmi Se" remembering Sonarika and celebrating Love. As he returned to now , he saw Sonarika wiping her tears.

"You were singing…...You kissed my photo......when I saw it and when I realized the time and place of your performance. I was never the same since"

Her voice cracked.

"When you were singing your love for me...at that exact time…I was with Vikram....In Jabalpur. At an old fort....loosing all inhibitions and getting fucked by him like a common whore!!"

She broke down completely.

"While you were singing for me….I wrecked your love by having another man cum in me at that very moment!!!!"

Hemant felt his chest tighten.

"I don’t deserve you, you deserve someone far better" she repeated. 

She looked at him with helpless eyes.

"Please...take care of Karan and Anjali. Forget me. Treat me like a bad dream. I don't deserve you Hemant. I am rotten , broken and a shallow bitch of a woman who doesn't deserve anything. Nothing but suffering!!!"

"I should be alone, miserable. That’s my punishment. My penance , let the rest of my life be spent with no more desires or ambitions , just let me decompose and burn in my sins of fire and reduced to ashes eventually. Let pain be my only future!" 

She whispered. 

"What about Karan?" Hemant asked quietly.

"I’ll give him all my love now, so he never feels abandoned. So he always remembers me as a good mother" she replied. 

"And you?" he asked.

"I’m finding a path, but away from you. Away from them" she said. 

"They deserve happiness. Not my mistakes"

Her tears flowed freely now.

"My legacy is already in shambles. But at the end of the day , I will be the only loser in our story Hemant. Karan and Anjali , they will always be with you , and keep your family alive. I will vanish away....because I deserve this Hemant. A woman like me doesn't deserve a second chance. My love for plants is the only part that is left sane now. Your Sona was a lie Hemant , forget her. You will find someone that will admire and be your true partner in life. Just not me , never me. I don't deserve you. I am the poison in your life. Its better you cut this poison away for good. I wish you nothing but a great and fullfilling future and a loving partner soon in your life...forget me as a nightmare that you had conquered. You deserve better....Karan deserve better....Anjali deserve better.....Good Night!"  


Before he could respond—She ended the call. The screen went black. Hemant sat motionless. The sea roared softly in the background. For a long time, he didn’t move. He had thought she was happy. He had thought she had moved on easily. He had been wrong. She was carrying her guilt alone. Still…He couldn’t forgive her. Not yet. Not fully. But now, he understood. And understanding brought peace. Slowly, he leaned back in his chair. Closed his eyes. And let go. Of anger. Of assumptions. Of false hopes. The chapter was over. When he opened his eyes, only one name echoed in his mind—

Pranitha.

And for the first time in a long while, the future didn’t feel empty. It felt open.


THE NEXT DAY AT ANDHERI


Hemant visited a bustling studio in Andheri where Ananya Panday was shooting an ad. Cameras flashed. Music played. Assistants rushed. Ananya spotted him instantly. Her eyes lit up. Throughout the shoot, she kept glancing at him—biting her lip, raising her brows, smirking. Every time she passed him, she whispered:

"Daddy…"

Once. Twice. Multiply. He shook his head, amused. 

"You’re impossible"

"And you love it" She leaned closer. 

Later, inside her vanity van, away from noise—She sat on the counter, swinging her legs.

"So" she said 

"Did I distract you enough?"

"More than enough" he replied.

She pulled him gently by his collar. Their lips met—playful, teasing, full of spark. Her fingers traced his jaw. His hand rested at her back. They laughed between kisses.

"Take me daddy. I'm yours" 

She told him walking backwards and slowly removing her top. Her small breast came into view, instantly making his mouth water. She pulled down those tight jeans, revealing the rest of her figure to him. She turned towards the bed with the sexiest sway imaginable. Hemant quickly followed her, removing his clothes. He was only left in his boxers when he made it to the room. Hemant found Ananya laying on the bed fully nude. He quickly lay on top of her and resumed kissing her. Their tongues met again as their hands explored each other's bodies. Ananya's soft warm hands were roaming all over his strong back. His were busy touching her legs and thighs. Her skin was so warm, so soft. He could touch her forever.

"Be rough with me, please?" She asked him biting her lip. 

"I know it's not really you but..." 

Hemant didn't let her finish. He quickly returned his lips to hers and grabbed her ass cheeks tightly in his hands. 

"mmmhmm, please! Do whatever you want to me." 

She moaned into his mouth as he grabbed her tits and pinched her nipples. 

"mmm, fuck!" 

She whispered before he lowered his head and took her nipple into his mouth. Hemant sunk his teeth into it and smiled inwardly as he heard the gasp that escaped Ananya's lips. He aimed his dick at the entrance of her pussy, and without notice pushed the entire length of his cock into her. 

"AHHHHH, fuck!" 

Ananya's scream caught completely by surprise. Hemant kneeled and grabbed her hips, fucking her with deep, hard thrusts.

"OHHH SHIT! Fuck me. Just fuck me!" She screamed. 

Hemant did just that, pumping his hips faster and harder into her. His balls were slapping against hard against her, making the feeling that much more enjoyable. He watched in amazement as her firm boobs bounced with everyone of his thrusts. He lifted her legs onto his shoulders, spreading her wide even more. He resumed fucking her with the same speed and strength as before. 

"AHHHHHHH! AHHHHH!" Ananya screamed as her pussy tightened and came incredibly hard. 

"OH SHIT, OH SHIT!" She screamed as his hips continued to pump quickly.

Hemant pulled himself out of her steaming hot cunt. Hemant grabbed Ananya by her waist and spun her around so that she was lying on her stomach. He lifted her hips, so that her ass was pointing right at him. He ran his hand over her skin before he spun her around onto her back. He straddled her head and pointed his cock right at her mouth. With no hesitation, the brunette quickly gulped his cock into her mouth. She looked so sexy. Her hair a complete mess, and a cock deep into her mouth.
Hemant held her head between his hands, and pumped his hips. He was fucking her wonderful mouth and she was enjoying every minute of it. Hemant pulled his dick out of her mouth and positioned his balls between her lips. Ananya quickly sucked and licked his balls, driving him dizzy with desire. He pushed his cock back into her mouth and marveled at the enthusiasm she had sucking his dick. Just seeing her want to please him so much, made him want her even more.
Hemant pulled away and flipped her over once more. He pulled her hips towards him and pierced her pussy from behind. 

"OHHH, shit!" She groaned feeling his thick cock in her again. 

He reveled at the tighteness of her pusssy. He held nothing back and began pounding her hard and fast from behind. Loving the feel her her tight ass against him as he drove his cock home time and time again. He had one hand firmly on her asscheek as the other found her luscious hair. He pulled back on her hair as he sped the speed of his fucking. 

"OHHHH, YEAH, YEAH! FUCK ME HARDER DADDY , FUCK ME" 

Ananya screamed with her head looking up at the vanity ceiling as Hemant pounded her wonderfully tight pussy. 

"AHHH, AHHH Don't stop! PLEASE DON"T STOP! DADDY! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH" 

Ananya's entire body practically locked up as she was hit by the orgasm to end all orgasm. Hemant felt her pussy spasm and her entire body convulse as the orgasm made it's way through her. All the while, he never let up and continued to fuck her hard.
He was tugging on her hair, and slapping his ballsack on her ass over and over again. Her cheeks were beginning to wear out which only made them sexier. He could feel that she was on the verge of another orgasm. Both of their bodies were covered with sweat. Hemant felt the cum beginning to churn in his balls. He wouldn't last much longer. Hemant dug both of his fingers into Ananya's hips and prayed that he would last long enough to make her cum again.

"AHHH, FUCK, FUCK! FUCK!!" 

Ananya screamed as she was overtaken by another orgasm. Hemant was so happy that he closed his eyes and let himself go. His cock began to shoot it's seed deep into the cunt of the brunette. 

"FUCK!" 

Hemant groaned pumping his hot load into the even hotter actress. They both crashed onto the bed, in a heap of sweaty bodies and limbs.

"Oh wow! That was awesome Daddy!" Ananya said breathlessly.

"Oh yeah!" Hemant concurred.

"When are you meeting Mommy?"

Hemant remembered Pranitha's words and retorted.

"Very soon"

"Well....do it fast Daddy....cuz Mommy is probably desperate by now!!"

Both of them giggled as they embraced in their sweaty mess!

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      (TO BE CONTD)

[Harry Jordan]

                                                                                                                                                                                        (CHAPTER CONTD)

ONE FINE DAY



Hemant was working in his office when he recieved an unexpected call from Priyanka.

"Priyanka , Good Morning!"

"Hemant , can you come here at Quadron , its an emergency!"

"What happened?"

"Please come here , I need to tell you in person!"

"Okay I am on my way!"

Hemant didn't waste a minute and immediately called Raquel to escort him in his BMW. Quadron Technologies still looked the same. Glass walls. Silver signage. IT chaos disguised as innovation. For a moment, as Hemant stepped through the revolving doors, it felt like time had folded in on itself. This was where he had once been a simple man with talent and ambition—burying the legends, blood, and ghosts to build something normal. Now it was ironic.

He wore a simple blazer over a dark shirt. No extravagance. No arrogance. Yet people noticed. They always did. Confidence had a gravity. The receptionist barely had time to announce him before security escorted him upstairs. The CEO’s office. When Hemant entered, he stopped. Sandeep was there.

Leaning casually near the window. Expensive watch. Careless posture. The son of the owner. Entitled. Untouchable—until he wasn’t. Priyanka sat behind her desk, shoulders slumped, eyes red. Papers lay scattered, forgotten.

"Priyanka?" Hemant asked softly. 

"What happened?"

She looked up, relief and fear colliding on her face.

"Thank God you came" she whispered.

"Talk to me" He walked closer. 

She took a breath. 

"Yesterday… Sandeep hosted a party. Big one. Corporate elites"

Sandeep straightened. 

"I invited Disha because she deserved to shine" he cut in quickly. 

"She’s talented. I wanted people to notice her"

Hemant glanced at him once—silent, assessing. Priyanka continued, voice trembling. 

"She did get noticed. By Jignesh Yadav. Son of an MP from up north"

"The guy was drunk. Started touching her. Saying disgusting things"

Sandeep clenched his jaw. Hemant’s fingers tightened slightly.

"She told him to stop" Sandeep said. 

"He didn’t. So… she slapped him."

A pause.

"He lost it," Priyanka whispered. 

"Threatened her. Said she’d regret it."

"Then what?" Hemant’s voice was calm. 

Priyanka swallowed. 

"This morning… she was entering the office. Two cars stopped and a bunch of men forced her inside the vehicle and drove off. Our security guards could overpower them"

"It was definitely Yadav's men Hemant. He has influence over some of the small gangs in the city" 

Sandeep nodded grimly. The room felt colder.

"I filed a report.....law enforcement are looking. But… you know how this works. Political pressure…"

Her voice cracked. Priyanka added quickly.

"Meghna went after them" she said. 

"She took Disha's scooty and just… left. She was furious"

Hemant closed his eyes for half a second.

Disha. Young. Bright. Fearless. Someone who didn’t deserve to be collateral in brutal men's games. When he opened his eyes again, something had changed. The warmth was gone. The gentleness was gone.

The man took a step back and the Archangel stepped in!

And now , Hemant was becoming Michael again , embracing his past , his brutality to push himself again. His breathing calmed and the grim predatory eagle took over.
 
"Nothing will happen to her" Hemant said.

His voice was low. Absolute.

"Hemant—" Priyanka looked up. 

"I said" he repeated softly. 

"Nothing will happen to her."

Sandeep felt it then. The shift. The air seemed heavier. Hemant’s eyes weren’t just anger. They were flames of Vengeance. Like a judge who had already decided the sentence.

"Some people need to reminded....just whoes Kingdom this is!" Hemant stated.

He turned toward the door.

"Hemant" Priyanka called. 

"What are you going to do?"

He paused. Didn’t look back.

"I'll find Disha , bring her back. Expect her in the office tomorrow like usual!"

And he walked out. Sandeep exhaled shakily. He had seen powerful men before. But this? This was different. Hemant was different. He was watching the legend that his father used to say come to life right before his eyes. At that moment there was no fear , just pity , for Yadav

This was a predator remembering how to hunt. Somewhere in Mumbai, Jignesh Yadav was about to learn a lesson no influence could erase.

Because the eagle had descended. And it was hungry.

                        https://i.ibb.co/Q3NQ4BJ8/Eagle11.gif

FEW HOURS LATER NEAR POWAI LAKE

The abandoned factory near Powai Dam had become a graveyard of rust and rot.

Broken chimneys stabbed at the sky. Cracked windows stared like blind eyes. The lake nearby reflected sunlight. Wind pushed through shattered walls, carrying the smell of oil, algae, and old crime.

It was the perfect place for monsters.

Inside the main hall, beneath the ruined industrial roofs, Disha and Meghna were trapped.

Meghna stood in front of her like a shield, fists clenched, clothes torn, face bruised—but still unbroken. Jignesh Yadav circled them, laughing.

"You think you’re brave?" he sneered.

Meghna swung. He blocked and slammed his fist into her ribs. She gasped. Another punch. Her lip split open, blood dripping down her chin. Disha screamed. 

"Stop! Please, stop! I’ll do whatever you want—just don’t hurt her!"

"Please… just submit. Don’t let him kill you" She grabbed Meghna’s arm, crying.

Meghna wiped blood from her mouth, eyes burning.

"Never" she spat.

Yadav smiled cruelly.

"Oh, I’m hurting you anyway" he said. 

"My boys are coming. And when they get here… we’ll have a buffet"

Disha froze. Meghna’s fists trembled with rage. Then—Sounds of engines rumbled. Multiple. Fast. Approaching.

"Ahh… finally" Yadav’s face lit up. 

Headlights flooded the compound. Two black Mahindra Scorpios charged through the compound. Leading them—A green 2003 BMW E39 M5 screamed in and skidded sideways, stopping dead in a cloud of dust. 



The doors flew open. Men poured out. Not thugs. Soldiers. Automatic rifles cracked. Not a single shot was fatal. Every bullet slammed into knees, thighs, calves. Goons dropped screaming. The second wave followed—projectile stun guns fired. Blue arcs of electricity lit the night. Bodies stiffened and collapsed. Two massive men rushed in next, batons swinging, crushing anyone still standing. Chaos. Precision. Fear.

From the BMW, Raquel stepped out, USP pistol in hand, suppressor gleaming. He checked the perimeter once—Then opened the rear door. Hemant Kumar stepped out. Razor sharp. Like an Apex Predator. Deadly. The squad immediately formed around him, weapons raised, creating a moving shield. They advanced. Step by step. No rush. No hesitation. Toward the sealed iron door at the far end of the factory.

Behind it—Disha. Meghna. Yadav.

Hemant stopped.

"Charges!" he said.

Raquel nodded. Charges were planted. Timer set. They retreated.

Three. Two. One.

The explosion ripped through the night. Metal folded. Concrete shattered. Dust and fire burst outward. Inside, everyone was thrown to the ground. Ears rang. Vision blurred. Yadav coughed, trying to stand. Disha and Meghna clung to each other, shaking.

Then—Footsteps. Slow. Heavy. Through the smoke. Through falling debris. A silhouette emerged. Tall. Unstoppable. Hemant walked out of the rubble like judgment incarnate. Dust covered his blazer. His eyes burned through it. Disha stared.

"Boss?" she whispered.

Meghna couldn’t speak. Disha's mild-mannered former boss? No longer exists. He was precise , razor sharp and full on ruthless This was someone else. Yadav staggered back. 

"W-Who the hell are you?!"

Hemant didn’t answer. Yadav screamed and charged. Big mistake. Hemant shifted. Deflected the punch. Elbow to the throat. Knee to the stomach. Spin kick to the ribs. Crack. Yadav flew into a pillar.

Before he could breathe—Hemant was on him. Fists like hammers. Kicks like whips. Every move perfect. Kung Fu fluidity. Kickboxing brutality. Military efficiency. No wasted motion. No mercy. Disha covered her mouth.

"Oh my God…..wow"

Hemant slammed Yadav into the ground. Once. Twice. Final punch. Silence. Yadav lay broken, blood pooling beneath him. Hemant straightened.

"Raquel" he said calmly. 

"Call an ambulance"

"Yes, Bhaijaan"

"Put the bills on my account"

"Of course" Raquel smiled slightly. 

Hemant walked to the girls. He knelt. Helped Meghna up first. Then Disha. She was trembling. He gently brushed her hair back.

"You’re safe now" he said softly.

Her heart nearly exploded. She nodded, unable to speak. Meghna stared at him.

"Who… who are you?" she whispered.

Hemant gave a small, tired smile.

"Someone who looks after his people"

He led them toward the BMW. Behind them, sirens approached. Ahead of them—Freedom. And for Disha, one undeniable truth had been burned into her heart forever: 

Her boss wasn’t just powerful. He was legendary.

AT MEGHNA'S APARTMENT

The apartment was quiet now.

Too quiet.

Mumbai’s chaos stayed outside, muffled by glass and distance. Inside, only soft breathing and the occasional hum of traffic broke the silence. Meghna sat on the edge of her bed, back against the headboard, shirt loosened to expose minor bruises and darkening skin. A lamp cast warm light over the room. Hemant knelt in front of her with a medical kit. Cotton. Antiseptic. Bandages.

His hands were steady as he cleaned the cut on her lip.

"Hold still" he said quietly.

She did. But she couldn’t stop staring. This man—this version of him—didn’t fit any memory she had. Not the calm employee of Quadron. Not the loser husband of Sonarika. Not the cowering fat man he once was. This was someone else.

Finally, she spoke.

"Wow...you really changed haven't you?" Meghna asked softly. 

"I don’t even recognize the old you anymore"

Hemant didn’t look up.

"I didn’t change Meghna" he replied.

He taped the bandage gently.

"You simply brought me back to who I was"

That made her blink.

"What?"

He finally met her eyes.

"I don’t know whether to thank you...or punish you for wrecking my marriage" he said slowly, 

Her face drained of color.

"H-Hemant—"

He smiled. Not warm. Not cruel. Something in between. She froze.

"I know the role you played" he continued calmly. 

"In Sonarika and Vikram’s little love story. The messages. The ‘coincidental’ meetings. The advice. You invisible presence in their conversations and bondings. One can argue that you were a "facilitator" of sorts... "

Meghna looked like a deer caught in headlights. He stood up.

"And I know you have no good intentions regarding Sonarika. That you're targeting her for something. For whatever twisted reason you have"

He walked closer.

"But listen carefully" he said quietly. 

"I don’t care about Sonarika anymore. She’s a closed chapter. Whatever conflict you two have going on , I have no interest or intention to be involved with it!"

Meghna swallowed.

"But Karan and Anjali… are not part of that conflict!" 

Hemant continued, voice sharpening, He leaned down, eyes locking with hers.

"So this is me telling you , leave them out of your games. If even a scratch appears on either of them" 

He whispered 

"You’ll learn what real revenge feels like"

A chill ran through her.

"There is a lot you don't know about me Meghna , in a way we're both in a similar path. But right now my family matters to me. I’ve had my heart broken before" 

He went on. 

"More than once. Sonarika wasn’t the first."

He straightened.

"But she’ll be the last."

Meghna’s body trembled.

"I’ve dealt with women like you before."

His eyes darkened.

"And I enjoyed destroying them…piece by piece"

Her breath hitched.

"Leave me and my family out of your games" he warned. 

"Or I’ll turn you into ashes"

Silence hung between them. Then his expression softened—just slightly.mBefore she could respond, he leaned in. And kissed her. Hard. Deep. Unapologetic. For a moment, she forgot how to breathe. When he pulled away, her lips were trembling.

"Heal well" he said simply.

And walked out. In the living room, Disha sat curled on the couch, blanket wrapped around her shoulders, eyes red from crying. She looked up when Hemant entered.

"Boss…"

He sat beside her.

"You’re safe, It’s over" he said gently. 

"I… I was so scared…" Her voice cracked. 

He placed a hand on her shoulder.

"I know, But no one will ever mess with you again" he said. 

His eyes softened.

"Because you’re my girl."

Her heart skipped.

"M-My… what?"

He didn’t answer. He leaned in. And kissed her. Slow. Warm. Certain. Her mind went blank. When he pulled back, she was breathless, stunned, glowing.

"Sex is the best way to heal wounds," he said casually.

She stared at him. He smirked.

"Your lipstick...tastes like raspberry punch" he added. 

She blinked.

"I prefer cranberry twist!" 

He said lightly. Then he stood and walked away. Leaving her frozen in place

The taste of his lips still burned on hers. That’s all Meghna could think about, her fingers brushing the bandage on her cheekbone, her body humming with a strange, electric shock. The door clicked shut. Disha stood there, silhouetted against the living room light, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

"He’s gone" Disha whispered, her voice thick.

Meghna nodded, unable to form words. The image of Hemant—calm, methodical, applying antiseptic with a tenderness that contradicted the violence she’d just witnessed—played on a loop in her mind. Then, the kiss. Possessive. Promising. It had short-circuited her brain.

Disha took a step into the bedroom. Her eyes were wide, dark pools of stunned arousal.  Disha’s gaze dropped to Meghna’s bruised face, then traveled down her body. A shiver, hot and undeniable, shot through Meghna’s core. Before Meghna could process the insanity of the statement, Disha’s hands went to the hem of her own blouse. In one fluid, desperate motion, she pulled it over her head. The maroon lace of her bra cupped her full breasts, the peaks already hard against the delicate fabric.

"Disha, what are you—?"

The question was swallowed as Disha crossed the room in two strides and crashed her mouth onto Meghna’s. It wasn’t a gentle exploration. It was a claiming. A shared hunger. Raspberry lipstick—the same flavor Hemant had identified—smudged between them, a sweet, tangy stain. Meghna gasped into the kiss, her hands flying up, not to push away, but to tangle in Disha’s silken hair. The shock melted into a surge of pure, molten need. He did this. He lit this fuse.

Clothes became obstacles. Fingers fumbled with buttons, zippers, hooks. A soft whimper escaped Disha as her bra fell away, her breasts pressing against Meghna’s. Skin met fevered skin. They tumbled onto the bed, a tangle of limbs and frantic energy. Meghna’s hands slid down Disha’s back, over the curve of her ass, pulling her closer. Disha’s thigh slipped between Meghna’s legs, applying a delicious, immediate pressure that made Meghna cry out.

"He kissed me Meghna...Boss kissed me!" Disha moaned.

"He kissed me too" Meghna panted, breaking the kiss to trail her mouth down Disha’s throat. 

"What has he become?"

Disha arched her back, grinding against Meghna’s thigh. 

"I don’t care. I just want to feel what my master made us feel" 

Her hand snaked down, fingers slipping through Meghna’s wetness with no preamble. Meghna gasped, her hips bucking. Yes. Exactly. She returned the favor, her own fingers finding Disha’s soaked core. They moved in a frantic, mirrored rhythm, each stroke a question answered by a gasp, a moan.

"He tasted me" Disha moaned, her head thrashing on the pillow. 

"Said my lipstick was raspberry....mmhmmm..." 

Her fingers curled inside Meghna, hitting a spot that made stars burst behind her eyelids.

"He’s not…mmhmm......he’s not that same loser husband of Sonarika anymore..mhmm!!" 

Meghna managed, her own fingers working Disha into a shuddering frenzy. The scbang of her short nails against Disha’s inner walls drew a sharp, pleasured cry. The scent of their mutual arousal filled the room, musky and sweet.

"Switch" 

Disha commanded this time, her voice husky with lust. They moved in a fluid, desperate dance, rearranging themselves until Meghna was hovering over Disha’s mouth, and Disha’s own was buried between Meghna’s thighs. The first hot, wet swipe of Disha’s tongue made Meghna’s knees buckle. She returned the favor, diving into Disha’s sweetness, the taste exploding on her tongue—tangy, salty, perfect. The sixty-nine was less about technique and more about devouring, about losing themselves in the sensation he had awakened.


They rode the wave until they were breathless, slick with sweat and saliva, and then collapsed side-by-side, legs instinctively intertwining. Their soaked, swollen folds pressed together. Meghna hooked one leg over Disha’s hip, and Disha did the same, locking them in a tight, intimate scissor. They began to rock. A slow, deep grind that quickly escalated.


"Uhhmm....The way he moved....mhmmm....ommm.." 

Meghna hissed, her clitoris rubbing exquisitely against Disha’s with each thrust. 

"Like a fucking action hero.....mmmhmm....I’ve never seen anything like it"

"I have" Disha breathed, her eyes squeezed shut. 

"In my dreams. For months....ahhh....mmm...he has done things with me in my dreams that even the best pornstars would feel like catching up....mmm.....uhmm" 

Her hips pistoned harder, driving their sexes together in a wet, rhythmic slap. 

"I want to submit to him. Completely"

"Submit?" Meghna’s rhythm faltered for a second, stunned by the raw hunger in the confession. 

"Yes" Disha moaned, her voice breaking. 

"I want to be his bitch. His personal slut. His whore. I want him to use me. To make me his cum dump. I want to wear his marks, drink his cum, choke on his cock until I see stars"

The vulgarity, the sheer abject desire of it, sent a new jolt of heat straight to Meghna’s core. Her own grinding became frantic. 

"You’re insane Disha...mmm.......his wife left him for another man....mm...maybe he’s not….you know…..mhmm....a disappointment down there"

Disha let out a sharp, incredulous laugh, even as her body trembled on the edge. 

"Uhm....hmm...you didn’t see the Fitness Guru shoot few days ago.....the gym shorts....that clean outline....it has been imprinted on my brain mhmm......Oh god, right there!" 

She cried out as Meghna hit a particularly good angle. 

"They left nothing to the imagination. He’s packing, Meghna. He’s a fucking god. And I want to worship him"

The visual—Hemant, sculpted and powerful, a clear outline of his thick meat—coupled with Disha’s desperate, submissive litany, was the final trigger. Meghna’s thoughts dissolved into a white-hot void. Her back arched violently off the bed. A guttural, raw scream was torn from her throat as her orgasm detonated, a torrent of release soaking their tangled thighs and the sheets beneath them. At the same moment, Disha’s body locked, her own cry echoing Meghna’s as she squirted, a hot rush joining Meghna’s on the ruined sheets.

For long minutes, there was only the sound of ragged breathing. They lay in the wreckage, limbs still loosely entwined, slick with the evidence of their shared climax. The air was thick with sex and salt and sweat.

Meghna’s mind, blissfully empty for a moment, slowly refilled. Not with the fear from earlier, or the shock. With him. Hemant’s calm eyes. His hard fists. His demanding kiss. The taste of him was gone from her lips, replaced by Disha and their own passion, but the imprint of him was seared into her nerves.


Disha and Meghna found comfort in each other. No words. No plans. Just warmth, closeness, and the quiet need to feel alive again. The world outside disappeared. And when they finally lay tangled in messy sheets, breathing slow and tired, both stared at the ceiling in silence. Both thinking of the same man. For Disha—He was no longer just her boss. He was her hero. Her fantasy. Her impossible dream now possible , and more than that her reality of submission to him. 

For Meghna—He was admiration… mixed with fear. Because she now understood something terrifying. She hadn’t created a broken man. She had awakened a force of nature!

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                (TO BE CONTD)

[Harry Jordan]

                                                                                                                                                                                      (CHAPTER CONTD)

THAT EVENING



At YOD Enterprise, Hemant sat by his office window, sipping coffee. A notification popped up. It was Sonarika’s post. Atlantic Water World. Karan laughing. Anjali splashing. Mouni smiling. Sonarika in a blue swimsuit, holding her son close. Happy. Alive. Present. He checked once. There was no Vikram. No Sagar either. He closed the app. No jealousy. No ache. Just acceptance. She was Karan’s mother after all. Nothing more. Nothing less. And that was enough.

Later that night , Hemant went to shortly attend a party hosted by Siddharth at The Mariott. The Marriott glittered that night. Crystal chandeliers. Soft jazz. Champagne flowing. Siddharth gave it a vintage feel and vibe. Siddharth Mehta greeted Hemant warmly.

"Just to let you know , that Yadav matter is buried" Siddharth said.

"Thanks. Means a lot" Hemant smiled. 

"You are valuable partner to our business. And judging by Pranitha , very soon , you might be family!"

They shared a warm embrace as the party went on. Later, he met Kunal.

"Congratulations on the Mehta tie-up man , its a big move!" Kunal said.

They talked about other things after which Hemant brought the mutual subject between them.

"Sonarika posted some of the pics of their water park adventure today. Mouni was there too"

"Oh yeah , seen it. Turns out it was a compensation move from Sonarika considering she rejected the double date"

Hemant was startled hearing that.

"Rejected?"

"Yeah...you didn't know..Sonarika vehemently rejected Mouni's proposal for a double date and instead chosen to spend her time with her family. She even brought them at the concert which Mouni was expecting Sonarika will be coming along with Vikram"

"Interesting"

"Indeed , Mouni is pissed off her little adventure didn't work out so she is probably trying to find out why Sonarika made that decision which would explain her extended stay in Delhi. Plus Sagar suffered from food poisoning and was staying in a hotel room all week"

"Damn....that's.....unbelievable"

Hemant felt something loosen in his chest. Relief. But no revival. Too late. Too broken. Too much devastation in his life to ignore. He nodded. 

"Good for her"

And he meant it. But then he wondered , why? Why did she reject the double date? Her recent confession went through his head over again. She might be really trying to fix herself. But Hemant is not willing to take that chance again. She has done this before , and she had also broke it as usual. He is too scared to have faith in her anymore. Hemant decided , it was better to move on from her, he does not want to risk it again for the sake of himself. With a reverred focus , Hemant stayed in the party , ignoring Sonarika's memory and staying with his drive to move away from her for good.


FEW DAYS LATER AT THE SILVER BEACH VILLA


A few days later, at home, Hemant sat on the floor of his bedroom. He had boxes around him. They were memories, photos, movie tickets, greeting cards. Fragments of a life. He carefully placed pictures of Sonarika inside a box. Their wedding moments. Their first holiday. Honeymoons. Coffee dates. Even the naughty video from the sex room. All of it now placed in this box. The wall where their wedding photo was meant to hang now held a guitar gifted to him by Dheeraj. Beside it—Large portraits of Karan and Anjali. Smiling. Growing. His new world. Only one photo of Sonarika remained. A small family picture. Placed quietly on the bedroom desk. Respectfully. He sealed the box.

He wrote on it "Sona" and proceeded to place it in the store room. Next to that box layed three more boxes , one named "Sanju" , other named "Kira" and the final one named "Ash". Now Sonarika joined his legacy. His legacy of heartbreak , legacy of destruction , the path of moving on again. He closed the door. Exhaled deeply. As id a lifetime of weight was finally lifted from his shoulders. Now he saw a new path before him , one that involved Karan and Anjali. And to give them peace , he must take out the AZRAEL Syndicate one by one. So that finally he can be Hemant and live his life of peace and closure and spend the rest of it with Karan and Anjali. And maybe perhaps a certain someone.

But right now , he needed a new beginning. 

A New Journey. He picked up his phone.

"Raquel, book me a flight to Amsterdam. No rush!" he said, 

A pause. A smile formed. A certain someone was waiting. She dreamed about a surprise , and he thinks its time to fullfill that. And maybe just maybe , Pranitha is probably the right answer for his life!


Then Hemant remembered that its been a while he talked to Karan. So he sat on the chair facing the sea. He tried video call but it wasn't answered. He tried again and still it wasn't answered. Wondering what's wrong , he tried a regular call. 

Ring. Ring. Ring.

No answer. He tried again. Now a slight worry covering him. But this time, someone picked up.

"Hello?"

"Anju?" Hemant recognized her voice instantly.

"Bhaiya!" she replied, surprised.

"Where is everyone?" he asked gently.

“We’re not in Delhi Bhaiya , We’re in Nainital" Anjali said. 

“Nainital? Nice choice for the vacation. So everyone gone there together!" 

Hemant frowned slightly. He thought about the usual family fun at the hills. But her voice softened.

"No Bhaiya… this is not a leisure trip. We’re here for Samhita’s memorial"

His chest tightened. He remembered Sonarika telling him about the tragedy of her younger sister. Gone at a very young age. Samhita. Five years old. Passed away in a fall from a cliff. A name that still haunted Sonarika.

"I’m sorry Anju… I forgot the date" Hemant said quietly. 

"It’s okay, Everyone’s… emotional. Especially Didi. She hasn’t come here in years" Anjali replied. 

"And Karan?" Hemant asked.

"He’s trying to be strong. But he keeps asking why Mumma is so sad" she said. 

Hemant closed his eyes.

"Take care of him, Don’t let him feel this too deeply" he said softly. 

"I will" Anjali promised.

There was a pause.

"Bhaiya… Papa is also very shaken" she added.

"Why?" Hemant asked.

“He recieved a letter from an old friend. It was lost in some post office for years and reached him only now. Papa claims its the final letter meant for him from his long lost friend" 

She said. Hemant’s brows knit. 

"Who?"

"A businessman, From Azerbaijan" Anjali replied. 

The word hit him like a gunshot. Azerbaijan. His mind fractured. Fire. Screams.
Charred house. Manush Rustom’s burned face. Rebecca’s hollow eyes. Sareen’s lifeless body. Nightmares he had buried under layers of violence and lies clawed their way back.

"H-His name?" Hemant asked, voice barely steady.

“He owned mines there....his name is..." Anjali continued casually.

Hemant’s breathing slowed. Too slow. Then she said it.

"Mr. Manush Rustom"

The world collapsed inward. Air vanished. Sound muted. The house blurred. His heart slammed against his ribs as if trying to escape. Manush Rustom. His mentor. His protector. His second father. The man whose family had been slaughtered. Because of him. Nineteen years ago.

"Bhaiya? Are you there?" Anjali’s voice came faintly. 

Hemant couldn’t speak. His throat closed. His hands trembled.

"Bhaiya… is something wrong?"

He forced himself to breathe. Once. Twice. He swallowed.

“I’m… I’m fine...just worked up from the cleaning!!" he lied softly.

"Oh, Isn't Tara around?" she said.

"Tara is gone outside to get some house supplies" he replied.

"Okay Bhaiya , I have to go. I'll tell Didi you called. Take care. Bye" 

Anjali smiled through the phone. 

"Bye" Hemant whispered.

The call ended. Two worlds that was never supposed to meet has just interlapped with each other. How is this possible? How the hell does his father-in-law of all people know his mentor Rustom? What is the letter Rustom has sent to him? Inside Hemant, everything was breaking.

He leaned his head back against the chair, staring at nothing. If Jagjeet knew…If Sonarika ever knew…If they ever learn who Michael King really is…it will be over....over in many ways for Hemant. In an instant , he would be the ultimate betrayer to Sonarika , Michael King will be revived and turned into Hemant Kumar's legacy not his darker past. He would be exposed. And when that happened—His carefully built life would explode into chaos. 
 

Surprisingly outside , it started to rain. The first rain of the coming season in Mumbai. But for Hemant this was a bad omen , a reminder that Michael King is not just his legacy , its also a ticking time bomb. 

What happens when Sonarika finds out? What will her reaction be? Will she take Karan away from him? Will she take Anjali too? 


Hemant collapsed on the floor realizing the deeper consequences. As the rain came cascaded down. It was a reminder , that whatever happens , there is a possibility that he will loose everything!

Hemant watched as the storm arrived in Mumbai. Hemant contemplated the future knowing that uncertainty awaited him. But for the first time he was scared , scared not of AZRAEL , not of Zarir , or even Lai Tong. He was scared of Sonarika , as she can either make him or break him with the truth!


And for the first time in a long time , Hemant Kumar was afraid once again!

                                                                                                                                                                                                         END OF CHAPTER 30

[Harry Jordan]

This was another lengthy chapter. I know a lot of readers want me to do this weekly but honestly when I try to do it , it lowers the quality and I feel the narrative gets rushed. I don't want to compromise on the quality so sometimes unexpected delays. I planned to post this in the morning but then I noticed some grammatic errors and problems so I had to rectify it which resulted in that unexpected delay. I will again try to do this weekly but like I said no guarantees.


Now back to the story , I did state in the previous post that I did tone down some stuff which I will reveal now as I don't plan to include in this story. Initially there was a lot of sex involved in the story which I toned some of it down. First one I removed is the moment Sonarika and Hemant talks , during their conversation. They end up recollecting events of July 2 , 2012. This recollection ends up making them horny and this results in Sonarika masturbating to Hemant's memory while Hemant goes to a party late and hooks up with another celebrity. It turned this idea down because this would force me to show Sonarika's perspective and I don't want to do it just yet , simply saving her part of the narration in the story for a later chapter. Also I didn't want to turn Hemant into a full on Gigolo LOL 


The other was also another Celebrity fling which had Hemant hooking up with Ananya Pandey and Shanaya Kapoor which results in Hemant's first threesome in the story after a long time. But I didn't wanna overdo the "Celebrity" fling thing so I instead toned it down and reduced it into a small hookup between him and Ananya in her vanity which complimented the story as it grew potential to the equation between Pranitha and Hemant.


Now this one I scrapped it way early in this chapter where the original idea was for the chapter to end with Meghna and Hemant having a night of sex where after he saves her from Yadav , she comes to Hemant's place at night and in secret Tara films it for a future plan to dismantle Hemant. But I scrapped it the moment I started writing and instead focused on their equations interlapping and giving a tease of reveal to each other. Now Meghna is doubtful about Hemant and she is now aware Hemant has a dark past. Will she stay away from Hemant or try to target him anyways? Only time will tell.


This was also a plan I completely abandoned , which was the chapter to end with a sex scene between Pranitha and Hemant as she returns to Mumbai by the end and they consumnate their relationship. But now I have a far more erotic idea for them to go through so we will see about that in the future chapter.

These were the changes I made and have no interest of including it in the story in the future!

Obviously the best part I liked was Sonarika and Hemant's history actually interlapping with each other with the reveal of Sonarika's father and Hemant's mentor being good friends. This opens the doorway for Sonarika to see the reveal of Michael King. At the same time it also helps in flipping the narrative as now Hemant is in the betrayer seat. It all now lays in the hands of Sonarika on how she react. Will she feel betrayed and heartbroken realizing her husband was not the same man he was? That he had darker secrets of his own? Would she feel her marriage was a lie? Will she assume Hemant as a bad influence and take Karan away from him? only time will tell.


The coming chapters will have more action of both kinds , and this chapter already set up the next big action setpiece to take place in Lebonon so exciting days are ahead. I hope you all have a good read and really feel satisfied by this chapter because I really loved writing the sex LOL.

Dangerous situations are coming and the story is about to take some dramatic showdowns and confrontations in the future , Wait and Read as the sage of Love Sex and War continues as the war of Michael King Vs AZRAEL and Sonarika Vs Meghna gets more personal and dangerous!


      From Your's Truly

 HARRY JORDAN 

[Harry Jordan]

Loved the twist at the end and Hemant's fear . 
Worth the Wait ! . The Story just took another Turn .   

10/10 Chapter . 

Glad that you loved it. The twist is pretty simple which is that Jagjeet and Rustom actually know each other for a while. They were close enough to send letters to each other , probably old friends. But Jagjeet has his own doubts about Hemant which will be revealed in the Sonarika part of the story.

As for the Azerbaijan part , its pretty clear for now that Rustom and his family were masaccred by the Zarir family members whom Michael King later killed pretty brutally. Which is the main part of Hemant's trauma as he could not save them as he wasn't with them at that specific time. And Daraaksh was in somewhere else when Michael King masaccred his family members. So this revenge fire is pointed from both sides.

And yes for Hemant , this is a terrifying part. Because right now , the whole point of his war is to put Michael King to rest and find closure so that he can be Hemant and be part of his family or whatever that is left of it , but what happens when there is nothing left? What if when Sonarika learns the truth , she not only distances further herself but at the same time take Karan away from him?

What will then Hemant's future be , will Hemant's existence die and he completely transforms to Michael King and become a brutal warlord or some sort of hope is there for him in the horizon? Only time will tell! 

[Harry Jordan]

I am convinced that your suggestion for brightening up the history of Sonarika and Hemant, if realised, will be the highlight of the coming chapter.

I am already looking forward to it ...


-----------
Demeter

I am glad that you loved the latest chapter and your enthusiasm to the lore of the story. So , I thought why not spike some fun by giving you some more context on the lore.


Rustom is actually a descendant of native Irani lineage with his family having ties to the Qajar Dynasty that once unified and ruled Iran from the 17th century. Now the Indian connection to him comes with Rustom's mother being a Parsi from India and being raised by her for a lifetime  , he adapted her surname of Rustom and keeps a little Parsi belief in life. His wife Rebecca is an Italian descendant but follows Jewish faith. Rustom's mindset and dynamic in life is close to his mother teaching him about his paternal roots to the Qajar Dynasty who reunified Iran together and brought order. This had played a major role in Rustom's life as he believed in order that protectedn the world. He was involved in shady businesses but it was all for good reasons. He was kind of a "Vito Corleon" from Godfather but with a good moral compass and always drawing line between good and evil. But his morality and ideals were challenged and shaken when Michael King entered his life. The shared history they had which eventually led them to a darker conclusion is what will be explored in Michael's backstory.


As for the Zarirs , they're basically the worst kind of people , the typical "Savage" and "Ruthless" and "Evil" side of a '. patriarchy who has the legacy just like the Turks. Brutality and Slaughter are their legacy , their concept of humanity is completely different , either agree with them or get trampled. And they show no mercy , not even to women or children. The worst of the worst. Their ancestry is filled with crimes as the Zarir's are a generations of crime and mayhem that laid remote in Azarbaijaan. But our current villain Daraaksh is slightly different , as even though his motivations are purely on revenge for the murder of his loved ones , his methods and tactics are different thanks to upbringing being raised in a different setting than the rural Azarbaijaan. His early life will be explored in Michael's backstory in the future chapters.


Now for Sonarika's father , he didn't hate Hemant for being "Fat and Weak" , he hated him because he still doesn't know much about Hemant. Hemant's history is a but complicated and Sonarika's father has doubts regarding his "story" of being kicked out of the army for being unfit in combat situations. Plus he too has no idea about his actual military history and Hemant's past as Michael King. So this long lost letter of Rustom now found could be a time that will crumble a family apart with explosion of revelations. Jagjeet has his reaons and doubts and there is an apt reason for it which will be revealed in the later chapters.


Hemant's fear regarding Sonarika is not about her finding out but more like how she will react. If she reacts in a negative way , Hemant has developed a fear that she will snatch away Karan and Anjali from him. This builds into his fear of being lonely and thus making himself vulnerable for Michael King to takeover and completely kill Hemant and become something else. That is the deep fear he has , as he is scared Sonarika just might ruin him as he understands his own sins of keeping his past away from her!


Now for the "gigolo Hemant" aspect , it was purely to build the attraction between Hemant and Pranitha and spice up their "unusual relationship". The whole point of his sexual adventures with these celebrities is to tease Pranitha and build a relationship that is apt to their kind of lifestyle. Plus they are two characters that will not rush into a relationship , Pranitha has her own ups and downs in the relationships and Hemant has his too , so their bonding is build on two individuals that are too afraid for a commitment with the fear their legacy with relationships might ruin it. This also helps exploring their relationship which is quiet sensual and at the same time very amicable as this heightens their chemistry with each other. In many aspects , you will see Pranitha and Hemant are actually meant for each other. But are they really? or is it just their infactuations too powerful to not see the flaws in their relationship? That only time will tell.


Once again , glad that you loved the story and like I teased , the Lebanon action sequence will be another big action setpiece like the Dilawar takedown and Operation Jewel Thief but much much more dangerous and thrilling. Wait and read as the Age Of Darkness is about to take devious turns in the story as conflicts gets tighter and lives are in danger!!

[Harry Jordan]

UPDATE

 Once again , I am really overwhelmed and appreciate the positive response to recent chapters of my story. I know a lot of you want me to give a weekly update,  I seriously try it but at times it simply doesn't work out that way. However , since all of you enjoy the quality of it rather than quantity , I always make sure I don't compromise on it. I am again aiming for this Saturday to post Chapter 31. I might try doing this on a weekly basis as until now this chapter has indeed gone way too long so I might split it into two. Another reason for a Saturday posting is that the coming chapter 31 will be quiet "Spicy". With a lot of characters involved and specifically two celebrity cameos that didn't happen before. All of these will be part of that "Spicy" element and this chapter will feature some good amount of sex and some of the readers can guess why considering the tease of the last chapter. BUT you can also expect the unexpected when it comes to this saga as things are about to get tense not only in between the sheets , but their entire lives as well!!! 

         

    FROM YOURS TRULY

 HARRY JORDAN 

[Harry Jordan]

UPDATE

Sorry for the unexpected delay guys. Unfortunately , my drive got corrupted and I lost many of my initial chapter's data which thankfully I have recovered from the site here. My initial rough work of the whole story was also corrupted so I had to redo some of the plot I had already done. After some analysis , I realized many readers are quiet comfortable with Saturdays for the Chapter Reads. So I am hereby making an announcement that from now on , every update on future chapters will come only on Saturdays. So if you see me miss the last Saturday , you can expect the next Saturday for the update to come online.

Another reason for my delay is I am also developing a passion project. A Video of sorts featuring my story to hype its world and narrative. Its still an early work but I accidentally ended up giving some time to work on it which resulted in my recent chapter polishing work to delay. This one is also developing quiet well and very soon I will have a surprise ready for you all right here. 

For now this is a little tease in the form of an Image , it will be something quiet EXPLOSIVE!

[Harry Jordan]

I hope the update comes today

Its coming online in few hours.....just finishing up some AI arts to the chapter and last leg of corrections.....it will be online soon!!!   

[Harry Jordan]

I have a family emergency which is why Chapter 31 is delayed....however it will come in few hours.....I will post a simple message before I post the chapter for active readers to be ready.

[Harry Jordan]

ITS HERE!!!! 

So beloved Readers , 

     The last few days has been total chaos , but thankfully I am posting it right away. And I believe this delay was a boon in disguise due to recent events. I don't know how many of you are Kiara Advani fans but I guess this recent chapter will give them some joy after the debacle yesterday LOL. I have split my work on this chapter to compensate for the delay so Chapter 31 is coming up right now while Chapter 32 will be posted without delay on Saturday. We are moving into a more portion of the story anyways so you will see "Sex" to play a smaller role in future chapters. Regardless hope you have a good read with Chapter 31 as this features majority   kind of action and one small "revenge" sequence. Hope you enjoy this spicy chapter!

HAPPY HOLI TO ALL READERS! 

       From Your's Truly

 HARRY JORDAN 

[Harry Jordan]

                                                                                                                  CHAPTER 31

The sun was only beginning to rise over Silver Beach, its pale orange glow stretching across the restless Arabian Sea. Hemant’s shoes struck the damp sand in a steady rhythm as he sprinted along the shoreline, his breath measured, controlled. Each stride was an act of defiance against fatigue, against memory, against everything that once held him back. The salty wind slapped against his face, but he didn’t slow down. Pain was familiar. Pain was useful. It reminded him that he was still alive—and that he still had work to do.



Once, during these morning runs, his thoughts had always drifted toward Sonarika. Her smile. Her promises. Her betrayal. The hollow silence that followed her departure. But now, there was nothing. No bitterness, no longing, no regret. That chapter had been sealed and buried. In its place stood something colder, sharper. A singular purpose. Revenge was no longer an emotion to him—it was a mission.


As he ran, images surfaced uninvited: Manush Rustom standing beside him in a dimly lit warehouse, teaching him how to read enemies, how to anticipate betrayal, how to survive. Manush had turned him into Michael King, the shadow that haunted the underworld. He had been more than a mentor—he had been family. And Hemant had failed him. Failed to arrive in time. Failed to stop the massacre that wiped out Manush and everyone he loved. That failure was etched into his bones.


He slowed to a jog, fists clenched, jaw tight. The AZRAEL Syndicate had orchestrated that slaughter. They had ruled through fear, corruption, and bloodshed. Hemant had tried to walk away from that world, to reinvent himself, to build something legitimate. But nightmares didn’t respect new beginnings. Every night, the screams returned. Every morning, the same conclusion waited for him: peace would only come when AZRAEL was erased.



Back at his Silver Beach villa, the private gym echoed with the dull thud of fists against leather. Hemant stood before a heavy punching bag, sweat already soaking through his vest. In his mind, the bag was no longer an object. It was Daraaksh Zarir. It was Lai Tong. Every punch carried a name. Every strike was fueled by memory. He attacked with relentless precision—hooks, elbows, knees—until his knuckles burned and his arms trembled.



Amir Hassan haunted his thoughts the most. The Lebanese general was a legend of cruelty, a man who found pleasure in breaking people slowly. Once the muscle of AZRAEL, he now commanded a fortified base in the mountains of Tabarja, hidden within an old Ottoman fort. It was surrounded by concrete walls, watchtowers, and armed patrols. Many had tried to breach it. None had succeeded. But Hemant didn’t see a fortress. He saw a challenge.



And inside that fortress was Lai Tong.



Lai had been a shadow in Shanghai, living in the long shadow of his older brother Tong. When Michael King had killed Tong, it had ignited a fire in Lai that never went out. Now , years later, Lai struck back—murdering Ricky Tan, one of Hemant’s closest allies, and Father Dominic, the priest who had once saved him from drowning in darkness. Their deaths were not accidents. They were messages. And Hemant had received them loud and clear. He slammed the punching bag one final time, sending it swinging violently. Breathing hard, he rested his forehead against it, eyes closed. He wasn’t angry anymore. Anger burned out quickly. What remained was something far more dangerous—focus. Calculation. Patience.


Later that afternoon, the polished corridors of YOD Enterprise reflected his silhouette as he walked toward the weapons bay. The company had begun as a defense manufacturer, a legitimate front to rebuild his life. Now it had grown into a sprawling enterprise, respected in international markets. To the world, Hemant was a businessman. Inside these walls, he was still a warrior.


The weapons bay hummed with controlled energy. Targets lined the far wall. Racks of firearms gleamed under white lights. Hemant selected a Vector assault rifle first, checking its balance, its weight, its response. He raised it, exhaled, and fired. The first round pierced the center of the target. Then another. And another. His movements were fluid, mechanical, honed by years of survival.


Next came the custom Masada fitted with an ACOG scope. He adjusted the optics, narrowed his eyes, and shifted to long-range drills. Each shot landed with surgical precision. To him, these weren’t just exercises. They were rehearsals. Every trigger pull was a practice run for Tabarja. For narrow corridors. For armed guards. For chaos.


Between drills, fragments of memory slipped through his defenses—Ricky laughing over late-night meals in Shanghai, Father Dominic’s gentle voice echoing through Saint Michael’s Church. 
 
"Sometimes its good to let go.."

Hemant had believed it then. Now, he wasn’t so sure. Some debts could only be paid in blood. He lowered the rifle and stared at the shattered targets. They looked like hollow silhouettes now, riddled with holes, erased. That was how he imagined Amir and Lai—reduced from legends to footnotes. Not out of hatred. Out of necessity. AZRAEL had taken too much. It was time they lost everything.


As evening fell over Mumbai, Hemant stood alone in the weapons bay, surrounded by silence and steel. His body was exhausted. His mind was razor-sharp. The path ahead was dangerous, almost suicidal. A fortified mountain base. A ruthless general. A desperate fugitive with nothing left to lose.

But Hemant didn’t hesitate.

This was only the beginning.

Amir Hassan and Lai Tong were first on his list. After them, every remaining shadow of AZRAEL would fall. One by one. Systematically. Relentlessly.

And when it was over, only then would Hemant will truly start to live!


FEW DAYS LATER


Night settled over Mumbai like a held breath as Hemant disappeared into the lower levels of YOD Enterprise. This floor didn’t exist on any official blueprint. Concrete walls were lined with aging monitors, satellite feeds, and physical archives scavenged from conflicts long forgotten. Lebanon glowed on a central screen, the mountains of Tabarja rising like jagged teeth. This wasn’t a place you assaulted blind. This was a place you studied until it gave up its secrets.


Ancient schematics lay spread across a steel table—yellowed blueprints from the Ottoman era, scanned and reconstructed from European war archives. Hidden aqueducts. Smuggler tunnels carved centuries ago. Emergency escape routes designed for pashas and generals who never trusted their own men. Hemant traced the lines with his finger, memorizing every curve, every choke point. Fortresses were arrogant things. They always believed their walls were enough.


Raquel stood across from him, arms folded, eyes sharp. He had pulled the schematics from places that didn’t officially exist anymore—defunct intelligence agencies, private collectors, and one monastery archive that had required more persuasion than money. 

"This tunnel here, it collapsed on the surface during the civil war. But underground? It’s still intact. Leads straight under the eastern barracks" 

Raquel said, tapping a narrow passage marked in faded ink, 

Hemant nodded slowly. 

"That’s our exit, if anything goes wrong" he said. 

Raquel didn’t move. 

“Everything will go wrong, Bhaijaan. Which is why I’m coming with you" 

He corrected. The words hung heavy between them. Hemant turned sharply. 

“No. I won’t risk you. Not for this. I need you here. If I don’t come back—" 

There was no anger in his voice—only finality. Raquel stepped forward. 

"You will come back"

"That’s not the point. My job is to protect what’s left. And I cannot risk you Raquel like this"

Hemant’s jaw tightened. Raquel’s eyes didn’t waver. 

"You don’t get to make that choice alone" His voice dropped, steadier now. 

"I made a vow. When it mattered—when you walked back into the fire—I’d be there. Same as before"

The room went quiet.

Hemant turned away, fists clenched against the table. For a moment, the fortress maps blurred, replaced by another image—another battlefield. Raquel’s older brother bleeding out in his arms years ago, breath rattling, eyes still defiant even as life slipped away. Michael King had held him then. Powerless. Too late again.

"I won’t watch you die like he did" Hemant said quietly. 

"I won’t carry that weight. Not again"

Raquel’s voice softened, but it didn’t break. 

"Because of my brother is exactly why I’m coming. I lost him in your arms. I won’t lose you from a distance" 

He stepped closer. 

"You’re not alone anymore. Don’t push me out"

Hemant exhaled slowly, the fight draining out of him. He looked at Raquel then—not as a lieutenant, not as a soldier—but as family. Someone who stood by him, despite the darkness, despite the cost. Emotion surfaced, raw and unwelcome, tightening his chest.

"Alright, but you follow my lead. Always" Hemant said at last. 

"Always" Raquel gave a small, firm nod. 

Later, as weapons were prepped and gear laid out with ritualistic precision, Hemant’s mind betrayed him. Sonarika’s face surfaced uninvited—older now in his memory, harder around the edges. He had told himself she was a closed chapter. Yet the past had a cruel sense of timing. Recently events had revealed something he never expected: Manush Rustom and Jagjeet Sharma had been friends long before Hemant ever existed in their lives.

That connection was a fuse burning backward toward him.

If Sonarika learned who Michael King truly was—learned how deep the blood ran—there would be no neutral ground. No quiet understanding. She might see him as a threat. As poison. And worst of all, she could take Karan away. For good.

That fear sat heavier than any fortress, any syndicate, any underworld.

Hemant paused, resting his hands on the edge of the table, eyes closed. He had survived gangs, syndicates, wars, and ghosts. But the thought of losing his son—of being erased from Karan’s life—terrified him in a way nothing else could.

Still, he straightened.

Lebanon awaited. Amir Hassan. Lai Tong. AZRAEL.

One battle at a time, he reminded himself.

But somewhere deep down, Hemant knew—this journey wouldn't just decide who lived or died. It would decide what parts of his past would forever be imprinted on him.

                                                                                                                             (CHAPTER TO BE CONTD)

[Harry Jordan]

                                                                                                     (CHAPTER CONTD)

THE NEXT EVENING IN AMSTERDAM



The train from Amsterdam hummed smoothly toward Zandvoort, its windows reflecting streaks of late afternoon light. Hemant sat by the glass, phone in hand, replaying the short video Pranitha had posted hours earlier. The wind had tangled her hair as she laughed into the camera, the North Sea rolling behind her. The black bikini she wore contrasted sharply against her sun-kissed skin, every movement effortless, confident.

It wasn’t just desire that stirred in him—it was anticipation long deferred. Months of charged conversations. Playful late-night confessions. A tension that had never been given a body.

When the train pulled into Zandvoort aan Zee station, his pulse was no longer steady. He stepped onto the platform dressed simply—white half-sleeve shirt, denim jeans, sunglasses pushed into his collar. The North Sea breeze greeted him with a cool bite as he dragged his trolley toward the shore.

Sand resisted his steps, swallowing the wheels of his bag, slowing him down. But his focus was elsewhere. He remembered her teasing mention of the nude section of the beach during their last call. 

"How romantic and erotic would it be if you one day.....walked here.....laid me down on the sand.....ripped my bikini off.....and fucked me senseless!!!" 

She had said, her tone light but loaded. He had ignored it then. Now, he wondered if she meant for him to follow that clue. He passed beach pole 68, where the atmosphere shifted subtly—quieter, more private. The stretch of sand ahead seemed almost deserted, the vast horizon tinted gold by the lowering sun. For a brief second, doubt flickered through him. Had he misread everything? Had this surprise been foolish?

Then he saw her.

A solitary figure emerging from the sea.



Pranitha walked through the shallow water toward the shore, droplets trailing down her body, the setting sun igniting her silhouette in amber light. The black bikini clung to her curves, and every step was unhurried, unaware. She looked untouchable—like a vision sculpted by light and tide.

Something primal surged through him.

He let the trolley fall. The briefcase slipped from his hand, forgotten in the sand. He moved toward her without thinking, without planning—just instinct.

It was only when he was close enough to hear the water break around her ankles that she noticed him. Her eyes widened in disbelief, breath catching.

"Hemant… you’re he—"

He didn’t let her finish.

He closed the distance and kissed her.

The contact was electric—raw, sudden, months of restraint collapsing into a single breathless moment. Her surprise melted quickly into hunger. Her fingers curled into his shoulders as she leaned into him, the sea wind tangling around them. The kiss deepened, slowed, then intensified again, like waves building and breaking.

She pulled back just enough to look at him, eyes dark, searching. 

"You came" she whispered, voice trembling with something deeper than shock.

"For you" he replied, barely audible.

Her hands moved to the buttons of his shirt, deliberate now. Each one undone felt like a boundary dissolving. He shrugged it off, the fabric falling into the sand, and his palms traced the curve of her waist, the warmth of her skin still heated by the sun. The world around them faded—the distant gulls, the soft murmur of the tide—until there was only breath against breath.


They didn't speak as they kissed harder and more intently than she thought she ever had done, feeling his hand slide up under her now loose bikini top to cup her breast, his fingers circling the nipple to make it stiffen and screw itself up as his other hand stroked her sides and back, reaching up to pull at her hair a little before diving down into the back of her bikini bottoms. Breaking apart, they both gave a gasp as his breast-cupping hand immediately pulled her half undone bikini top off over her head to leave her completely topless. She saw him take in her perky chest for a moment before they started kissing hotly again, this time both his hands going for her chest, groping her completely as her hands ran through his hair and down his muscular shoulders and back which are now exposed thanks to the discarded shirt, letting one drop down between them to land squarely on his already mighty erection.

She felt his hips push up a little as she wrapped her dainty hand around his manhood, taking a good grip on it and starting to work it a little to stroke him through his pants as he thoroughly squeezed and groped her breasts, though one hand very shortly slid down her tummy towards her bikini bottoms. Pranitha leaned back a little to offer him slightly better access, and the move wasn't lost on him at all as his hand pushed slowly but steadily down her toned body to her damp bikini bottoms, still wet from the sea but now getting a little wetter from something else. His fingers slid over the smooth, firm bulge of her pussy, feeling her quiver a little as they kissed whilst he started to massage it, then she let out a gasp round there smooches as he suddenly pulled up and then boldly pushed his hand down into her bikini and onto her pussy. She didn't have a problem with it, she was just taken by surprise as he did it, feeling her wonderfully smooth skin and tiny pubic hair under his fingers and hand as he did it, immediately seeking out her clit with his fingers, making her give a shiver and a gasp as he started working at it.

Getting into a rhythm on her needy clit, they continued to kiss deeply, their tongues entwining and working together, working between fast and slow kisses, getting more aggressive at moments which raised the stakes, such as when Pranitha's stroking hand reached up and undid his boxers, deftly releasing them and then slipping down inside to wrap her slim digits around his throbbing manhood. She immediately started to stroke him again, feeling simply sublime as she worked to get his boxers down a bit, making their kisses really climb in intensity as his hand worked both her pussy and her breasts, pulling and pinching at her now very hard nipples as he circled her clit, before his hand dove deeper into her bikini bottoms as his fingertips slipped over her juicy, leaking entrance, making her shiver. He wasted no time whatsoever in curling his finger to press his middle finger into her haven, bending his hand to let him push his whole finger up into her wonderfully hot, slippery pussy, Pranitha sighing satisfiedly with an open smile as she helped by pressing down onto him completely while he nibbled at her lip.

She gave a murmur of pleasure as she locked into more kissing with him, her hand giving a good squeeze of his cock, making it surge in her hand, urging her to stroke him a little faster for a moment, not wanting to rush him as she started to ride just a little on his penetrating finger. Pulling his hand back, she gave a grunt as he quickly added a second, stretching her open a little bit more, but still not as much as his decent sized cock would do, feeling his thick member pulsing in her hand as she stroked him carefully, ready to get it inside her now. He worked his fingers in her pussy, hooking back to seek her G-spot, making her feel the deep, rumbling sensations of pleasure inside her that such stimulation caused, her pussy getting even wetter round his fingers.

Kissing passionately, Pranitha almost didn't realise what he was doing as his fingers slipped out of her and his arms locked around her smooth back under her arms, suddenly pulling her forwards into his lap. They just worked perfectly in sync, Pranitha spreading her thighs and pulling her legs up to wrap them round his hips, dropping her spare hand to her crotch as she continued to squeeze him as he pulled her into place. Pulling her bikini aside, she held his cock up for herself, absolutely granite hard and waiting for her as she pushed up with her thighs, rocking her hips a moment to work him between her puffy lips before she sank down, his bulbous head popping into her incredibly wet, soft pussy with the slightest pressure, both of them gasping at the fantastic feeling. His hand slid up her arched back and grabbed a handful of her long, dark hair, pulling her down harder so her pussy swallowed his entire cock, Pranitha grabbing Hemant's shoulders as she shuddered at him pressing deep into her.

Grinding together a moment, they just breathed heavily at their connection and then resumed their heavy kissing, tongues fighting even more aggressively now. Pranitha lifted herself on his cock, right to the head, before pushing down once more, feeling him shake beneath her, his hands sliding down to her hips now to control the pace. Helping to lift her, Hemant also thrust up into her as he pulled her down, quickly governing and building a quick, deep rhythm that had his cock stretching and probing areas deep inside the Mehta family princess she'd forgotten were there. Their kisses became hungry, gasping efforts as they fucked, their bodies fitted together so perfectly as they fornicated, kissing and biting at each others necks and shoulders, Pranitha's toes digging into the sand to gain leverage as they had sex right there in the ground.

That didn't last long however, as their rampant lust took over, and so did he. He pushed up from the sand with a turn and then slammed her down firmly on the beach, landing on top of her to pin her down and keep on fucking her, pushing her hair back from her face to kiss her further as he pumped his hips deeply between her toned legs. She pulled him tightly over her, leaning over his shoulder as she gasped heavily for air, pushing and rolling her hips for him as they screwed on the beach, feeling the damp sand pressed into her back as he drilled her, just loving every moment and every inch of the passionate fuck she was getting.

Reaching down, Hemant hooked her legs up under the knees, pulling them up and spreading them open for him as he leaned up and started fucking her a little harder but slower, really working to jam his cock as deep and hard into her as possible, making her give a strained grunt with every one as his head bashed into her cervix. He was completely controlling her now, and she let him, laid flat on her back on the sand, looking up at him. She grunted as he slammed his cock deep and hard, making her feel at her limit but wonderfully tested. Their eyes met, locked together as he pumped in every last millimetre of his cock to her soft pussy, unable to get any more into her. Hemant gave a particularly hard thrust and Pranitha winced, her pussy clenching delightfully around him, squeezing at his cock and spurring him to pick it up. Pranitha just squealed in pleasure as Hemant pounded on her very hard, fast and deep for a few moments, absolutely overwhelmed by the smash-and-grab tactics on her womb.

With one deep thrust and a grind, he slipped himself out of her snatch, making her open her beautiful eyes to see why, to be greeted by his hands grabbing her bikini bottoms and pulling them down her legs, revealing her pussy and its nicely trimmed pubic hair. She had a nice shady outline of very short dark hair above her pussy. His eyes stayed locked on it as he pulled her black bikini off, allowing Pranitha to quickly take the initiative to pull her feet up and get her toes into Hemant's partially removed boxers, pushing them down his legs a bit to give him the hint to finish the job, discarding them onto the sand with her bottoms.

He suddenly grabbed her hand and pulled her up from the beach, and as she rocked to her knees he suddenly dropped onto his back and pulled her over his crotch, grinding onto his hard cock. Pranitha just gave a smile at Hemant's grin from sneakily pulling her on top and lifted herself up from him, letting his cock spring up behind her dripping, loosened pussy, loving how hard he was for her. Reaching back over her firm bum, she held him in position and then pushed back, making him thrust in response, allowing her wonderfully wet pussy to engulf his manhood as they both sighed deeply once more. There was no problem now in pushing herself all the way down on the first thrust, just sinking down to get all of him inside her, feeling him fit just right as she gave a shiver, his hands sliding to her hips. Looking down, she could see him looking up at her, her pretty face, long hair, perky but fleshy breasts, slim waist and thick, small dark V of hair, right above where her juicy snatch was wrapped tightly round his cock.

He gave a shudder and a groan as she squeezed her pussy as tight as possible on him, absolutely vice like, before she started to ride, holding his shoulders as his fingers trailed through her soft pubic hair. She arched her back to push her lovely boobs out towards him as he thrust up to meet her as she pushed down on his erection, building up the pace till she was pumping down hard on him, her tight ass slapping against his thighs. She knew she was doing something right for him as she rode, squeezing her pussy, as his hand grabbed at her breast, giving an enthusiastic grope, and at her firm ass, taking a good hold on it. Pranitha didn't mind, loving her body being worshipped in such a way as she rode Hemant's cock hard, leaning down to kiss him passionately, jolting her hips on his cock in short, sharp thrusts to work at his head, feeling him arch in pleasure beneath her. She moved down to him at his neck as she worked her hips, rolling and rotating them as much as possible to really stimulate the tip of his thick cock. Kneeling back up over him, she squeezed her pussy tight again, making him shiver, only this time she didn't release. She worked out, and could hold her muscles well, and with that she pushed down onto Hemant, feeling his rock hard cock drive up through her tight pussy, stretching her out as his hands grabbed her hips and pulled her down to make her take it, stirring up his dominance and lust once more.

Hemant quite forcefully pushed Pranitha off his cock, onto her knees on the sand beside him. Quickly pulling up to his knees himself, he pushed her down to all fours with an easy shove to her back, Pranitha evidently quite aware what Hemant wanted to do to her and happy to welcome it, feeling the sweat crawling on her sandy back. She gave a gasp as his hand connected hard with her ass, delivering a good spank to her firm rear, Pranitha was shocked , as she didn't expect Hemant to be a spanker. And then he grabbed her hips and pressed his cock to her juicy opening. She didn't wait for him, shoving back hard to get him inside her, feeling him almost fall over her back as he just slipped deeply into her silky haven, his cock surging inside her, hardening a little. Pranitha knew it wouldn't be long now, Hemant was close, and so was she.

"Ahh....ahhh....ahhh"

She gave a murmur of pleasure at the rough, scratching sensation of him brushing sand from her back as they built up a rhythm again quickly, pumping down into her, rubbing over her G-spot now and quickly making her orgasm gather inside her, making her realise she'd cum a lot sooner than she thought. She started to fuck back harder onto him, reaching down to give her clit a good, firm rub to take her close as fast as possible. Pranitha could tell by the way he was fucking her that Hemant was getting close, as he had a tight hold on her waist and was pumping vigorously into her and going deep into her pussy, not quite with the primal lust of an imminent climax but clearly close. It was a treat for her then that her orgasm was breaking on her now, and she withdrew her hand to dig it back into the sand with her other one, shoving back hard on him now to get him as deep as possible and spur him to pick up the pace.

"mhhmm.....ahhh.....mmm....mmmgghhmm"

She wasn't disappointed, as after few speechless moments of him pounding her like she'd never felt she burst into a huge orgasm, her whole body tightening up, back arching and pussy clenching on his invading cock. It didn't stop him though, he continued to slam against her ass, lighting her body up even more as her orgasm rushed through her, making her arms shake beneath her as she wailed her ecstasy to the secluded beach, crashing waves and soaking sweat. Both of them were absolutely dripping wet now from the sweat of their exertion, Pranitha feeling his fingers dig into her side as he suddenly pounded on her with the kind of primal lust she expected when he was about to cum. He was worried that she'd ask him to pull out, but was delighted and even more turned on when at the slightest hesitation she suddenly thrust back hard to take him, signalling that she was his to own and fill up.

"aahhh.....aahhh....aaahhh.....ahhhmmm"

Grabbing her waist hard he just went for it, letting instinct take over as he pounded on her, holding back as long as possible, hearing Pranitha screaming with pleasure as his hard fucking of her made her climax again immediately on the bounce in a multiple orgasm, her pussy pulsing and squeezing at Hemant, desperate for his sperm. As he reached his peak he fucked her harder and faster than he knew he could, almost knocking her face down in the sand he was so energetic, pushing up on his toes a bit before jamming himself hard into her, the hardest he had in their first ever session. Hemant felt something give a little inside her as he did, Pranitha knowing it as her cervix yielding, and then exploded deep inside her with a loud cry of release and pleasure, Pranitha loving it as his cock swelled even bigger and harder inside her velvet tunnel. She relished the feel of his cock repeating this several times as Hemant ejaculated heavily within her, shuddering and withdrawing a little then pulling her back by her hips to pull depth with each one, until with one last push, he relaxed, rocking back down on his heels and pulling her with him so she knelt, still embedded on his twitching, softening cock.

Pulling forward slowly, Pranitha slipped off his cock, hearing Hemant gasp as his now sensitive head slid past her tight entrance, though it wasn't so tight after the fucking he'd just given her. She dropped down onto the sand on her side, exhausted after how hard he'd just taken her, looking to him as he lowered himself down beside her, neither of them caring they lay naked on the beach, just pulling in close to one another and sharing a deep, soulful kiss to wrap up their fantastic shag in the wake of their fantastic orgasms. Cuddling close together, they just lay blissfully for a few minutes with each other. As the sun lowered toward the horizon, painting the sky in rose and molten gold, their movements came to a halt but now there was something deeper, more connected. A merging of desire and comfort, of vulnerability and strength.

For Hemant, who had lived so long in old nightmares and broken family darkness, this felt dangerously close to light.

And as the last edge of the sun dipped beneath the sea, he realized something unsettling—

This wasn’t just passion. It was attachment.

The drive from Zandvoort to Noordwijk was wrapped in a comfortable silence, broken only by the low hum of the engine and the occasional shared glance that reignited what they had just experienced. Sand clung stubbornly to their skin and clothes, evidence of a reckless, sun-soaked surrender neither of them regretted.

By the time they entered her hotel suite in Noordwijk, the evening light had softened into a pale silver glow through the tall windows. The room was elegant—muted tones, modern art, and the faint scent of jasmine drifting from somewhere unseen.

Pranitha shut the door behind them and leaned against it, studying him with a slow smile. 

"You’re joining me in the shower" she said, brushing sand from his shoulder.

Hemant arched a brow, though the answer was already written in his eyes. 

"I wouldn’t refuse" he replied quietly.

The bathroom was spacious, all glass and marble, steam rising as warm water cascaded from above. Under the spray, the last traces of sand dissolved, trailing away at their feet. Hemant let his gaze linger over her silhouette—every curve illuminated by the diffused light filtering through frosted glass. There was admiration in the way he looked at her, not just hunger.

Pranitha noticed the change in his breathing, the subtle shift in his posture. She stepped closer, fingertips tracing his chest with teasing deliberation. 

"Careful....We have plans tonight. A very high-profile party. I need you composed" 

She murmured, a playful warning in her tone. 

"You’re the one who insisted on this" He gave a low chuckle. 

"And I don’t regret it...but I do intend to show you off later" she replied smoothly. 

"I didn’t exactly pack for galas and champagne diplomacy" 

He leaned his forehead briefly against hers. She smiled with a confidence that only deepened his intrigue. 

"I know. Don’t worry—I've arranged something for you"

The steam thickened around them, conversation dissolving into touch once more—slower this time, less urgent than the beach, but no less intimate. The water traced paths over intertwined forms, and for a while, the world beyond the glass walls ceased to exist.
When they finally stepped out, wrapped in plush white towels, the mirror fogged behind them, Pranitha tilted her head mischievously. 

"Honestly...I prefer you like this. Just a towel. Saves me the trouble of undressing you later" 

She teased, eyeing him appreciatively, Hemant smirked. 

"Tempting. But I doubt my employees at YOD Enterprise would approve of that dress code"

She laughed, moving toward the garment rack near the bed. 

"Good thing this isn’t a company meet"

With a dramatic flourish, she revealed the outfit she had prepared—a dark velvet-silk textured suit, impeccably tailored, paired with a maroon velvet shirt beneath. The fabric caught the light with understated luxury.

"Try it" she urged.

Moments later, Hemant stood before the mirror, adjusting the cuff, studying his reflection. The deep tones sharpened his features, the cut of the suit emphasizing his frame. He looked less like a businessman escaping for pleasure and more like a man who commanded rooms without raising his voice.
The wardrobe door clicked open behind him.

He turned.

Pranitha stepped out wearing a maroon glittering dress that mirrored his palette perfectly. The fabric shimmered subtly with every movement, a high slit revealing the elegant line of her leg as she walked toward him. The dress hugged her form without excess, refined yet undeniably captivating.



For a moment, neither spoke. They simply admired each other.

"You planned this" he said softly.

"Of course...we're making an entrance together" she replied. 

She reached up, straightening his collar, then rose onto her toes to kiss him—slow, deliberate, filled with promise rather than urgency. It was the kind of kiss that said the night was only beginning.

When they pulled apart, their reflections stood side by side in the mirror—dark velvet and shimmering maroon, power and allure intertwined. Hand in hand, they turned toward the door, ready to step into the lights of a world that saw them only as elegance and influence. Neither of them spoke of what still burned beneath the surface.

They didn’t need to.

                                                                                                                                     (CHAPTER TO BE CONTD)

[Harry Jordan]

                                                                                                                 (CHAPTER CONTD)

SOMEWHERE AT THE HAGUE



The grand ballroom in The Hague shimmered beneath cascading chandeliers, crystal reflecting gold light across polished marble floors. Diplomats, industrialists, royalty-adjacent elites—every corner of influence seemed represented beneath that vaulted ceiling. Conversations overlapped in a refined hum, champagne flutes clinked, and a string quartet played something elegant and restrained.

And then Hemant and Pranitha entered.

Their arrival shifted the atmosphere almost instantly. Heads turned—not subtly, but openly. The dark velvet of Hemant’s suit absorbed the light while the maroon shimmer of Pranitha’s dress caught it, radiating it back in dazzling waves. Together, they looked less like guests and more like the evening’s centerpiece.

Whispers followed them as they moved through the crowd.

"That’s Hemant Kumar right?… of YOD Enterprise?"

"Isn’t that Pranitha Mehta from REGALCORP?"

"They look extraordinary"

Pranitha handled the attention with practiced ease, her hand resting lightly on Hemant’s arm. He, in turn, carried himself with quiet command—offering nods, brief handshakes, measured smiles. To the world, he was a visionary businessman expanding global partnerships.

But across the room, someone had gone completely still.

Hakim Khaled stood near the far balcony, a glass suspended mid-air in his trembling hand. The Algerian trader had navigated shadow economies for decades, thriving in grey markets between legality and crime. His eyes weren’t on Pranitha. They were locked entirely on Hemant.

No.

Not Hemant.

Michael King.

The name thundered inside his skull.

Hakim had believed him dead—someone long buried after the massacre of the Rustom family in Azerbaijan. That bloodbath of the Zarirs had shaken entire underground networks. Michael King’s disappearance afterward had cemented the myth. Some said he was killed. Others said he simply vanished.

But here he was.

Alive.

Refined.

Smiling in public.

The urban legend of the archangel vigilante had just walked into a ballroom.

Hakim’s pulse spiked violently. Stories of Michael King’s hunts resurfaced in his memory—the systematic takedowns of overlords who thought themselves untouchable. Cartels dismantled overnight. Crime lords vanishing without warning. The legend had grown with time, becoming something closer to folklore.

And now Hakim felt something he hadn’t felt in years.

Fear.

At that exact moment, Hemant’s gaze shifted.

Their eyes met.

It lasted barely a second—but for Hakim, it felt eternal.

In that instant, he wasn’t looking at a businessman.

He was looking at a predator who had just identified his prey. The Archangel has found his sinner!

Hakim’s mind spiraled. He imagined Michael recognizing him, recalling past dealings, connecting threads long buried. The hallucination deepened—he could almost see the faint, knowing smirk of the vigilante who dismantled empires.

The glass slipped from his hand.

It shattered on the marble floor.

A nearby waiter flinched as Hakim stumbled backward, colliding into a tray of champagne flutes. Crystal cascaded, drinks splashed across silk gowns, and a ripple of shocked murmurs spread through the ballroom.

"What on earth is his problem?" Pranitha leaned closer to Hemant. 

Hemant watched Hakim retreat, his expression almost amused. 

"Too much champagne, perhaps" he said lightly. 

"Some men lose their balance when the night overwhelms them"

But his eyes followed every frantic step.

Hakim nearly tripped over his own shoes as he rushed toward the exit, pushing past guests, ignoring the staff calling after him. By the time he reached his car, his breathing was ragged.

He drove recklessly toward his luxury villa near Ockenburgh beach, the coastline dark and windswept under the night sky. Once inside, he descended to the basement—a converted control center lined with monitors, encrypted communication systems, and weapon crates.

He grabbed his secure phone and dialed.

Within minutes, several lethal operatives answered—men accustomed to clean, efficient elimination jobs.

"I want him dead tonight" Hakim hissed. 

"Hotel name, room number—I’m sending it now"

One of the assassins paused. 

"And the woman with him?"

"Kill her too" Hakim didn’t hesitate.

He ended the call and turned toward the monitors, watching as his men armed themselves. Assault rifles checked. Suppressors fitted. Vehicles prepared.

Hakim sank into his leather chair, sweat still damp on his collar despite the cold room.

For years, he had feared Michael King might return.

Tonight, he would make sure the legend ended.

Upstairs, miles away, the party still sparkled under chandeliers—unaware that somewhere in the shadows of The Hague, a hunt had just been declared.

And the ghost had been recognized.


BACK AT THE BALLROOM


The ballroom in The Hague had grown livelier as the night deepened. Conversations were looser, laughter louder, and clusters of influence shifted like constellations under chandeliers. Hemant and Pranitha moved effortlessly through it all, pausing for photographs, exchanging introductions, and collecting invitations disguised as compliments.

Near the central gallery, a familiar ripple passed through the crowd.

Two figures stood framed beneath a cascade of warm light—Alia Bhatt and Kiara Advani.



Alia looked radiant in a black saree paired with a gold short-sleeved blouse intricately embroidered, the fabric dbangd in a way that accentuated her graceful, hourglass silhouette. There was an effortless confidence in her posture, a charm that had made her a sensation both on-screen and off. Kiara, beside her, shimmered in a full gold saree with delicate embroidery, the light catching every subtle movement. Petite, poised, and luminous—she carried herself with quiet magnetism.

"Well, that’s unexpected" Pranitha’s eyes sparkled. 

Introductions were quick and warm. Alia’s smile widened as she looked Hemant over with playful curiosity.

"You two are stealing the spotlight tonight" she said, her tone light but undeniably flirtatious. 

"Careful, or we’ll have to compete"

"I wouldn’t dare compete with legends" Hemant offered a measured grin. 

"Flattery works. Keep going" Alia laughed softly. 

Kiara glanced at him, her smile gentler, a little shy but intrigued. 

"You clean up very well" 

She added, almost as an aside, though her eyes lingered a second longer than necessary.

Pranitha observed the exchange with amused calm, her hand resting possessively yet casually at Hemant’s side. 

"I did pick the suit" she said with a playful tilt of her head.

"Clearly, you have excellent taste" Alia replied, raising her glass.

The four of them shared easy banter—cinema, business, travel, the peculiar overlap between power and publicity. Hemant noticed how naturally Pranitha fit into this circle—no awe, no performance. She belonged here. And tonight, so did he.

When the party eventually thinned and the night air outside turned crisp, Hemant and Pranitha returned to their hotel suite, heels and dress shoes clicking softly across polished floors.

The door closed behind them.

Pranitha kicked off her heels first, stretching slightly before turning to him with an expression that was half amusement, half confession.

"There’s something I didn’t tell you"

Hemant loosened his cufflinks. 

"I knew it....those ladies were oogling me in a different way"

She walked closer, fingers trailing along his lapel. 

"Well....we had plans for a private slumber party. Just me, Alia, and Kiara"

He blinked.

"Slumber party?" he repeated carefully.

She smiled at his reaction. 

"Okay fine......we were planning for a night of fucking....I was meant to have a night of carnal pleasure with these beautiful ladies!!" 

Her gaze sharpened slightly. Hemant was momentarily silent, processing.

"And my arrival ruined this?" he asked.

"On paper yes......but it doesn't have to be ruined you know" 

She laughed softly. Her fingers slipped into his hand. 

"I was thinking—why not make it more interesting? After all today was indeed a special day for me because you are here so.....why don't you help me with the party and tag along?"

There it was. An invitation not just to a foursome—but to her world.

Hemant had known Pranitha’s lifestyle leaned toward the bold, the elite, the unashamedly open. He had admired that about her from a distance. Tonight, he was being offered not just a front-row seat. But to participate with her

"If you mean tag along by indulging with those lovely ladies.....I am quiet nervous considering you are around" 

He admitted slowly.

"That’s fair"

He studied her face—confident, expectant, but not pressuring. This wasn’t recklessness. It was choice. Exploration. Trust.

"I was skeptic about your lifestyle and...."

"And now?" she asked softly.

A faint, dangerous smile curved at the edge of his mouth. 

"Now I’m curious"

Her eyes darkened with satisfaction.

"You’ll be fine.....just do the stuff you did with Ananya...though not with Kiara as she is a shy type.." 

"Ugghh....don't tell me she will also call me Daddy"

"Don't worry.....Alia just prefers her partner to be strong and powerful in bed....she doesn't care about wordplay and other kinks...."

She murmured. He stepped closer, lowering his voice. 

"You seem to be too excited regarding this night"

Pranitha rose onto her toes, brushing her lips near his ear.

"Lets just say after that mind blowing performance at the beach I wanna watch my man perform!!!"

The air between them shifted again—charged, anticipatory.

For Hemant, who had navigated wars, syndicates, and assassins without flinching, this felt like stepping into a different but familiar kind of unknown.

And strangely— He wasn’t afraid of it anymore.

Hemant stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, Noordwijk’s night lights twinkling like scattered diamonds below, but his focus was fractured. The memory of the party—the sly glances, the brush of silk against his arm, the way Alia Bhatt’s eyes had held his while her lips curved around a suggestive compliment—still buzzed under his skin.

Pranitha emerged from the bedroom, having shed her couture gown for a sheer black robe. Her smile was a knowing, wicked thing. 

"Nervous?" she asked, her voice a low purr.

"A little" Hemant admitted, turning to face her. The revelation of her planned 'slumber party' with the two Bollywood stars had been a shock, but the kind that sent a jolt of pure, unadulterated heat straight to his core. Pranitha’s world, the secret lifestyle of the elites, was now his to taste.

"Like I said , be the  'Alpha' Kumar Mrunal and Ananya are talking about" 

She glided closer, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw. 

"Tonight, Alia and Kiara will be part of your secret shenanigans. Consider it my gift!"

A soft knock at the suite door made his heart thump. Pranitha answered, and there they were. Alia, radiant and confident in a simple silk slip that did nothing to hide the famous, tempting curve of her hourglass figure. Kiara, a vision in gold-embroidered silk pajamas, her doe eyes wide with a shyness that was somehow more alluring than any boldness.

"We thought maybe we should give the lovebirds their privacy" 

Alia said, her grin playful as she stepped inside, her gaze locking onto Hemant. Pranitha laughed, a rich, unfettered sound. 

"Oh, no. No walking back now. A commitment is a commitment"

"And how, exactly, does this work?" Alia’s eyes sparkled. 

Pranitha’s only answer was that same, enigmatic grin. Next things you know , Alia Bhatt , one of the biggest actresses of Bollywood was laying nude and bare in Pranitha's king sized bedroom. Alia was moaning profusely as Pranitha had buried her face between her legs. They were a tangle of bare limbs on the crisp white sheets. Eventually Pranitha came above after glistening Alia's pussy lips with her saliva ,  Pranitha straddled Alia’s hips, their mouths meeting in a kiss that was all hunger and no hesitation. Their lips moved with a practiced, mad passion. Alia’s hands gripped Pranitha’s back, pulling her closer. The sound of their kissing, wet and deep, filled the room. When they finally broke apart, Alia groaned, her head falling back. 

"God, woman. I thought you’d be all over your man tonight. Proven wrong again"

Their attention—was ripped away by a soft, shuddering gasp.

Beside them, Kiara was laying nude and bare voicing out a choked, beautiful moan. Her nerves were on fire as Hemant was between her legs eating her out. He feasted on her. His tongue explored her folds, firm and deliberate, before circling the tight, desperate bud of her clit. Kiara’s hips jerked off the bed. A high, keening sound escaped her lips. Her hands fisted in the sheets, then flew to his hair, not pushing him away but holding him there.

"Damn....I guess he knows what he is doing!" 

Alia murmured, propping herself up on an elbow to watch, her own arousal evident in her flushed skin and heavy-lidded eyes. Pranitha chuckled, her gaze drinking in the sight of her man between the actress’s legs.

"He might have some skills I need to investigate later" Pranitha mused, her voice husky. 

"I was already smitten by him after the pounding he gave me this evening at the nude beach"

"I love a good pounder" 

Alia grinned, wicked and wild.  Then she lay back, spreading her own legs.  Pranitha’s eyes lit with fire. She slid down Alia’s body, replacing the space between her thighs with her mouth. The room dissolved into a symphony of wet, sucking sounds and escalating moans. Hemant doubled his efforts on Kiara, licking and sucking with a focused intensity, driven by the competitive energy and the sheer, overwhelming sensation of the woman unraveling beneath him. Kiara was no longer silent. Her moans were continuous now, a melodic, broken stream of pleasure as she arched her back, pressing herself harder against his mouth.

Beside them, Alia was vocal, her groans deeper, more guttural. 

"Yes, just like that… fuck, right there!" 

Her hand found Kiara’s, and their fingers laced together, a bond of shared, overwhelming sensation. Hemant could feel Kiara tightening, her inner muscles fluttering around his probing tongue. Her cries became sharper, more urgent. He slid two fingers inside her, curling them, and her entire body bowed off the mattress. 

"Hemant!" she cried out his name as both a prayer and a curse.

It was a close contest, but Pranitha won. With a final, powerful suck on Alia’s clit, she sent the actress over the edge. Alia’s scream was raw and loud as her orgasm ripped through her, her body convulsing under Pranitha’s relentless mouth.

The sound seemed to trigger Kiara’s own climax. With a final, drawn-out lick, Hemant pushed her into the abyss. Her orgasm wasn’t loud; it was a total physical collapse. Her moan cut off into a silent, open-mouthed gasp. Her body spasmed over and over again, her grip on his hair becoming almost painful, her thighs trembling violently against his ears. For a long moment, she simply shook, waves of pleasure coursing through her until she finally went limp, breathing in ragged, shallow pants.

As she slowly floated back, her voice was a dazed, breathless whisper. 

"I… I felt like my soul was sucked out"

Alia, recovering beside her, laughed weakly, her body still humming. 

"Join the club, darling" 

She turned her head, her gaze landing on Hemant, now kneeling between Kiara’s splayed legs, his mouth glistening. Her eyes, dark with renewed hunger, traveled down his body. Alia breathed, her grin returning, full of promise. The silence that followed Kiara’s breathless confession was soft, filled with the hum of afterglow. She shifted, a delicate blush coloring her cheeks as she looked from Hemant to Pranitha. 

"I… I’m not on the safest day for it" she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. 

"I can’t do penetrative sex tonight. Not… not the risky kind" 

Her doe eyes flickered with a mix of disappointment and genuine sorrow. 

"It feels unfair. To him, and to me. I want… more"

Hemant, still kneeling on the bed, felt a surge of protective warmth. He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her damp forehead. 

"It’s okay, Kiara. There are no rules here except pleasure"

It was then that he moved to sit back on his heels, and as he did, the full, rigid length of his arousal was unveiled, standing thick and proud against his abdomen. A collective, sharp intake of breath filled the room.

Alia’s eyes, already dark with hunger, widened. A slow, predatory grin spread across her face. "Well, hello" she purred, her gaze locked on him. 

"I’m calling dibs on the real thing. No offense, darling" she added, nodding to Pranitha.

Pranitha simply chuckled, already sliding off the bed. 

"None taken. I have other plans" 

She moved to a sleek, expensive-looking overnight case, retrieving a harness and a sizable, realistic dildo made of deep, flesh-toned silicone. She began strapping it on with practiced ease. 

"Kiara, my sweet, you may not get the real meat tonight, but I promise you’ll feel filled"

Kiara watched, a new kind of nervous excitement replacing her shyness as Pranitha approached, the strap-on swaying with each step. 

"Just… gentle, please? I like it slow"

"Of course" 

Pranitha whispered, kneeling between Kiara’s freshly splayed thighs. She guided the silicone tip, slick with a dab of lube from the nightstand, to Kiara’s entrance. 

"Just relax. Tell me what feels good"

As Pranitha began to press forward, a low, trembling moan escaped Kiara’s lips. The sound was soft at first, then grew, blooming into the room as Pranitha slowly, inch by exquisite inch, sheathed herself inside the actress. 

"Ohhh… oh, Pranitha…"

The moans were soon joined by a different, more urgent sound: Hemant’s low, ragged grunts.

Alia hadn’t waited. She’d crawled to him, her small hands wrapping around the base of his shaft, her eyes locked on his as she took him into her mouth. She was, as her reputation might suggest, an artist. There was no tentative exploration. She took him deep, her throat relaxing in a way that made his vision blur, then pulled back, her tongue swirling around the crown in tight, torturous circles before diving down again. She used her hands in tandem, twisting and stroking what her mouth couldn’t take. It was a symphony of sensation—wet, warm, and unbearably skilled.

Hemant’s hips jerked involuntarily. He could feel the explosive pressure building at the base of his spine, far too quickly. She’s going to make me come just like this. With a groan of effort, he tangled his hands in her dark hair and gently but firmly pulled her off. A string of saliva connected her swollen lips to his glistening tip.

"Hey, I wasn’t done—" Alia looked up, her expression one of mock indignation. 

He didn’t let her finish. In one fluid motion, he pushed her onto her back, her body sinking into the mattress. He loomed over her, lining the broad, leaking head of his cock against her soaked folds. He rubbed it through her slickness, teasing her entrance, feeling her body tremble beneath him.

"Don’t… don’t tease m—" Alia squirmed, a frustrated growl in her throat. 

He didn’t.

He pushed forward, not with a slow entry, but with one powerful, driving thrust that buried him to the hilt in one stroke.

"AAAAGHHHHH!"

Alia’s scream was one of pure, shocked sensation—a cry torn from her lungs at the sudden, complete fullness. Her back arched, her nails digging into his shoulders. For a moment, he stayed there, embedded fully, letting them both feel the incredible, clutching tightness of her. Then he began to move. Slow, deliberate pulls back, then pushes forward, each stroke a deep, measured conquest.

"Fuck… fuck" Alia panted, her head thrashing side to side. After a few of these deep, possessive thrusts, she managed to turn her head toward Pranitha, who was steadily rocking into a now-moaning Kiara. 

"Ahh...ahhh...No wonder…ahaa… you fancy him…ahh...so much...mhmm..Pranitha!"

Pranitha, her own breathing labored, laughed. 

"Don’t go easy on her, Hemant! Just like Ananya, she prefers her men to dominate her"

That was all the signal he needed.

The slow, steady pace began to quicken. The sound in the room changed. The wet, rhythmic slide of flesh against flesh grew louder, faster. It was soon underscored by the sharp, percussive thwup… thwup… THWUP of his balls slapping against her ass with every deep drive. Alia’s moans escalated into continuous, ragged cries, each thrust punching the air from her lungs.

Kiara, lost in the sensation of Pranitha’s steady thrusts, was pulled from her haze by the sheer, visceral violence of the sound next to her. She turned her head, eyes wide, watching the powerful muscles in Hemant’s back and ass coil and release with animalistic grace. She was flabbergasted. He moves like a beast.

Her attention was brutally redirected when Pranitha, inspired by the sight, unconsciously picked up her own pace, thrusting harder into Kiara’s yielding body.

"Ah! Pranitha, slower" Kiara gasped, her hands coming up to press against Pranitha’s hips. 

"Not… not so hard. Please"

Pranitha immediately softened her movements, returning to a gentle, deep rhythm, but her eyes remained fixed on her husband. He was glistening now, a sheen of sweat coating his powerful form. Droplets fell from his chin and chest, landing on Alia’s heaving breasts and flushed face, mingling with her own sweat. They were a mess of slick, straining bodies.

Eventually, with a guttural sound, Hemant rolled onto his back, pulling Alia with him so she now straddled his hips. 

"Your turn" he grunted.

Alia needed no further invitation. She rose on her knees, then sank down onto him with a force that made them both cry out. She set a furious, punishing pace, riding him with a wild abandon that made her dark hair fly around her shoulders. Sweat droplets flew from her skin, catching the low light like tiny diamonds.

"She’s… so wild" Kiara watched, stunned. 

Pranitha, still moving gently inside her, nodded. 

"That’s his specialty. It’s never just one person in control. For him, it’s mutual. A shared… fucking"

Alia, hearing them, threw her head back with a hoarse laugh. 

"She’s… ah!… damn right! I’m the luckiest woman… oh god… on this planet right now!" 

But her bravado was fading, her movements becoming more ragged, her powerful thighs trembling with strain. She was exhausted, dripping sweat, but utterly consumed. The climax, when it hit her, was cataclysmic. Her body locked, her back bowing in a sharp arc. A raw, shattered scream tore from her throat as she came, her inner muscles clamping down on Hemant’s cock in a series of vicious, milking pulses. 

"FUCK! YES! YOU… ARE… SO… GOOD!"

She spasmed, her pussy gripping him like a vise, but Hemant wasn’t done. The feel of her climax triggered his own urgent need. In a swift motion, he flipped her onto her back again, returning to missionary. He didn’t slow. He pounded. Deep, hard, relentless strokes that hammered into her oversensitive core while she was still convulsing in the aftershocks.

Alia’s screams died into choked, silent gasps. Her eyes rolled back, her body jerking uncontrollably beneath his assault. She was being pushed past pleasure, into a realm of sheer, overwhelming sensory overload.

Kiara’s own release came then, a soft, trembling wave that made her cry out and cling to Pranitha, who held her through it, spent from her own efforts.

Hemant saw stars. The coiling pressure snapped. With a final, animalistic groan that seemed to come from the depths of his soul, he buried himself to the hilt and erupted. His hips jerked forward in short, sharp pulses as he emptied himself inside her in thick, hot bursts. Alia’s body, already in a state of shocked bliss, could only take it. Her eyes were shut, her mouth slack. Not a sound emerged.

He collapsed on top of her, both of them slick and heaving. A moment of heavy silence passed.

Pranitha, disentangling herself from a blissful Kiara, peered over. Alia was utterly still, her breathing deep and even. 

"Is she…?" Kiara whispered, worried.

Pranitha leaned closer, then giggled, a sound of pure delight. 

"She’s fine. Look at her. Hemant didn’t just fuck her. He fucked the soul right out of her body. She’s just…..enjoying the bliss of that powerfully satisfying sex!!"

                                                                                                                  (CHAPTER TO BE CONTD)

[Harry Jordan]

                                                                                                                    (CHAPTER CONTD)

A few hours later, Pranitha’s hotel suite was wrapped in an eerie stillness.

Moonlight filtered through sheer curtains, casting pale silver lines across the floor. The room bore the quiet aftermath of passion—discarded fabrics dbangd over chairs, champagne glasses resting half-finished, the air heavy with perfume and warmth. On the king-sized bed and adjoining lounge couch, Pranitha, Alia, and Kiara slept in peaceful disarray, their breathing soft and untroubled.

Outside the hotel’s perimeter, two black vans idled in the shadows.

Inside, well-suited men adjusted silencers, checked magazines, and pulled gloves over steady hands. One of them dialed a secure number.

In the basement control room of his Ockenburgh villa, Hakim Khaled answered immediately. Multiple live feeds flickered before him as several of the men activated body cameras.

"We’re in position" one whispered.

Hakim leaned closer to the screen. 

"The backdoor access is arranged. The manager has cleared the service corridor. You’ll reach their floor without disturbance"

He paused, eyes narrowing.

"According to inside scoop. There are four individuals in that suite" he added coldly. 

"One man.....and three women!"

"Understood"

"No exceptions. Kill everyone" Hakim’s voice turned glacial. 

The vans’ doors slid open silently. The men moved with disciplined precision through the hotel’s rear service entrance, guided by Hakim’s remote instructions. Within minutes, they reached the corridor outside the suite.

One assassin knelt, raising infrared goggles to his eyes.

He scanned the interior through thermal scope.

There was silence on the comm.

"Report" Hakim frowned. 

"Three heat signatures" the man whispered. 

"All stationary. Looks like… three women"

Hakim’s breath stalled.

"What?"

"No fourth signature. No male presence"

For a fraction of a second, the control room felt suffocating. Where was he? The lights in Hakim’s bunker flickered once. Then died. Darkness swallowed the room. Hakim grabbed his microphone, panic cracking through his composure. 

"Status! Report from the perimeter!"

No response.

Outside his villa, his bodyguards stood frozen—MP5s raised but hands trembling. Because beyond the gates, a wall of headlights had ignited the night. Dozens of vehicles formed a tightening ring around the estate. Engines hummed low. Doors opened in synchronized motion. Triad soldiers stepped out in disciplined silence, their customized QSZ-92 pistols fitted with suppressors glinting under the beams. The bodyguards tried to lift their weapons—

But they never squeezed the triggers. Muffled bursts split the air in rapid succession. One by one, Hakim’s guards dropped before they could even shout. The villa’s grand entrance creaked open under the glow of headlights. A towering silhouette emerged from the blinding light. Black shirt. Black trousers. Gloves fitted tightly around steady hands.

Hemant.

No.

Michael King.

He walked forward without hurry, stepping over fallen bodies as if they were debris in his path. A faint wind stirred his shirt as he reached a corpse, bent down, and removed a keycard from the man’s waist.

Inside, the basement door stood sealed. Michael swiped the card. The lock beeped. The instant it clicked open, two grenades rolled across the floor. Hakim’s remaining gunmen shouted and scattered—but there was nowhere far enough. The explosion tore through the bunker. Concrete cracked. Monitors shattered. Flames and smoke filled the chamber. When Hakim regained partial consciousness, ears ringing and vision blurred, he saw shapes moving through haze.

Michael walked through the smoke carrying a hatchet. What followed was not a battle. It was a rampage. The surviving men barely lifted their weapons before the hatchet found them. Bone splintered. Steel bit deep. Efficiency replaced fury; each strike deliberate, each movement final. Then Michael stopped before Hakim. Hakim tried to crawl back, blood soaking through his suit. 

"Wait—listen—we can negotiate. I’ll transfer everything. My businesses. Offshore accounts—"

Michael crouched slowly, eyes devoid of warmth.

"Rustom begged" he said quietly. 

"He begged for his family"

Hakim’s lips trembled.

"You watched" Michael continued. 

"You stood there in Azerbaijan and watched the Zarirs slaughter them"

The memory flashed in Hakim’s eyes. Michael rose.

"There was no mercy then"

The hatchet came down. Again. And again. Hakim’s screams echoed against shattered concrete, growing weaker with every blow until they dissolved into gurgled breaths and silence. Moments later, Sam Lin stepped through the smoke, surveying the carnage.

Hakim Khaled lay broken, bleeding out amid debris and bodies.

"Are you done?" The Redpole within the Triad faction asked calmly.

"One last thing" Michael wiped the blade clean against a fallen coat. 

Minutes later, the villa’s rooftop chimney bore a grim silhouette under the night sky. Hakim, barely conscious, was bound upright—left to feel every agonizing second as life slipped from him. Below, Michael stood beside a burning trash can. He removed his gloves, tossed them into the flames, and watched as they curled and blackened. Another name crossed off. Another soul erased from existence. But as the fire crackled and sirens wailed faintly in the distance, Michael King’s expression remained unchanged.

Hakim was just the beginning.

And AZRAEL’s reckoning had only just begun.

BACK AT PRANITHA'S SUITE

The hallway outside the suite was silent when Hemant returned.

He moved with practiced quiet, keycard sliding into place without a sound. Inside, the room was dim—only a bedside lamp casting a soft amber glow. The faint scent of perfume and wine still lingered in the air. Pranitha, Alia, and Kiara were asleep again, tangled in sheets that carried the warmth of the night’s indulgence.

Hemant slipped toward the main bathroom without disturbing them.

He turned on the shower, letting the water run hot. Steam rose quickly, blurring the mirror. Under the cascade, he stood still for a moment, allowing the heat to wash away the smell of smoke, of gunpowder, of blood. His knuckles bore faint redness. His shoulders carried tension not from passion—but from violence.

The first name from the list erased. Hakim Khaled was gone. When he stepped out, towel wrapped low around his waist, he paused. Pranitha was standing near the doorway in a silk robe, arms folded, watching him.

“Where did you go?” she asked softly.

Her tone wasn’t accusatory. It was curious. Concerned. He offered a faint, composed smile. 

"An old friend was passing through the city. Unexpectedly. I stepped out to meet him"

"At this hour?" she tilted her head.

"I didn’t want to wake you" he replied smoothly. 

"You looked… too peaceful"

"Is that supposed to be charming?" Her lips curved slowly. 

"It’s honest"

"You could’ve left a note" She stepped closer, eyes trailing over his damp skin. 

"I wasn't gonna go out all night....planned to return without any of you noticing" he murmured.

Her gaze darkened—not with suspicion, but with desire. 

"You thought I looked good asleep?"

"Very" he said quietly.

The robe slipped slightly off her shoulder as she closed the distance between them. 

"You have a way of saying things that make it hard to stay annoyed"

His hand found her waist. 

"Then don’t"

Whatever faint tension had existed dissolved instantly.

She pressed her lips to his—slow at first, testing, then deepening with renewed urgency. The kiss tasted of heat and possession, of unspoken questions left suspended in favor of sensation. Her fingers slid through his damp hair; his palms traced the curve of her back beneath silk.

They moved toward the bed without breaking contact.

The sheets welcomed them again, soft and warm, and their movements were less reckless than before—more assured, more knowing. It wasn’t novelty anymore. It was connection layered over desire.

A quiet murmur escaped her lips as she pulled him closer, the robe forgotten somewhere on the floor. He responded not with haste, but with deliberate intensity—like a man who knew how fragile peace could be and wanted to claim it while it existed.

Eventually, the room returned to stillness once more.

They lay intertwined beneath the covers, the faint rhythm of distant city traffic filtering through the window. Nearby, the other women remained asleep, unaware of the storm that had passed beyond hotel walls.

Pranitha rested her head against his chest, fingers lazily tracing circles against his skin. 

"You disappear mysteriously" she whispered drowsily. 

"And then you come back like this"

"Like what?"

"Like you belong nowhere else"

He didn’t answer. Because his mind had already drifted elsewhere. Hakim’s name was off the list. One thread of vengeance tied. But others remained—The rest of AZRAEL. And beyond revenge, there were other questions now.

How long could he keep these worlds separated? How long before Pranitha saw the man beneath the tailored suits? How long before Sonarika uncovered the truth about his past? Hemant stared at the ceiling in the dim light, feeling the warmth of Pranitha against him, the rare stillness of a moment untouched by chaos.

He had crossed the first name off. The hunt had begun. But for the first time in years, he also felt something else forming alongside vengeance—A future that was way different than he anticipated!

The deep, velvety silence of the hotel suite was broken only by the soft, rhythmic breathing of four exhausted bodies. A sliver of moonlight cut across the vast bed, illuminating a landscape of tangled limbs and discarded silk. Hemant stirred, a deep-seated ache of satisfaction in his muscles, but a new, familiar heat was already coiling low in his belly. The scent of sex and sweat was a potent perfume in the still air.

He blinked, his eyes adjusting. At the far edge of the king-sized expanse, he saw movement. Pranitha was propped up on an elbow, her dark hair cascading over her shoulder as she leaned over a sleeping Alia. Her mouth was latched onto one of Alia’s pert, dusky nipples, sucking gently but insistently. Alia, in her partial consciousness, let out a soft, dreamy moan, her back arching slightly off the mattress, offering her breast more fully.

A jolt of pure, electric arousal shot through Hemant. God, she’s insatiable. He was surprised by the immediacy of his own renewed hardness, pressing insistently against the sheets. He turned his head and found Kiara sleeping soundly beside him, her nude body a warm, smooth curve in the dim light. The sight of her, so vulnerable and beautiful, was irresistible. He shifted closer, the heat of her skin radiating against him. He began to grind his erection slowly against the swell of her buttock, the friction delicious through the thin layer of dried sweat on their skin. He relished the feel of her—the soft give of her flesh, the smoothness of her skin.

"Pranitha" Hemant whispered, his voice rough with sleep and desire. 

"Let’s have sex. It’s not a safe night for Kiara, and I am a little horny…"

Pranitha detached from Alia’s nipple with a soft, wet pop. She glanced over, her eyes gleaming in the dark. She giggled, a low, husky sound. 

"I’m a little occupied, babe. You’ll have to wait your turn" 

She dipped her head again, her tongue swirling around Alia’s areola, eliciting another muffled groan. Hemant let out a frustrated sigh, his hips still moving in a slow, grinding rhythm against Kiara. A few minutes later, Pranitha looked up again, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. 

"You know....there are other ways to have sex on unsafe days. Places that are… always safe" 
She said, her voice a teasing sing-song, 

"What do you mean?" Hemant paused, confused for a moment. 

Pranitha chuckled softly, finally leaving Alia’s breast alone. She sat up, the sheet pooling around her waist. 

"I mean, there’s another place to stick that magnificent cock of yours in her" 

She nodded toward the still-sleeping Kiara. The implication dawned on him. 

"Anal? Has she… has she done it before?"

Pranitha’s grin was wide and knowing. 

"Hemant, she’s a Bollywood actress. Of course she’s done it. The question is, will you be her costar tonight?"

The idea sent a fresh wave of heat through him. He turned his full attention to Kiara. His hands, which had been resting on her hip, slid around to cup her small, perfect breasts. He thumbed her nipples, feeling them pebble into hard points under his touch. He leaned down and took one into his mouth, sucking gently, then with more pressure.

Kiara stirred with a soft sigh, then a sharp intake of breath as pleasure pierced her sleep. Her eyes fluttered open, hazy and confused for a second before focusing on him. 

"H-Hemant?"

Her whisper woke Alia, who blinked and stretched, noticing Pranitha now positioned between her thighs, her mouth already descending. 

"Next Round already?" 

Alia mumbled, a smile in her voice, before Pranitha’s tongue silenced her with a low moan.

Pranitha, while eating Alia out, reached for her overnight case again. This time, she pulled out a different toy—a double-ended dildo, longer and more flexible than the strap-on. She coated each end with clear lubricant, her eyes locked on Hemant’s progress.

Hemant focused on Kiara. He kissed her, deep and slow, letting her taste herself and him. 

"I am sorry Kiara" he murmured against her lips. 

"But I am really horny"

Kiara’s expression grew pensive, even as her body responded to his touch. She broke the kiss, her voice small. 

"I feel bad… that we couldn’t do it tonight.....its not just the unsafe days Hemant.....I’m actually scared. I saw how hard you fucked Alia. I felt the bed shake" 

She shivered. Hemant cupped her face, his thumb stroking her cheek. 

"Look at me, Kiara. I won’t do anything you don’t want. Ever. Your comfort, your pleasure… that’s the only rule"

She searched his eyes, seeing only earnest honesty. 

"I don’t mind the idea" she whispered. 

"I’ve… enjoyed it before. But the fear of pain, and your….your size…"

"We’ll go as slow as you need" he promised, his voice a low rumble. 

"I’ll make you feel every inch, and we stop the second you say"

The trust that blossomed in her doe eyes was breathtaking. She leaned in and kissed him, not with shyness, but with a sudden, passionate hunger that took him by surprise. Her tongue delved into his mouth, exploring, claiming. It was their first real kiss, and it was electric. He moaned into her, tasting her, savoring the softness of her lips.

When they parted, both were breathless. Without a word, Kiara gathered a mix of their saliva in her palm. She reached behind herself, her face flushing as she smeared the warm, slick fluid over the tight, pink pucker of her asshole. The contact made her shiver, a gasp escaping her.

Hemant positioned himself behind her, both on their sides in a spooning position. He guided his cock, rock-hard and throbbing, to her prepared entrance. The broad, spongy head pressed against her. 

"Breathe out, Kiara" he whispered.

Kiara exhaled in a shaky gust, and he pushed forward, just an incremental fraction. Her body resisted, a ring of intense, hot pressure clenching around the tip. He held still, letting her adjust. 

"Okay?" he breathed.

"Y-yesss...just slow" she gasped. 

He obeyed, feeding himself into her millimeter by agonizing millimeter. The sensation was incredible—a tight, velvety, scorching heat that hugged his shaft in a vice-like embrace. He watched her face, her eyes squeezed shut, her lips parted in a silent ‘O’. He saw the moment the sharp edge of pain began to blur into a feeling of intense, overwhelming fullness.

"Oh… god…" 

Kiara groaned, her head falling back against his shoulder as he finally, fully bottomed out inside her. She was stuffed, stretched to her limit, but the pain was already receding, replaced by a deep, aching fullness that bordered on pleasure. A single tear of intense sensation leaked from the corner of her eye.

Pranitha, now positioned with the double-ended dildo, had impaled herself on one end and was guiding the other into a moaning Alia. She saw Kiara’s tear and smiled. 

"How does he feel, Kiara? all of him wrapped inside you?"

"The… the best feeling… ever" Kiara’s voice was a strangled moan. 

Then Hemant began to move. This was a different Hemant. Gone was the dominant, pounding beast from hours before. His hips rolled with a tender, exquisite slowness. He withdrew almost completely, then slid back in with a gentle, rolling thrust that made Kiara whimper. He focused on the sensation—the incredible tightness, the way her body gradually began to accept him, to clench around him in a rhythm of its own.

Alia, getting fucked by Pranitha with the shared dildo, was stunned. She turned her head, watching the careful, loving rhythm of Hemant’s hips against Kiara’s backside. 

"Fuck" Alia breathed, her own pleasure momentarily forgotten. 

"Look at him. He’s… so different with her" She met Pranitha’s gaze. 

"No wonder he’s your man. The control… the adaptability"

Pranitha, driving the dildo into Alia with rough, deep strokes, could only nod, her own breaths coming in sharp gasps. Their session was a contrast—a fierce, competitive pounding of plastic and flesh, their moans and screams filling the air.

Kiara’s sounds were different. Soft grunts, sharp intakes of breath, low moans that sometimes edged into a pained gasp. Every time she made that sound, Hemant would freeze, dial his movements back to near-stillness, whispering assurances against her neck until she relaxed and nodded for him to continue. She loved it. She loved the palpable care, the way her well-being was his paramount concern.

The slow, deep friction was building a fire in them both. Hemant could feel his climax approaching, a tight coil in his gut. 

"Kiara… I’m going to cum" he grunted, his voice thick.

She turned her head, her eyes glazed with passion. 

"Do it" she whispered, a fierce determination in her voice. 

"Its in a safe space anyways....ahhh...do it!" she said with a slight mix of giggle and moan.

Her permission was the final release. He increased his pace, but only slightly—a firm, steady rhythm that pushed her towards her own peak. To their mutual shock, her orgasm crested with his. Her body clenched around his invading length in a series of violent, fluttering spasms as she cried out, a gush of her own fluids soaking the sheets beneath them. Hemant’s own release followed, a roaring tide of pleasure. He buried himself deep and pulsed, jet after hot, thick jet of cum flooding her rectum, marking her insides as his.

A minute later, with twin, screaming climaxes, Pranitha and Alia joined them, their shared orgasm making them both squirt messily onto the dildo and the already-soaked bed.

Pranitha collapsed, spent. She rolled onto her side, facing Hemant and Kiara. Kiara had shifted, now facing Hemant, snuggling into his chest as he held her close, his softening cock still nestled within her. He looked over Kiara’s head and met Pranitha’s eyes, giving her a slow, satisfied wink.

Pranitha’s gaze drifted lower, to where a thick, pearly trail of Hemant’s cum was already seeping out from between Kiara’s ass cheeks, tracing a path down her thigh. He really filled her, Pranitha thought with a thrill of vicarious pleasure.

                                                                                                                      (CHAPTER TO BE CONTD)

[Harry Jordan]

                                                                                                                (CHAPTER CONTD)

Morning came in Noordwijk as sunlight started to penetrate the cold fog of the always breezing city. Inside Pranitha's suite was mostly silent except the sound of some sort of slurping. Hemant was deep in his sleep when slowly he was gaining consciousness from his sleep. The first sensation was a warm, wet pressure, a gentle suction that pulled him from the depths of a sated sleep. Hemant groaned, a low, guttural sound of pure pleasure as consciousness returned. His morning erection was engulfed in a familiar, wonderful heat. He cracked his eyes open to see the top of Pranitha’s head bobbing slowly between his legs, her dark hair spilling over his thighs.

She looked up, her lips stretched around his girth, and her eyes crinkled with a smile. She released him with a soft pop. 

"Good morning, Handsome!" she purred, her voice husky with sleep and desire. 

She gave his shaft a slow, languid stroke. 

"You handled both me and these starlets quiet wonderfully yesterday. Both our Bollywood stars. I am very impressed"

Hemant let out a breathy laugh, his hips lifting slightly, seeking more of her mouth. 

"You’re doing a much better job right now" he managed, his voice thick.

"Are you sure about that?"

The voice, playful and laced with a hint of challenge, came from his other side. Alia emerged from the tangle of sheets, her nude body glowing in the soft morning light filtering through the curtains. She stretched like a cat, her small, perfect breasts lifting, before she slid down the bed to join Pranitha. Her eyes, bright and mischievous, locked onto his cock, glistening with Pranitha’s saliva.

"Mind if we share?" 

Alia asked, not waiting for an answer as she nudged Pranitha playfully with her shoulder. 

"He’s got enough to go around"

"Just don’t be greedy" Pranitha chuckled and nodded, shifting to make room. 

What followed was a dizzying, overwhelming assault on his senses. Pranitha took him first, giving a few deep, loving bobs, her tongue flat against his underside. Then Alia moved in, her approach more audacious. She opened her mouth wide and, in one smooth, practiced motion, swallowed him whole. Hemant gasped as the head of his cock nudged the back of her throat. She held it there, her eyes watering slightly, before pulling back with a wet, slurping sound, a string of saliva connecting her lips to his tip.

"Fuck" he hissed, his hands fisting in the sheets. 

The dual sensation—Pranitha’s loving expertise and Alia’s bold, deep-throating hunger—was almost too much to process. His abs tightened, his entire body coiling with the intense, building pleasure.

Then he felt a soft hand on his chest, a gentle weight settling against his side. He turned his head to see Kiara, awake now, her doe eyes soft and affectionate. She smiled and leaned in, pressing her lips to his in a deep, slow, morning kiss. She tasted of sleep and something sweet. When she pulled back, she nuzzled his neck. 

"I loved the way you sucked my breasts last night" she confessed, her whisper a warm breath against his skin. 

"The way your mouth felt… I couldn’t stop thinking about it"

Without another word, she shifted, straddling his chest. She leaned forward, bringing one of her small, perfect breasts to his lips. The dusky pink nipple was already pebbled and hard. Hemant obliged eagerly, taking it into his mouth, sucking gently, then with more firmness, his tongue flicking over the sensitive peak. A soft, shuddering sigh escaped Kiara.

"I should… I should be pleasuring you all" Hemant mumbled around her flesh, his words muffled.

Kiara shook her head, her fingers threading through his hair. 

"No" she breathed. 

"We’re tired. Deliciously, wonderfully tired. You worked so hard for us last night. This… this morning is for you. A thank you" 

She gasped as he switched to her other breast, his teeth grazing lightly over the nipple.

As if on cue, Kiara slid down his body, joining the two women already working on his cock. Now there were three. Three sets of lips, three talented tongues, three beautiful, famous women vying for a taste of him. The visual alone was nearly enough to push him over the edge. Pranitha took the base, her lips sealing around his shaft, sucking firmly. Alia claimed the middle, her mouth a wet, tight ring as she bobbed rapidly. Kiara, shy but determined, focused on the sensitive head, her kitten-like licks and gentle sucks sending shivers up his spine.

The sensations merged into one continuous, electrifying current of bliss. He was losing himself, drowning in a sea of wet warmth and soft murmurs. He could feel the orgasm building, a tidal wave gathering force deep in his core.

"I’m… I’m close" he grunted, the warning torn from him.

The women understood. In a coordinated, silent agreement, they pulled back. Pranitha took his shaft in her hand, her grip firm and knowing. She began to jerk him, rough and fast, her fist a blur. Alia cupped his heavy balls in her mouth, sucking gently on the sac, her tongue swirling. Kiara and Pranitha leaned in, and for a breathtaking second, they kissed each other, their lips meeting right over the weeping tip of his cock, their tongues dancing as a droplet of his pre-cum smeared between them.

That image—the ultimate act of shared devotion—was his undoing.

"NOW!" he roared.

His body arched off the bed as the first spurt erupted. It was a powerful, thick rope that shot across the short distance and splashed across Pranitha’s cheek, white against her skin. The second followed instantly, and then it was like a hose had been unleashed. Pranitha, grinning wickedly, angled his pulsing cock. She directed the next violent jet to the left, painting Alia’s surprised, beautiful face with a streak of his cum. Without pause, she swung to the right, and Kiara’s delicate features were plastered with the warm, sticky fluid.

Hemant’s vision whited out. He groaned, long and deep, as his body convulsed through the most powerful, draining release of his life. Jet after hot jet spurted out, coating the three waiting faces below until he was spent, utterly empty. He collapsed back onto the mattress, his chest heaving, his limbs boneless. A deep, profound exhaustion claimed him, and his eyes fluttered shut, consciousness slipping away into a satisfied, grateful darkness.

The last thing he was aware of was the sound of soft, wet smacks and contented hums. He cracked one eye open a slit. The three women were gathered close, their faces glistening. Pranitha used her fingers to gather the cum from her own cheek and brought it to her lips, sucking it clean with a pleased moan. She then leaned over and kissed Alia, sharing the taste. Alia, in turn, turned to Kiara, licking a stripe of white from her jaw before capturing her mouth in a deep, messy kiss. They traded his essence between them, swallow by languid swallow, a silent, intimate communion.

As Hemant finally settled into the bed after being finally exhausted from his activities. He accepted that moments like this is what makes his life worth it at the moment.


An hour later, they were sharing a quiet lunch in the suite. Sunlight had grown brighter now, casting a softer tone over everything.

"So Hemant? how is YOD" Alia asked with a curious tone.

Hemant was startled by her talk.

"You know about YOD?" Hemant asked stunned.

"Of course....you really I would let a stranger do the things you did last night? I have standards hunk" 

Alia responded with a raised eyebrow of her own. She continued.

"Pranitha never stopped talking about you. She made it clear your were her recent obsession. And I was also curious after Ananya kept calling you 'Daddy'.....to the point I just had to find out so I jumped the gun"

"And for that I have no regrets" Pranitha said thoughtfully. 

Before Hemant could respond, his phone vibrated on the table. He glanced at the screen—and froze. Meera Sethi. His divorce lawyer. He excused himself subtly and answered in a composed tone. 

"Good afternoon, Meera"

"Good afternoon, Hemant" she replied professionally. 

"I’m calling because Sonarika contacted me. She wants to renegotiate the divorce settlement"

"Renegotiate? Why?" His jaw tightened slightly. 

"That’s unclear" Meera admitted. 

"She’ll be in Mumbai tomorrow. She’s requested your presence at my office so we can discuss the changes together"

A quiet weight settled in his chest. He had a suspicion. And he desperately hoped he was wrong.

"I’ll be there" he said simply before ending the call.

When he returned to the table, Pranitha noticed the shift immediately. The other ladies noticed it too.

"What happened?"

He exhaled slowly. 

"Sonarika wants to change the divorce deal. She’s coming to Mumbai tomorrow"

Pranitha’s expression softened. She reached across the table, squeezing his hand. 

"Sonarika? that's the wife right?" 

Alia questioned as Kiara too looked nervous seeing the change in Hemant. His demeanor totally shifted.

"Maybe it’s just financial. New job, new city… maybe she needs more security"

"I don’t think so" he replied quietly. 

"She has enoughsavings. Her father has enough fortune to support her" He paused. 

"I have a feeling this is about Karan"

The word lingered heavier than anything else in the room. Alia and Kiara realized things had evolved into a rather uncomfortable scenario. Pranitha moved closer, resting her head briefly against his shoulder. 

"Don’t jump to conclusions" she said gently. 

"You’ll know tomorrow. Until then… don’t let fear steal today"

She leaned back with a small smile. 

"She's right Hemant. Whatever it is , you might be overthinking it. Besides you have nothing to worry if Pranitha has your back"

Alia hypes up Pranitha to lighten the mood. Kiara also becomes a reassuring voice of reason.

"Hemant , as a parent , I can understand the fears and worries you're going through. But you need to fight , be confident about your son. Nothing bad will happen to a good man like you"

"When are you going then?"

"I have to book a return flight for tonight"

"You still have a few hours in Amsterdam before your rescheduled flight. Let’s make them count"

Pranitha said with assurance. He looked at her—at the warmth, the stability she offered without demand. But beneath Hemant’s calm exterior, unease simmered. One enemy had fallen. Another storm was forming. And this time, it wasn’t coming from the underworld. It was coming from home.

The rest of the afternoon dissolved into something lighter.

They drifted from one beach pub to another along the Dutch coastline—music spilling into the open air, glasses clinking, strangers laughing under fading sunlight. The sea breeze carried a crisp edge, but inside the wooden-floored bar where they eventually settled, the energy was warm and electric.

Pranitha pulled him toward the dance floor without hesitation.

Hemant wasn’t usually one to dance publicly, but with her hands on his shoulders and her laughter spilling into his ear, he let himself loosen. Alia and Kiara too were with them but were keeping a low profile and reserved themselves to the bar counter. The new pair moved close—unapologetically close—swaying to rhythmic beats that thudded through the floorboards. At one point she leaned up, brushing her lips against his jaw.

"Beaches are going to mean something very different to me now" she murmured, eyes glinting.

"Let me guess , its because of yesterday evening?" He smirked faintly. 

"That evening will be a forever in my life!!!" She laughed. 

"Then I suppose beaches are special to me now too. You’re in my life" 

He met her gaze more seriously. Her expression softened at that. Later, seated on a wooden deck overlooking the water, her martini and his coke resting forgotten on the table, Hemant grew quieter.

"There’s something strange about all this" he admitted. 

"Being… physically involved in that situation. With other people , its kind of a deja vu , and I am confused about it"

Pranitha tilted her head. 

"Don't be. It’s about experience. About not rushing into something permanent just because it feels intense" 

She traced her finger along the rim of her glass. 

"I don’t want us making life-altering decisions from the get-go. I want thrill. Freedom. To explore you before I choose you fully"

"That mindset… reminds me of someone" He studied her for a moment, then nodded slowly. 

"Oh?" she asked lightly. 

"Who?"

"Ashnoor" he said, the name leaving him almost unconsciously.

"Who was she?" Pranitha stilled. 

For the first time that day, a shadow crossed his features.

"She was… someone that became my everything....a very ambitious and rebel young woman when I met her. She was my mentor's daughter. But she also had an attitude , he gave me the responsibility to look after her. But somewhere in those moments , my duty became my love. And next thing I know , we became closer than ever. And she , she had a pretty ridiculous kinks and aspirations about our relationship. We indulged in a lot of 'kinky' stuffs. Those moments were pretty significant to what I am today" 

He said quietly. Pranitha watched him carefully, eyes growing misty at the raw honesty in his tone.

"What happened?" she asked gently.

"Darkness.....the thing I learned now about my life , when I get something , I usually loose a whole lot more.....the path I walked , it was not normal , not ideal. I messed with that darkness and it consumed me. And that darkness....it took her from me forever. I lost , my girl , my mentor , a family that I had once built on.....and now here I am bracing for loosing another one.....which is why despite everything I am scared Pranitha.....I am scared to commit....my life....“It’s more complicated than you think." 

He replied with a faint, humorless smile. She reached across the table, squeezing his hand. 

"I’m glad I’m part of that complication"

He exhaled slowly. 

"You don’t know the half of it. My past…It’s dark. Grim. If you ever saw the whole truth, you might look at me differently. You might see a monster"

Pranitha didn’t hesitate.

"I don’t see a monster" she said firmly. 

"I see a man who survived something terrible. A man who was afraid of his own darkness. And now that you’ve faced it… the best parts of you are finally showing"

He searched her eyes for doubt. There was none.

By evening, Amsterdam’s airport lights glowed against the descending dusk. Alia and Kiara had separate from the couple for some shopping promising to return to Pranitha in her suite by evening. Pranitha walked beside him through the terminal, fingers intertwined, unwilling to release the moment too soon.

At the security barrier, she turned to him.

"Don’t overthink Sonarika.....It won’t be anything catastrophic" she said softly. 

He shook his head slightly. 

"I feel like it will be. And somehow… it might hurt more than anything from my past"

Pranitha stepped closer, her voice dropping to a whisper edged with steel. 

"You won’t be hurt. I won’t let her"

"It’s not your fight" He gave her a faint smile. 

“It is now.....and if she even thinks about hurting you...I’ll ruin her life in ways she won’t see coming" 

Pranitha replied calmly,  The possessiveness in her tone was startling—but sincere. They kissed slowly, deliberately, as if imprinting the taste of each other for the days ahead.

"Let me know about the progress....I will be back in Mumbai very soon!" she said.

"I will"

He turned and walked toward check-in without looking back, though he felt her gaze on him until he disappeared beyond the crowd. Outside, Pranitha returned to her car. She didn’t start the engine immediately. Instead, she pulled out her phone and dialed a number from memory. When the call connected, her voice was steady.

"I need all the details regarding Sonarika Sharma. Including her recent activities and her new occupation!"


ON THE FLIGHT TO MUMBAI


The cabin lights dimmed as the aircraft cruised steadily toward India.

Hemant sat by the window, watching the endless stretch of night outside. The ten-hour journey had been uneventful on the surface—polite flight attendants, muted conversations, the soft hum of engines—but inside him, nothing was calm.

His thoughts kept circling back to one question:

Why would Sonarika want to renegotiate?

He knew her patterns. Sonarika had always been quick to react, quicker to assume. Half-formed details had once spiraled into full-blown accusations. If she had discovered even a fragment of his past, she wouldn’t wait for context. She would draw her own conclusion.

And that was what frightened him.

He leaned back and closed his eyes, forcing himself into sleep. Maybe it was just paperwork. A financial clause. A timing issue. A small correction. Nothing more.

He slept longer than expected.

When he woke, the aircraft had begun its gradual descent. The overhead sign chimed softly.

A moment later, the captain’s voice filled the cabin.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we’ll be landing in Mumbai in approximately one hour. Monsoon has arrived earlier than expected this year. The city is currently experiencing a thunderstorm. Please rest assured, conditions remain within safe operational limits.”

Outside the window, flashes of distant lightning tore through thick clouds.

Hemant’s pulse quickened.

Mumbai.

Storm.

Renegotiation.

Without thinking further, he switched his phone off airplane mode. The signal flickered weakly but stabilized just enough.

He dialed.

Five rings.

Then her voice.

"Hello?"

"Where are you?" Hemant asked immediately.

"At home" she replied calmly.

He frowned. 

"At home? Then why did you tell Ms. Meera Sethi you wanted me in Mumbai if you’re in Delhi?"

A brief pause.

"I’m not in Delhi" she said.

Silence stretched between them.

"I’m at our house" she continued. 

"Silver Beach. Juhu"

His grip tightened around the phone. Silver Beach. He hadn’t expected that. Not so soon. Not without warning. After steadying himself, he spoke again. 

"Why are you renegotiating the deal?"

Her tone shifted—no longer defensive, no longer wounded. Measured.

"The deal needs to change" she said quietly. 

"I thought I was the only one who ruined this marriage. I thought I was the wrongdoer"

A flicker of confusion crossed his face.

"And now?" he asked.

“And now...I know our marriage was a lie all along!!!" she said. 

His chest tightened.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked carefully.

There was a faint exhale on the other end.

"Who’s asking me that?" she said softly. 

"Is it my soon to be ex-husband Hemant Kumar…....or Michael King?"

The world inside the cabin seemed to freeze. The hum of engines grew louder in his ears.

Michael King.

The name he had buried. The name that belonged to the darkest chapters of his life. He couldn’t speak. His lips parted, but no sound came out. His heartbeat pounded violently against his ribs. How did she know this? What was the content of Rustom's letter? Has she believed the fabricated urban legend of Michael King? Before he could gather himself, the signal crackled. Static overtook the line as the plane pierced deeper into the storm clouds.

The call dropped.

Outside, the aircraft plunged into thick monsoon clouds. The world beyond the window turned pitch black, broken only by violent flashes of lightning illuminating the wing for a split second before swallowing it again.



The plane trembled slightly. Inside, passengers murmured nervously. Hemant sat absolutely still. He wasn’t afraid of the turbulence. He was afraid of what awaited him on the ground. As the aircraft moved deeper into the darkness, he struggled to breathe properly. His chest felt constricted—not from altitude, but from inevitability.

The past had not remained buried. It had found its way home.

And as Mumbai’s storm swallowed the plane whole, Hemant couldn’t ignore the symbolism—his life, too, was descending straight into the darkness he had spent years trying to escape.

                                                                                                                    END OF CHAPTER 31

[Harry Jordan]

Like I said before , I have split this chapter into two which means Chapter 32 will come online this time without delay on Saturday. I have also rescheduled my process to ensure there is weekly updates of chapters so that no more delays like this happen. We are moving to a rather serious part of the story anyways so now the plot will tackle more serious stuffs and tone down the sex to some extent. This chapter definitely had an overdrive of sex. Chapter 32 will be about conflicts between Hemant and Sonarika and the paths they take moving forward. A chapter will be fully dedicated to Sonarika in the future focusing on her chain of events in Delhi until her new beginning in Goa. Things between the couple will be tense from now on and this is the start of their next set of arcs with the path taking them to uncharted territories. 

So brace for Chapter 32 this saturday as Hemant and Sonarika faces seen and unseen villains in their life as things about to get way out of their hand!!!