Author’s POV
10PM, at night.
The company hummed even at night, like a dying animal that refused to sleep. Yashika was still at her desk. Papers, but she wasn’t reading them. Just breathing in the silence.
Aditi’s voice cut through it. “Yashika, it’s late. You should head to the hotel. Come back in the morning.”
“You’re right,” Yashika murmured. The words felt borrowed. “I should leave now.”
“My driver is outside. He'll take you.” Aditi didn’t wait for an answer. She exited, leaving only the scent of her perfume and unspoken questions.
Later, in her suite, Yashika checked her personal phone. The screen glowed back at her, empty of the one thing she wanted. A frown carved itself between her brows. It wasn’t disappointment. It was recognition. The kind you feel when the universe confirms your worst suspicion that you’re waiting for a ghost. Her eyes drifted to the bouquets drowning her table and her couch. Red roses. White lilies. No card. No name. Just suffocation disguised as beauty. ‘Who could be sending this to me?’ The thought didn’t linger. It burrowed.
Because deep down, she already knew. And that terrified her more than not knowing.
Meanwhile, in Moscow, Russia
9 AM. Moscow wore a strange kind of peace. The kind that exists only on the surface. A cold, slow breeze tangled with thin sunlight—weather too pleasant for the rot underneath it. Because despite the calm, the air felt restless. Like a breath held too long. Like something unfinished. Or someone.
Amid the steel and glass teeth of Moscow’s skyline stood VREYOS AND CO., 43 stories of ambition and blood money. Inside its conference room, 40 people sat. Investors. Board members. Partners. Vultures in suits. Suddenly, one stood. “I didn't invest that huge amount just so you could go and buy some bankrupt-level company.”
"We had to do it. They thought they were too clever for their own good, so we had to put them in their place," someone shot back. "Besides, you already invested. What we do after that is none of your business. You're still making a profit," another added, smiling with his teeth.
“Yeah, in the end, you'll come running for the money, right? What do you care? We're the ones doing the work."
"All of you, shut your mouths." The voice didn’t shout. It didn’t need to. It echoed anyway, stripping the room bare. Silence fell like a guillotine. It came from the man at the head of the table. Hazel eyes, empty as a winter grave. 6'4" of controlled violence in a tailored suit.
"I pay you all to work, not to run your mouths. And this company is mine. I make the decisions, not you. I bought this company for my own reasons. I’m not bound to answer your questions."
He stood. Walked to the founder’s cabin like a king returning to his crypt. Inside, the mask cracked. He paced rapid, relentless circles. Like a caged predator who’d caught the scent of blood but couldn’t find the wound. The door opened. Daniel Mancini, 25. The only man allowed to see him unarmed. His face was a chessboard. Calculating. Patient. Daniel was shocked, but not surprised. In the last few years, he’d watched the impossible unravel this man again and again.
"Don't worry. Everything is going as planned. You've waited for many days, or should we say—"
"I know," Sander cut him off. His voice was raw. "But I just can't control myself. After all this work, I'm finally about to get everything. So why does it feel like it's all slipping through my fingers?"
Daniel froze. Because this man was known as Death. In Russia. Hell, in the entire world. But now? Now he was just a man. Terrified of losing. Because where SANDER VREYOS stands, the word "normal" doesn’t just step aside. It runs.
"Don't worry, you know I have—"
"You can go now," Sander said, quieter this time. Colder. "I’ll handle everything. After all, I am SANDER. I don’t fear. I create fear."
Daniel left. When the footsteps faded, Sander pulled a photo from his wallet. Old. Creased. A woman’s face, half-smiling, frozen in time. He stared for twenty minutes. Didn’t blink. Then he whispered to the paper, to the ghost, to himself: "Soon, you will be mine.”
Back to India
11:30 AM, Delhi.
The sun didn’t shine. It attacked. Heatwaves blurred the air, thick enough to plaster a girl's dupatta to her skin and steal her breath. Yet the city moved. Because no matter how brutal the sun, work never stops. And neither do the desperate.
Yashika was in the hotel gym. Headphones in, drowning the world in bass. Then her phone rang. She ripped the headphones off like they’d burned her. Aditi. "Heyyyy, you know that company buying us out? Their CEO is coming here. And our managers just confirmed a meeting with him for me." Yashika froze. The air left her lungs.
Why? Why would the man devouring an entire company want to meet its COO? Predators don’t negotiate with prey. They just eat.
Yashika’s POV
I need to stop. I need to focus. But my brain is a crime scene, and every thought is evidence. I’m at the company, in my cabin, and only one question keeps clawing at me: If the CEO’s name is Daniel Mancini, then why the hell is the company called Vreyos and Co.?
Names mean something. Names are ownership. Names are warnings. This isn’t adding up, and the math of it makes my skin crawl. A knock. Sharp. Impatient.
“Come in.” Aditya. Aditi’s brother. Stepbrother, technically. Did I mention Aditi is from a business family? Yeah… she does. And Aditya is CEO only on paper. Everyone knows it. Especially him.
“I don’t understand anything,” he started, pacing. “Daniel Sir already emailed that he’s buying our company, so why the hell does he want to meet Aditi?”
He says it like he cares. Like she’s his real sister. But his worry is a performance. He’s jealous of her competence the way mediocre men are always jealous of women who don’t need them. I see it. Everyone does. “You’re right… I don’t know either,” I lie. Smooth. Easy.
Why would I share my thoughts with him? He’s a pawn who thinks he’s a king. A phone rings. Not mine. His.
“Hello, Sir… yes, okay, alright.” He hangs up too fast. Too eager. Too scared. “That was Daniel Sir’s call,” Aditya says.
“He wants to take Aditi with him.” The words hit, and something inside me ignites. Not anger. Something older. Something uglier. How can he send his sister off with a stranger like she’s collateral?
Like she’s a briefcase to be handed over? Even if she is his stepsister… no. Especially because she’s his stepsister. And in that moment, I realize this isn’t a merger.
It’s a hunt. And Aditi just became the bait.
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