𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓓𝓸𝓷'𝓼 𝓐𝓻𝓻𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓮𝓭 𝓛𝓸𝓿𝓮

A sleek black Lamborghini rolled to a silent stop before the towering gates of the Chauhan mansion. Several other dark, expensive cars followed behind it, forming a small motorcade. As the doors opened one by one, armed men stepped out and took their positions like shadows.

Suddenly, the sky cracked open. A fierce wind howled, announcing the arrival of an unexpected storm. The manicured trees lining the driveway bent violently, dancing in the wild rhythm of the wind.

From the driver’s side of the Lamborghini, a figure stepped out—casually dressed despite the drama of the scene.

A simple coffee-brown shirt.

Crisp linen white pants.

Sharp eyes.

This was Yash.

He hung up a call, a faint, private smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Taking in the imposing mansion with crossed arms, he let out a short, cynical laugh.

“Yash, come on. It’s time to get inside,” Marco called, already hurrying toward the door. “If you make your dad wait any longer, he’ll kill both of us.”

Yash rolled the chewing gum on his tongue and muttered, “Fuck this shit…” before following.

Behind the charming, polished exterior of Rajeev Chauhan’s eldest son lay the dangerous shadow of his underworld life—something no one outside his circle knew.

Marco reached the entrance and gave Yash a friendly shoulder tap.

Yash ignored the storm outside and stepped in.

The moment he entered, everything stopped.

His father, Rajeev Chauhan, rushed forward and pulled him into a tight, emotional hug. Yash didn’t speak—couldn’t speak. He just held his father back, feeling a tightness in his chest.

His uncle, aunt, and little brother Adharv stood smiling.

But Yash’s gaze moved past them…

Straight to the framed photo of his mother hanging on the wall.

He was five when she died.

And even today, her memory was a wound that never fully healed.

Adharv—always the clown—slid behind him and wrapped him in a silly back-hug.

“Bhaiyaaa,” Adharv teased, running his fingers through Yash’s hair. “What conditioner do you use? Your hair is so silky smooth.”

Yash snorted, his sad thoughts dissolving for a second.

---

I

Later that night…

Everyone gathered for the welcome dinner. Rajeev talked business; Yash kept eating, pretending to listen.

“Yash, you need to take things seriously now,” Rajeev said, placing a hand over his son’s. “You’re a grown man. Responsibilities are waiting.”

Yash squeezed his hand back. “Papa, I just got home. Let me breathe first. Then I’ll handle everything. I promise.”

Rajeev smiled, satisfied.

“And listen… there’s a big function tomorrow. I have a surprise for you.”

Yash froze mid-bite.

A surprise?

Great. Just what he needed.

---

Yash walked into his bedroom and stopped dead.

Marco was lying in the center of his king-sized bed scrolling through his phone like he owned the place.

Without a word, Yash grabbed a pillow and hurled it at him.

“Ouch! What the—Fuck!” Marco shouted, dropping his phone.

“That’s MY line!” Yash snapped, pointing dramatically at the bed.

Marco scooted over, smiling sheepishly. “Relax, bro. There’s enough space. Come sleep.”

Yash pinched the bridge of his nose. “Am I your wife? Or girlfriend? Why would I sleep with you?”

“Because you’re my best friend,” Marco said with a fake innocent smile.

Yash wasn’t amused. He kneeled beside Marco and grabbed his collar.

“Are you fucking insane?” he hissed. “Papa just dropped some cryptic ‘surprise’ bomb on me and you're here playing Candy Crush?!”

He shoved Marco’s shirt away and dragged a hand through his hair.

“I just returned and already feel trapped. And tomorrow… whatever this surprise is…”

Marco’s face turned serious instantly.

“Yash,” he said quietly, “we have a bigger problem.”

He lowered his voice.

“The stolen plans… the driver Sal didn’t run. He was found dead—red rose on his chest, tied with a black ribbon.”

Yash stiffened.

“That’s Elena’s family signature,” Marco continued. “They’re making a serious move against you. And you’re stressing about tomorrow’s stupid surprise.”

He gripped Yash’s shoulder.

“But it’s worse than revenge. The message was personal. Elena is obsessed with you. This isn’t just threat—it's lust turned deadly.”

Yash groaned, flopping onto his bed and throwing a pillow over his face.

“Elena…” he whispered.

A storm outside.

A storm inside him.

To be continued…