The drive home was silent, but Siddharth’s head was anything but. Avneet’s words from earlier still echoed like poison in his ears...

He had clenched his jaw so hard the whole way back that his teeth ached. The worst part? She was right. For all his suspicions, for all the glimpses he had caught of her vulnerability, there was a whole life behind those cold brown eyes that he didn’t understand.

But none of that mattered now. Because the moment he stepped into the marble halls of his house, the air shifted.

The guards avoided his eyes. The silence wasn’t the usual heavy silence of this mansion... it was sharper, cut with the weight of something waiting to explode.

The sound of crystal shattering against the wall made him flinch. His father, Virendra Nigam, stood in the center of the grand living room, his tailored suit unruffled, his cane tapping against the floor with deliberate menace. His eyes... black and merciless... locked onto Siddharth.

“Do you know,” his father’s voice was calm, too calm, “how much money I lost tonight because my heir...” the word dripped with venom... “decided to run after some college girl instead of closing a deal with men who matter?”

Siddharth stayed silent, standing straighter, his fists curling at his sides.

Virendra’s hand lashed out, the cane striking his son’s leg with a crack. Pain shot up Siddharth’s thigh, but he didn’t flinch. He wouldn’t give his father that satisfaction.

“You embarrassed me. You embarrassed our name.” Virendra stepped closer, his breath hot with rage. “Do you think this is some playground? Do you think you can walk out of meetings as you please? Those men were not just investors... they are tied to Oberois.”

The name struck Siddharth’s chest like ice water. He blinked, for a second thinking he misheard. “Oberois?”

“Yes,” Virendra spat, shoving the cane against his chest. “Shivaay Singh Oberoi doesn’t do business with fools. He controls a network bigger than you can comprehend. And tonight, you cost me his trust.”

Siddharth’s blood froze. Avneet. Her father.

His father’s cane pressed harder against him, dragging him back to reality.

“You want to go to college boy?” Virendra hissed. “Fine. But remember, Siddharth... every time you make me lose face, you will pay the price. Don’t forget who keeps you alive.”

He wanted to scream, to shove the cane away, to break free... but instead, he stood still, his jaw locked, his eyes burning.

“Now,” Virendra said coldly, stepping back. “You will fix this. You will prove to Oberoi that Nigams are still worth respecting. I don’t care how. I don’t care who you crush. But if you fail again…” He didn’t finish. He didn’t need to.

The silence that followed was worse than any threat.

Siddharth turned away, blood boiling in his veins. Avneet’s face flashed before him... her smirk, her drunken tears, her whispered confessions. Daughter of Shivaay Singh Oberoi. The irony made him want to laugh, except it tasted like bile.

So that’s who you are, Avneet. Not just a spoiled brat, not just a manipulative witch. You’re blood. Mafia blood.

And suddenly, everything felt even more dangerous.

---

Siddharth stared at himself in glass elevator as it climbed floor to floor... sharp suit, a faint bruise still visible under his jaw from Virendra’s cane, eyes carved from sleepless nights. He straightened his tie, a ritual more to steady his mind than his appearance.

You cannot stumble. You cannot flinch. He’s not just a businessman. He’s a wolf.

The elevator doors opened on the 47th floor. Siddharth stepped onto polished marble so clean it reflected the ceiling lights. The receptionist rose to stop him, but his stride was too purposeful, his aura too commanding.

By the time he pushed open the tall double doors to Shivaay Singh Oberoi’s room, it was as though the air itself shifted.

The room was power dressed in glass and wood. A city skyline framed Shivaay like a throne, and the man himself was elegance sharpened into a blade.. salt-and-pepper hair, tailored suit, eyes that missed nothing. He didn’t rise. He didn’t extend a hand. He merely regarded Siddharth with a faint curl of amusement.

“You’re Virendra’s boy,” Shivaay said, his voice smooth, practiced, dangerous. “The reckless one. The one who thought it wise to insult my associates and walk out mid-meeting.”

The words should have cut. But Siddharth didn’t flinch. He walked to the sofa opposite Shivaay and sat without waiting for permission, mirroring his posture... lean back, steady gaze.

“I’m also the one,” Siddharth said calmly, “who can repair that insult.”

Shivaay’s brow lifted. He leaned forward slightly, “Oh? And why should I believe that? Your father could barely contain his fury at your little… stunt.”

Siddharth’s smirk was slight, deliberate. “That’s because my father is playing the old game, Mr. Oberoi. You’ve outgrown that game, haven’t you? You don’t need men who pound fists and make empty threats. You need men who can move like shadows, who understand the dirt but don’t get their hands dirty. Men who make enemies disappear without anyone knowing there was ever a war.”

For a moment, silence pressed heavy between them.

Shivaay’s eyes narrowed, then flickered with a gleam of interest. “You speak boldly. But words are wind. What exactly are you offering, Siddharth Nigam?”

Siddharth leaned forward now, his voice lowering into something precise. “Safe passage through the eastern ports. The customs officers on that stretch? Half of them owe favors to Virendra’s men. But the other half...” his lips curved faintly, “...they owe me. And unlike Virendra, I don’t need to pay them with blood. I pay them with futures. Scholarships for their children. Medical bills cleared. I make them loyal in ways fear never could.”

Shivaay’s eyes sharpened. “And why would you give me that?”

Siddharth didn’t blink. “Because loyalty is currency. And if I can buy yours today, Mr. Oberoi, imagine what else I can buy tomorrow.”

The older man studied him for a long moment. Then, a slow smile tugged at his lips. He stood circling the table, his leather shoes soft against the floor. He stopped just behind Siddharth.

“You’re sharper than your father gives you credit for,” Shivaay murmured, almost to himself. “Virendra breeds soldiers. But you…” He moved back around, taking his seat again. “…you think like a king.”

Siddharth’s eyes glinted, but his expression remained cool. “Maybe that’s because I grew up surrounded by men pretending to be kings. I learned early that crowns mean nothing. Power belongs to the one who holds the knife steady when everyone else’s hands shake.”

A chuckle slipped from Shivaay, genuine this time. “Dangerous philosophy for someone so young.”

“Dangerous,” Siddharth replied, “is the only philosophy that survives.”

For the first time, Shivaay clapped... two slow, deliberate strikes of his palm. “Impressive. You remind me of a younger me.” His tone shifted, sharp and deliberate. “But let me test you, Siddharth. If I put you against your father, whose side do you take?”

Siddharth’s smirk returned, sly, unreadable. “The side that wins.”

Shivaay laughed then, full-bodied, the kind of laugh that rattled glass. He leaned forward, extending his hand at last. “You’ll go far, boy. Perhaps farther than your father ever dreamed.”

Siddharth held his hand firmly, meeting his eyes without wavering. A deal wasn’t struck, not officially. But the understanding was there.

And when Siddharth left that office, he didn’t just walk away with Shivaay Singh Oberoi’s attention. He walked away with his respect.

---

In the elevator, Siddharth’s reflection looked back at him again, but this time there was something new in his eyes.

Not pride. Not victory.

It was something darker.

Because now he knew the truth: Avneet’s father was a king of shadows, and he had just placed himself directly in the man’s circle.

And as the city lights blurred below him, Siddharth whispered to himself, ‘Avneet Kaur Oberoi… No matter how much I try to avoid you... You keep barging in my world!’

---

Avneet walked across the lawn in her usual attitude, designer bag on her shoulder, sunglasses perched like a crown. She was still the center of attention... even after the whispers, even after the looks. Her pride wouldn’t allow anything less.

But today the stares felt… different. Too sharp. Too focused.

She noticed someone the moment he stepped out from under the banyan tree. A man in his late twenties, not a student, but blending just enough to pass. His eyes tracked her like prey. His smirk was the kind that crawled under her skin, too familiar.

Avneet’s stomach twisted. She had seen men like this before.

He closed the distance casually, as though he had every right to walk straight up to her.
“Avneet Kaur,” he drawled, voice low and deliberate. “Oberoi princess, huh? Finally found you.”

Her pulse spiked. She masked it with a scoff, tilting her chin. “Excuse me? Do I know you?”

He stepped closer, invading her space. “Not yet. But your father owes people like me favors. Maybe you can help him… repay.”

The crowd around them barely noticed.... college gossip drowned everything. But one pair of eyes had been watching from afar, sharp as a hawk.

Siddharth.

He didn’t hesitate. His body moved before his mind did. In three long strides, he was between Avneet and the stranger, his hand locking around the man’s wrist so fast it looked rehearsed.

The man hissed in surprise, his smirk faltering. Siddharth’s voice was low, controlled, but it carried a venom Avneet had never heard before.
“Touch her, and you won’t leave this ground breathing.”

The stranger’s eyes widened at the steel in Siddharth’s tone. He tried to tug free, but Siddharth’s grip was unrelenting, veins bulging along his forearm. With one sharp twist, he forced the man to his knees, pain flashing across the stranger’s face.

Around them, a few students finally noticed the commotion, murmurs spreading. Avneet stood frozen, her facade of arrogance cracking for the first time.

Siddharth leaned down, whispering close to the man’s ear.
“You think Oberoi blood makes her vulnerable? Wrong. She’s under my watch now. Tell your boss if he wants something, he comes to me. Touching her means messing with Mafia king.”

With that, Siddharth shoved the man back. The stranger staggered, clutching his wrist, eyes darting between Siddharth and Avneet before he stumbled away, disappearing into the crowd.

Silence stretched for a beat.

Avneet’s throat felt dry. She looked at Siddharth... his jaw tight, eyes cold, posture rigid like a soldier. He wasn’t the boy she mocked in class, the one she taunted into rage. This Siddharth was dangerous, calculated… untouchable.

She forced a smirk, though her voice wavered. “Wow. Playing hero now? What’s next, Nigam, you gonna carry a cape around?”

Siddharth didn’t even glance at her. He simply dusted his hands off and said, “Stay away from men like that. They’d eat you alive.”

Something about the way he said it... flat, certain... hit her chest harder than she expected. It almost felt as if he has already said something like that to her. She wanted to laugh, to snap back with her usual bite. But instead, words slipped out before she could stop them, quiet, almost raw.

“You think I haven’t been prey before?”

Siddharth’s gaze flicked to her for half a second. Enough for her to feel stripped bare. Then, as quickly as it came, he looked away and walked off, leaving her standing there with her smirk fading and her heart pounding.

For the first time, Avneet wasn’t sure if she wanted to mock him… or chase after him.