Aman's POV:

The hospital room was quiet, the hum of machines providing a steady, rhythmic background as I stood by the door, watching my father. Rajesh Sharma, the man who built our empire with his bare hands, lay there on the hospital bed, a bandage wrapped around his arm and traces of pain etched on his usually confident face. Seeing him like this was unsettling, and it fueled a rage deep within me. Whoever did this was going to pay, and they were going to regret it.

I took a deep breath, straightened my posture, and walked over to the side of his bed. "Dad," I said, my voice firm but low, "what happened?" I was trying to keep my composure, but inside, I was boiling with questions, with anger.

He opened his eyes slowly, the familiar sharpness still present despite his weakened state. "Aman ," he said, his voice a bit hoarse, but steady. "I didn't think you'd rush over like this." He managed a faint smile, trying to downplay the gravity of the situation. Typical Rajesh Sharma, always the strong one, even when the odds were against him.

"What do you mean?" I shot back, leaning in closer. "You were attacked, for God's sake. Of course, I'd be here. Now tell me everything. Who did this?" I needed to know, and I wasn't leaving without answers.

He exhaled deeply, as if gathering his thoughts. "It was supposed to be a routine day. I had a meeting scheduled, but as I was on my way, some cars blocked my SUV. Before I knew it, my security detail was overwhelmed. These men—they were professionals, knew exactly what they were doing. They shot down my guards before they even had a chance to respond." His eyes flickered with a mixture of anger and something I rarely saw in him—vulnerability.

I clenched my fists, my knuckles turning white. "And they just started shooting?" I asked, trying to piece together the scenario. "Why? What did they want?"

"Money, power—who knows?" he replied, his gaze distant as he recounted the details. "They were after something, or maybe just trying to send a message. They didn't ask for anything, didn't say a word. It was a hit, pure and simple."

"Did you get a look at any of them?" I pressed, feeling the frustration rise. "Anything we can use to track them down?"

"No, they were masked," he said, shaking his head slightly. "I managed to catch a glimpse of one of them, but it was too brief. They didn't seem interested in talking."

I could tell there was more to the story. There was always more when it came to my father. "What else?" I demanded, my eyes narrowing. "You're not telling me everything."

He hesitated, and for a moment, I thought he was going to brush me off, but then he sighed. "I don't remember much after the shooting started. I was hit, and everything went dark. The next thing I knew, I was here in this hospital bed."

Something wasn't adding up. "So, how did you get out of there? How did you end up here, in one piece?" I was searching for answers, trying to connect the dots. If he was shot and unconscious, someone must have helped him.

"Does it matter?" he said, avoiding my gaze, a slight edge to his tone. "I'm here now, and that's all that matters. We'll deal with it when the time is right."

"No, Dad, it does matter," I said, my voice sharper than I intended. "Whoever saved you could have seen something, could have given us a lead. Why are you being so vague about this?" I wasn't used to him being this secretive, and it was starting to grate on my nerves.

He looked at me, his eyes narrowing, as if contemplating whether to share more. "It's nothing you need to concern yourself with right now, Aman. The important thing is that I'm safe, and you don't need to worry."

I stepped back, running a hand through my hair, trying to keep calm. "Don't need to worry?" I repeated, incredulous. "Dad, someone tried to kill you. I'd say that's something worth worrying about."

"I understand," he said, more softly now, trying to placate me. "But right now, I just need you to focus on keeping the business running smoothly. We can't afford to show any weakness, especially not now."

I wanted to argue, to push him further, but I knew it wouldn't do any good. My father was as stubborn as they came, and when he made up his mind, there was no changing it. Still, the fact that he wasn't giving me the full story only made me more determined to find out the truth on my own.

I forced a tight smile, trying to hide my frustration. "Alright, fine," I said, knowing this conversation was going nowhere. "But I'm not letting this go. Whoever did this is going to regret it."

He nodded, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "That's my boy," he said, his voice filled with pride. "Always ready for a fight. But be careful, Aman. There are forces at play here that you don't understand yet."

I didn't respond. I just stood there, letting his words sink in, my mind already racing through a hundred different scenarios. Forces I don't understand? I didn't care who was behind it—I was going to find them, and when I did, they were going to wish they'd never crossed the Sharmas.

I glanced over at Riya, who had been quietly sitting in the corner of the room. Her face was pale, and I could tell she was just as shaken by all of this as I was, even if she was trying to hide it.

"Riya, do you have any idea who might be behind this?" I asked, turning to her.

She shook her head, looking almost guilty. "I don't, but... I did see something, a video or let's say the same video but recorded by someone else," she said hesitantly. "It's all over social media—a clip of the attack. Someone managed to record it from a distance."

"What?" I snapped, immediately alert. "Show me."

Riya pulled out her phone, her fingers trembling slightly as she brought up the video. The footage was grainy, but I could make out the chaos—the gunshots, the smoke, the flashes of movement. And then, there it was: a shadowy figure, barely visible in the low quality of the video, stepping out of a car and rushing towards my father's SUV. The person was clearly trying to help him, fighting off the attackers with a skill that took me by surprise.

But who was it? I squinted at the screen, trying to make out any identifying features, but the footage was too poor to tell.

Riya seemed to read my mind. "I couldn't tell who it was, and no one else seems to know either," she said quietly. "But whoever it was... they saved Dad's life."

I nodded, my mind racing. Someone had stepped in to protect him, and I had no idea who. But I was going to find out, no matter what it took.

I looked back at my father, who had closed his eyes, clearly exhausted. "Rest, Dad," I said softly. "We'll figure this out."

As I walked out of the room, Riya by my side, I felt a strange mix of emotions—anger, confusion, and a growing sense of unease. This was far from over, and I wasn't going to rest until I had every piece of the puzzle.

Whoever had saved my father had just become the key to unravelling this entire mess, and I was going to find them. And when I did, I was going to make sure they knew exactly who they were dealing with.

Anshika's pov:

As I stepped into the familiar confines of my mansion, a wave of exhaustion washed over me. The day had taken a toll on me, both physically and mentally. I could still feel the sting in my shoulder where I'd been shot, a constant reminder of the chaos that had erupted just hours before. But more pressing than my injury was the weight of the secret I was carrying—the truth about Rajesh Sharma.

The moment I entered, I was greeted by a flurry of activity. My family was gathered in the living room, voices rising and falling in a frantic chorus. The television was on, reporting the latest developments about the attack on Rajesh Sharma. My father's best friend was suddenly the talk of the town, and everyone seemed to have something to say about it.

"Did you hear? They say it was a targeted attack!" My mother's voice carried across the room, tinged with concern. "This is so dangerous. Who would want to hurt Rajesh? He's a good man!"

I lingered at the entrance, my heart racing as I absorbed their words. They were discussing my father's best friend, the man I had just saved. I could feel my stomach tighten at the thought of revealing my involvement. It wasn't the right moment, not when everyone was in such a state of worry.

"Maybe it's related to his business dealings," my brother chimed in. "You know how cutthroat the industry can be."

"Or maybe it's personal," my sister added, glancing at me as if gauging my reaction. "It wouldn't be the first time someone tried to take down a powerful figure like him."

I felt a sharp pang of irritation at the implications. They had no idea what they were talking about. They didn't know that I had been there, fighting to save him. Instead of joining their conversation, I took a step back, feeling suffocated by their chatter. The last thing I wanted was to dive into the swirling rumours. I needed a moment of peace, a chance to collect my thoughts away from the chaos.

"Excuse me," I said quietly, avoiding their curious glances. I slipped past the crowd and headed straight for the sanctuary of my room, my mind racing.

Once inside, I shut the door and leaned against it, taking a deep breath. The silence enveloped me like a warm blanket, but it did little to ease the turmoil within. I glanced around at the familiar decor of my room—the vibrant colours of my fashion sketches, the soft glow of the lamps. Yet, nothing felt comforting right now.

I sank onto my bed, my laptop still clutched in my hands. I opened it, the familiar click of the keyboard grounding me. I had emails to respond to, meetings to prepare for, but all I could think about was what had happened earlier. I had gone from designer to saviour in mere moments, and I still couldn't quite process it all.

As I typed, my thoughts drifted back to the old man, Rajesh. He had looked so vulnerable in that car, bleeding and unconscious. I had fought off those goons without even thinking twice, driven by instinct. But I never expected to find out he was tied to Aman, the man I was supposed to be competing against in this ruthless business world. What if he finds out?

The implications of my actions began to settle heavily on my shoulders. I had saved his father, and now I was intertwined in a web I hadn't asked to be a part of. What if they think I'm trying to play both sides?

I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts. The clock on my wall ticked softly, a reminder that I couldn't dwell on this forever. I needed to focus on my work. There were deadlines to meet, clients to satisfy.

As I pulled up my emails, I heard a soft knock on my door. It was my mother, her voice gentle as she called through the wood. "Anshika? Can I come in?"

I hesitated for a moment, then replied, "Sure."

She opened the door slowly, peering inside. Her expression was a mix of concern and warmth. "I just wanted to check on you. We were talking about Rajesh and..."

I cut her off, not wanting to delve into the conversation. "I'm fine, Mom. Just tired from the day. Can you let me be for a while?"

She studied me for a moment, and I could see the worry in her eyes. "Alright, but if you need anything, you know where to find me."

I nodded, grateful but also feeling the weight of her concern. As she left, I returned to my laptop, but my focus was scattered. I couldn't shake the feeling of guilt gnawing at me. I had saved a man who was not only influential in the business world but also tied to Aman in ways I had never anticipated.

I can't let this distract me. I thought, forcing myself to focus on the work at hand. I needed to prepare for the upcoming meetings, make sure my designs were ready to impress, and somehow keep my world separate from the chaos that was unfolding around me.

But deep down, I knew I was only postponing the inevitable. My connection to Rajesh Uncle would surface eventually, and when it did, I would have to face the consequences of my actions—and the man I was beginning to understand as more than just a rival.

With that thought looming over me, I forced myself to dive back into my work, hoping that somehow, I could outrun the storm that was brewing just beyond the doors of my sanctuary.