The Legacy of Fire and Blood

The Unexpected Summon

It was an unusually quiet morning when Veeresh received a call. The name flashing on his iPhone?

Zain Singh.

The man who once ruled half the city with just a nod.

Now, he was calling him.

> “Come to the Haveli,” Zain said, his tone calm, but with the weight of history behind it.

---

A Conversation Between Two Lions

Veeresh arrived at the old Haveli. The wind carried with it whispers of blood-soaked glory and silent power.

Zain Singh stood near the edge of the courtyard, dressed in plain white kurta-pajama, the air of a man who had seen it all — and buried it too.

> “You came,” Zain said, eyes still sharp, smile faint.

> “You asked,” Veeresh replied, lighting a cigarette, his voice composed, unreadable.

They stood in silence before Zain spoke again.

> “I’m happy you're taking care of my daughter. She... she’s smiling again.”

Veeresh turned to face him fully.

> “You know about the attack?”

Zain nodded.

> “I do. And I also know… you’re the only man who can keep her safe now.”

Veeresh clenched his jaw.

> “Why do you trust me so much?”

Zain didn’t answer directly. Instead, he handed over a red velvet folder.

> “All the property. The empire. The blood and gold. Everything… transferred to your name.”

Veeresh’s eyes flickered.

> “It belongs to Poornima.”

Zain smiled, proud and pained.

> “Poornima doesn’t care for all this. She’s not built for this world. You are.”

Then he said something that shook Veeresh.

> “I’m stepping down. No more mafia. No more wars. Let’s see who will win now.”

He walked away slowly, like a lion retreating into the jungle after handing over his kingdom.

---

Smoke and Silence

Veeresh stood still for a long time.

His mind raced.

Why? Why would Zain give him all this? The empire? His daughter? His trust?

He didn’t have answers.

He pulled out a cigarette with slightly trembling hands, lit it slowly, took a long drag…

…and then took out his iPhone.

He tapped the screen.

And there it was.

Her photo.

Poornima.

In a white kurta. Hair tied in a braid. That soft, innocent smile lighting up her eyes.

The same smile she gave him when he said “Take care.”

He stared at the photo.

> “You don’t even know what your father just did,” he whispered with a half-smile.

> “He gave me everything. And all I want… is you.”

He exhaled slowly, smoke swirling around the screen.

And for a brief second, the ruthless Veeresh Rathore — the man who never bowed — felt a strange ache.

Not from power. Not from responsibility.

But from love.