Chapter 20

The car sped through the city’s dimly lit roads, leaving the fest’s music far behind. Veeresh sat in silence, his jaw firm, eyes sharp as steel. Arjun briefed him quickly, sliding a tablet across the seat.

“New intel confirms a shipment leaving tonight from the docks. Hidden in containers under textile exports. Human trafficking, sir. The contact names—again—it matches the Raj network.”

Veeresh’s hand tightened on the tablet. His brothers’ shadows loomed larger with every lead.

“Surveillance team ready?” he asked.

“Yes, sir. They await your signal.”

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Within an hour, Veeresh stood at the docks, the salty air heavy with the stench of oil and secrecy. Trucks lined the yard, containers stacked like lifeless giants. His men moved quietly, blending into shadows, eyes sharp for the faintest movement.

A whistle. A signal. A group of men in black coats approached a marked container. Papers exchanged, money passed, voices hushed but firm. Veeresh observed from a distance, his mind cataloguing faces, gestures, license plates—every detail to build his case.

Then he saw it—the emblem stamped faintly on the side of the container. Not foreign. Not anonymous. But belonging to one of the subsidiary companies under his own family’s empire.

His chest tightened. The truth was undeniable now. His bloodline was knee-deep in filth.

He motioned silently, and his men moved in—swift, precise. The traffickers never saw it coming. In moments, chaos erupted: shouts, fists, the crack of gunmetal against the cold air. Veeresh himself moved like a shadow, disarming one man, pinning another. His eyes were cold, unyielding.

But in the middle of the storm, as his fists struck, as his voice commanded, another image kept flickering in his mind—Poornima’s eyes on the dance floor.

Her words about love.

Her disdain for masks.

Her choice of truth over pretense.

What would she see if she saw me now? he wondered bitterly. A professor? A savior? Or just another man wearing masks?

The traffickers were subdued, the containers seized, the victims rescued. His men dragged the criminals away, but Veeresh did not celebrate. He stood among the wreckage, his suit stained, his knuckles bruised, his thoughts scattered.

Arjun approached carefully. “Sir… about the signing tomorrow. The board expects you. It’s a billion-dollar merger.”

Veeresh didn’t respond immediately. He stared out at the dark water, the night wind slapping against his face. His empire demanded him. His mission demanded him.

And yet, above both—his mind returned, stubbornly, endlessly—to Poornima Rai. Her tears. Her laughter. Her grace.

For the first time in years, Veeresh Raj felt torn—not between power and justice, but between the world he was trapped in and the world where she existed.