The phone rang in the early hours of dawn, sharp and urgent. Veeresh Rathore, seated in the quiet of his study, recognized the number instantly — Pavan’s manager. His jaw tightened as he answered.

“Mr. Rathore,” the man’s voice trembled, “the board is waiting. After… after Sir’s accident, we don’t know what to do. The shareholders are restless. Please, you must come.”

Veeresh closed his eyes for a moment, his thoughts pulling back to the hospital, to the fire, to Pavan’s fading words. Then he rose, cold determination washing away the grief. “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

Shekhawat Industries’ headquarters was in chaos when he arrived. Employees whispered nervously in the corridors, board members gathered with pale faces and anxious eyes. The weight of uncertainty was crushing them all.

When Veeresh entered the boardroom, the atmosphere shifted immediately. His presence was like a storm pressing against the walls — sharp, commanding, and merciless. The men who once treated Pavan with warmth now sat stiffly, as though facing judgment.

Veeresh didn’t waste time with pleasantries. He dropped the folder of documents onto the polished table. The sound echoed through the silence. “Pavan transferred everything in my name,” he said, his voice clipped, final. “From this day forward, Shekhawat Industries is under Rathore command. This company—” his eyes swept the room, pinning each director in place, “—is ours.”

Not a single man dared to breathe too loudly. The papers were there, stamped and signed. The legal proof of Pavan’s trust, his last wish.

The oldest director cleared his throat nervously. “Mr. Rathore, we—of course, we will honor the transfer. The board stands with you.”

Veeresh leaned forward, his gaze sharp as a blade. “Good. Because understand this—Pavan may be gone, but his company will not crumble. Anyone who dares to betray this trust, anyone who plays politics with what he built, will answer to me.”

There was no objection, no murmur of dissent. Only quick nods, pale faces, and the quiet acknowledgment that the empire had a new master now.

Veeresh straightened, buttoned his coat, and turned toward the door. His steps echoed like verdicts across the marble floor. Pavan’s legacy was in his hands now, and Veeresh Rathore had never lost anything he chose to claim.