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The night air was thick with the sterile scent of antiseptic, the rhythmic beeping of the monitors, the only sound breaking the silence in Aditya’s private hospital room. The dim glow from the bedside lamp cast long shadows, stretching across the floor like silent whispers of unease.

Veer Malhotra stood near the window, his tall frame still, yet tense. His hands were shoved into the pockets of his crisp black slacks, but his fingers curled into fists. Outside, the city lights flickered, alive with a world that felt far removed from the storm brewing inside him.

He couldn’t push the thought away.

This shouldn’t have happened.

His jaw clenched, muscles tightening as his mind replayed the events of the attack like a relentless film reel. The screech of tires. The sharp echo of gunfire. Aditya’s body hitting the ground.

The attack was for him.

Yet here he was—standing, breathing, while Aditya lay in that damn hospital bed, wrapped in bandages, his usually effortless smirk dimmed by painkillers.

Veer didn’t trust the hospital’s security, not entirely. He didn’t care how many guards were stationed outside the door—he needed to be here.

Needed to make sure nothing else went wrong.

Behind him, a tired voice broke the silence.

“You’re acting like I’m dying, man.”

Veer didn’t turn around. His gaze remained fixed on the glass, but his grip in his pockets tightened.

“It should’ve been me.”

Aditya sighed, shifting slightly, though the movement made him wince. He hated hospitals, but more than that, he hated seeing Veer like this.

“Oh please,” Aditya scoffed, forcing a smirk despite the dull ache in his side. “I don’t need a martyr. I need a whiskey.”

That finally made Veer look at him. Just for a second, a ghost of amusement flickered in his sharp eyes, but it was gone just as fast, replaced by something else. Something heavier.

Aditya saw it.

Guilt.

Rage.

A fury so quiet, so deep, it was dangerous.

The silence stretched between them before Veer spoke again, his voice lowered this time.

“They came after you because of me.”

Aditya rolled his eyes. “You think too much of yourself. Maybe I just pissed someone off.”

Veer didn’t react to the joke. His face remained unreadable, but his eyes—those sharp, stormy eyes—spoke volumes.

Aditya exhaled.

He knew Veer.

Knew that behind the ruthless, unshakable mask he wore, there was a man who bore the weight of every battle, every loss. And now, he was carrying this too.

Aditya clicked his tongue. “Look, boss, if you really feel that bad about it, just buy me an expensive gift. Maybe a yacht. Or an island.”

Veer’s lips barely twitched. “You’d sink the yacht.”

“Fair point. The island, then.”

The humor was forced, but it was enough to lift a fraction of the suffocating tension in the room.

A beat of silence passed. Then, Veer spoke, his voice quieter but edged with steel.

"They knew what they were doing," Veer muttered, his voice lower this time. "This wasn’t random."

Aditya exhaled. "No shit. It was a damn message."

Veer clenched his jaw. "Then let’s send one back."

A beat of silence passed. The unspoken understanding between them settled like an electric charge in the air.

Aditya clicked his tongue. “What’s the plan?”

Veer exhaled, finally pulling his hands from his pockets, his fingers flexing as if itching to grab onto something—anything—to break.

“First, we find out who was behind this.” His voice was cold, sharp. “And then… we make sure they regret it.”

Aditya smirked weakly, despite the pain in his ribs. "Now that’s the Veer Malhotra I know."

Veer didn’t reply. He was already thinking ahead.

Because whoever did this?

They had no idea what kind of war they’d just started.

Morning at Veer’s Mansion

The mansion was eerily quiet in the early hours of the morning. A soft golden glow filtered through the sheer curtains of the grand living room, casting warm patterns over the marble floors. The scent of freshly brewed chai lingered in the air, but the usual warmth of home felt distant—overshadowed by the weight Veer Malhotra carried on his shoulders.

The heavy double doors creaked open as Veer stepped inside, exhaustion written all over him. His black shirt was slightly crumpled, the sleeves still rolled up from the night before, exposing his tense forearms. His usually sharp gaze was dulled with fatigue, his posture stiff from hours of unrest.

Mrs. Malhotra was waiting.

She sat elegantly on the plush sofa, a cup of tea in her hands. But her eyes weren’t on the tea. They were on her son.

She didn’t speak immediately. She simply observed—how the usual confidence in his stride was slower today, how his eyes flickered with something deeper than tiredness.

And then, finally— “You look exhausted.”

Veer barely paused. “I’m fine.” His voice was rough from lack of sleep as he loosened the top buttons of his shirt and headed toward the grand staircase.

“Veer.”

His mother’s firm yet gentle voice made him stop in his tracks.

He turned slightly, one hand resting on the polished banister, his expression unreadable.

She sighed. “I know you stayed at the hospital all night.”

Veer’s jaw clenched for a brief second. “Aditya needed me there.”

Mrs. Malhotra nodded slowly, her gaze unwavering. “And what about you, Veer?”

For a second—just a second—Veer’s mask cracked. The tension in his shoulders, the storm brewing in his eyes, the way his fingers curled slightly into his palm…

But then, like a snap, it was gone.

His walls were back up.

“Don’t worry, Ma. Aditya will be fine.”

His mother sighed again, softer this time. “I wasn’t just asking about Aditya.”

Veer didn’t answer. Instead, he shifted the topic entirely.

“Did you have breakfast?”

Mrs. Malhotra exhaled, shaking her head lightly. “Changing the subject won’t make my questions disappear, Veer.”

But he was already walking up the stairs. “I need a shower and some sleep. We’ll talk later.”

And just like that, the conversation ended.

But Mrs. Malhotra watched him go, her mother’s instinct whispering that something was coming—something big.

Days Later – Morning at the Malhotra Mansion

The morning sun bathed the dining hall in a soft glow as Veer sat at the long table, stirring his black coffee absentmindedly. The newspaper lay untouched beside his plate, his mind elsewhere.

Across from him, Mrs. Malhotra noticed the unusual silence.

Her son, the ruthless businessman, always had a structured routine. But lately… he seemed different. Distracted. Tense.

And she knew why.

“I heard Aditya was discharged from hospital yesterday.”

Veer’s eyes lifted slightly at his mother’s words. He gave a small nod, taking a sip of his coffee. “Yes, maa he’s better now.”

Mrs. Malhotra hesitated before speaking. “You should bring him home for a few days. Let him recover here.”

Veer set his cup down. “He won’t agree.”

She gave him a knowing look. “I will call him, and talk to him.”

Before Veer could respond, his phone buzzed on the table. The name on the screen made his brows furrow.

Aditya.

Something felt… off.

He picked up the call, pressing the phone to his ear. “Aditya?”

The tone on the other end was serious. “Veer… you need to come to the office. Now.”

Veer straightened slightly. “What happened?”

A pause. Then— “Someone sent something to the company’s PR team. You need to see it.”

Veer’s grip on the phone tightened.

Mrs. Malhotra noticed the shift in his posture. “Veer?”

But he was already pushing back his chair. “I have to go.”

She frowned. “Veer, at least finish your—”

“Later, Ma.” His voice was clipped, distracted. He grabbed his blazer from the chair, his mind racing.

Something wasn’t right.

And he was going to find out what.

Veer’s Office

The atmosphere in the conference room was thick with tension. The PR team sat stiffly, exchanging nervous glances as Veer strode in, his presence sucking the air out of the room.

Aditya stood near the large screen, arms crossed, jaw tight. His expression alone told Veer everything he needed to know—this wasn’t just another business issue.

It was personal.

“What the hell is going on?” Veer demanded, his voice sharp.

Aditya didn’t waste time. He turned the laptop toward him. “Look at this.”

Veer’s eyes flickered to the screen—

And then his blood ran cold.

There, staring back at him—

A picture of him at the club, holding Naina close.

Another one from the hospital, where he had instinctively grabbed her before they collided.

Both perfectly timed. Carefully selected.

A setup.

Veer’s fingers curled into a fist.

“Where did these come from?” His voice was deadly calm.

The PR manager, a nervous-looking man in his mid-forties, cleared his throat. “Sir, these were sent anonymously. The message attached read—” He hesitated, then swallowed hard before reading, “‘The mighty Malhotra isn’t as clean as he seems. Either step down or prepare for what comes next.’”

Silence.

Veer’s expression darkened. His reputation—something he had built with precision, power, and fear—was under attack.

Someone wanted to stain his name.

Someone wanted to play.

Aditya exhaled, his hands resting on his hips. “It’s not about the photos, Veer. It’s about the timing. Someone planned this.”

Veer clenched his jaw, his mind running through possibilities. Who? Why now?

He glanced at the email again. The message wasn’t demanding money. It wasn’t blackmail in the traditional sense.

It was a warning. A challenge.

Someone wanted him out of the game.

His voice was steel as he spoke, his next words final.

“Find out who did this. I want names.”

Aditya nodded, his own expression dark. “Already on it.”

Veer exhaled sharply, his mind already working through his next move.

This was only the beginning.

And whoever was behind it?

They were going to regret ever thinking they could touch him.

Private Discussion – Veer & Aditya

The room was silent except for the rhythmic ticking of the clock. A storm brewed in Veer’s eyes as he paced near the window, his hands in his pockets, his mind drowning in thoughts.

Aditya leaned against the desk, watching him closely. He had known Veer for years—this was a rare sight. The Veer Malhotra people feared was never this… rattled. But tonight, his frustration was palpable.

Aditya took a slow breath before speaking. “Veer, you need to calm down. Think. We need a solution.”

Veer let out a sharp breath, rubbing his temple. “You think I don’t know that?” His voice was low, controlled, but the underlying frustration cracked through.

Aditya sighed. “Then stop pacing like a caged animal and start thinking like the ruthless king you are.”

That did it.

Veer turned sharply, his glare deadly. “Aditya, if you don’t have anything useful to say—”

“I do.” Aditya cut him off, unfazed. He knew Veer too well to flinch. “You’re too caught up in the problem. You need to focus on the solution.”

Veer exhaled sharply, his patience thinning. “Then enlighten me, Khanna, what's cooking in your mind ?”

Aditya reached into his pocket, pulled out a cigarette, and lit it. He took a slow drag before casually handing it to Veer.

Then, with the ease of someone discussing the weather, he said—

“Marry  Dr. Sharma.”

Silence.

Veer’s fingers tightened around the cigarette, his entire body stilling.

He slowly turned to face Aditya, his gaze filled with disbelief, anger, and something else—a mix of confusion and irritation.

“Are you out of your fvcking mind...?” His voice was sharp, cutting.

Aditya shrugged, completely unbothered. “Not at all. In fact, this is the cleanest solution.”

Veer let out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. “You’ve lost it. I’m not dragging an innocent woman into this mess.”

Aditya took another drag of his cigarette, his expression calm but firm. “Veer, think logically. We don’t know who sent this threat. But we do know they want to use your connection with Dr. Sharma to damage your reputation.” He exhaled the smoke slowly. “The media will have a field day. If we don’t act fast, this will blow up.”

Veer’s jaw clenched. His business empire was built on power, precision, and an unshakable reputation. If his name got tainted, it wouldn’t just be whispers—it would be a storm.

Aditya continued, his tone serious. “If you announce your engagement before this leak happens, then these so-called ‘scandalous’ photos?” He smirked. “They mean nothing. Just a billionaire with his fiancée.”

Veer narrowed his eyes. “You’re suggesting damage control.”

“No,” Aditya corrected. “I’m suggesting checkmate. We make the first move. We shatter the enemy’s plan before they even act.”

Veer was silent, his mind racing through the possibilities.

It was a logical move. Smart. Strategic.

But still… marriage?

His fingers flexed against the cigarette before he finally took a slow drag, exhaling with a dark chuckle.

Then, in a low whisper—almost to himself—he murmured,

“Dr. Sharma… ready to be mine?”

Aditya smirked, relieved that Veer was finally seeing sense. But he knew his friend well.

“So? Are you planning to drag her to the altar tomorrow?” He teased.

Veer shot him a glare. “I’m not forcing her into anything.”

Aditya chuckled. “Of course not. That’s not your style.” He crossed his arms. “But if we’re doing this, we do it smart. We make her say yes.”

Veer leaned back against the desk, exhaling smoke. “Then spill your plan.”

Aditya’s smirk deepened. “Oh, trust me, you’re going to love this.”

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