Chapter 68 #4
"Di... Jiju started an anti-corruption operation.
It's dangerous. Only a few officers know about it.
Even one leak could put lives at risk. After yesterday's assassination attempt, I rushed here.
.. and we think this place might be under surveillance.
So we have a plan to distract them," Akash explained quickly, softening the truth without lying.
"So people want to kill Shaurya because of this operation?" she asked. Both nodded.
"And you baited yourself?" she asked Akash this time, and again both nodded.
"How stupid are you, Akash—" she began.
"Jiju already scolded me enough... don't start again. Right now, we just need to act like you called me here last night," Akash said.
"I'm listening... go ahead," Akansha said, listening to her brother attentively. Akash explained to his sister what they had to enact.
"So basically, you have to act like you called me here because you were afraid after learning about the assassination attempt on Jiju..." Akash concluded.
Akansha exhaled slowly. "You two really turned my house into a drama set.
" Shaurya smiled widely when he heard her say my house.
The fact that she had started accepting him made his heart flutter.
But he contained his smile as his wife looked annoyed, and he didn't want to face her wrath for smiling when she was already pissed off.
"Di... please... this is really important to distract them," Akash said.
"And to save your ass because you're stupid enough to bait yourself to confuse them and distract them from attempting another assassination attempt on your Jiju..." Akansha said.
"Fine. Let's do it."
Akash grinned widely — until she smacked him on the head.
"Never cut me off. If I scold you, you listen. What you did deserves scolding... maybe even a beating. Your Jiju might go soft on you, but I won't," she said, giving him another smack before walking away to begin the act.
Shaurya directed everything calmly, and Akansha and Akash followed his lead. Every movement, every word, was part of a careful plan.
Akash stayed close to his sister, keeping his tone soft. "Di... don't be afraid. You can call me anytime. I'll be there. Always."
It was deliberate. This showed anyone watching that Akash had come because his sister called him, not because he was part of Shaurya's operation. And yet, by the time he arrived, he already knew about the assassination attempt.
Once Akansha settled into the act, Akash moved on to the next step. He asked Shaurya questions—about what had happened, about the attempt on his life. His tone was curious, concerned, as if trying to understand the danger.
Shaurya answered carefully, giving just enough for Akash to think he was piecing things together. He let Akash voice suspicions, even about Virendar, who was in CBI custody. Shaurya didn't deny anything, just let the questions hang in the air.
Every look, every pause, every question made it believable. Akash seemed worried and engaged, but it was clear he was only trying to understand, not take part. Shaurya's calm guidance made sure the story stayed on track.
By the end, the act was complete. Anyone watching would see a brother protecting his sister, a Chief Minister handling threats—but no hint of Operation C Minus. The plan worked. Akash's presence was personal, and Shaurya's role was decisive.
The act clearly threw them off about Akash's involvement. Shaurya played it carefully, pretending to take precautions to stop any details of Operation C Minus from reaching his brother-in-law, who seemed intent on uncovering the reasons behind the assassination attempt.
After Akash left for his office, Akansha and Shaurya walked inside. As soon as they stepped in, Akansha huffed in annoyance.
"God! I thought I only had to act when Dev was involved, but you dragged my brother into this too? What an Oscar-level performance you two put up out there... I can never catch up to you," she mock-praised Shaurya, her eyes sparkling with amusement.
"Don't worry, we'll teach you quickly. And I'm confident in your learning skills—you'll do great," Shaurya said softly, trying to keep up with her playful tone.
Akansha shot him a sharp glare, and he immediately shut his mouth, muttering an apologetic, "Sorry."
"Aren't you getting late for work?" Akansha asked, still smirking.
"Yes," he admitted, rising to his feet.
"Then get out," she said firmly. Shaurya scrambled, quickly grabbing his work bag, a small smile tugging at his lips despite her mock scolding.
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@CM Office
Shaurya decided it was time to discuss his restructuring plan, but he knew better than to announce it to the entire party at once. He would start with those he trusted—the MLAs whose loyalty had never wavered.
Summoning them personally, he called for a discreet meeting in his office.
The meeting room was full, yet heavy with unease.
Shaurya sat at the head of the table, fingers loosely interlocked, his expression unreadable. Around him were a handful of MLAs who had stood by him since he took over—Pankaj ji, Naresh Ji, Mr. Manoj, Alka ji, and a few others who had chosen loyalty over convenience.
This wasn't the first meeting on Virendar Shekhawat's shadow.
It was just the one where pretence would finally end.
"We've already issued three public statements," Pankaj ji said, breaking the silence. "Clear condemnation. Zero tolerance language. Still, every headline carries his name next to ours."
Mrs. Alka nodded. "We removed his photographs from party offices. Changed social media banners. Even revised the party website history."
"And?" Shaurya asked calmly.
"And people are calling it selective amnesia," she admitted. "They're saying we're trying to erase him without owning up to what he did while wearing our symbol."
Manoj Ji leaned forward. "We supported the CBI investigation openly. Didn't interfere. Didn't defend him."
Shaurya's jaw tightened slightly. "And they asked why we stayed silent for years."
No one answered because there was no answer.
They had tried distancing.
They had tried condemnation.
They had tried silence.
They had even tried controlled outrage.
Nothing worked.
"Virendar Shekhawat wasn't just an individual mistake," Shaurya said finally, his voice low but steady. "He was a system. And systems don't disappear because you disown them on paper."
Pankaj ji hesitated. "Then what are we missing?"
Shaurya looked at him for a long second. "Honesty."
The room stilled.
"We are pretending we're still searching for options," Shaurya continued, rising from his chair. "We're not. Every option that preserves this party as it exists today keeps his shadow intact."
Alka frowned. "You're saying there is no middle path?"
"There never was," Shaurya replied.
He walked toward the window, hands behind his back. "We tried partial cleansing. We tried symbolic cuts. We tried pretending the rot was localised. But Virendar built this machinery brick by brick. Funding channels, loyalists, internal rules—everything answers to his era."
One of the MLAs spoke cautiously. "If we dismantle too much, we risk losing control."
Shaurya turned sharply. "Control of what? A structure people no longer trust?"
Silence again.
He took a breath, slower now. "That's why I called this meeting. Not to ask if we should restructure. But to make sure everyone here understands why there is no alternative."
Mr. Pankaj stiffened. "You're talking about complete restructuring."
"Yes," Shaurya said without flinching. "Organisational reset. Leadership council dissolved. Internal constitution rewritten. Funding audited from scratch. No automatic continuations. No inherited power."
Alka's voice dropped. "This will anger half the party."
"It already has," Shaurya replied. "They just don't know it yet."
Another MLA asked the obvious. "And Virendar's loyalists?"
"They will leave," Shaurya said plainly. "Or expose themselves trying to stay."
He returned to his seat, eyes scanning the table. "This is not about optics. This is about survival—of credibility, of governance, of the state."
No one interrupted him now.
"I will take the blame publicly," Shaurya added. "For not acting sooner. For trusting the wrong man. But I will not allow this party to bleed endlessly for someone who betrayed both power and people."
A pause.
Then Pankaj ji nodded. "If we do this... there's no going back."
Shaurya met his gaze. "Good. I don't intend to."
He already knew the cost.
He had calculated it long ago—and he smirked internally, satisfied that he could guide his loyalists down the path of restructuring.
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After taking his loyalists into confidence, Shaurya announced the restructuring plan to the entire party.
He presented it carefully, making them understand that this was the only viable option—every other measure they had tried had failed.
But he knew rationality was scarce in his party—or, more accurately, in the rotten market his father had once called a political party.
Then started the revolt.
The revolt didn't explode overnight.
It simmered.
The party headquarters felt like a battlefield without gunfire.
Closed-door meetings, hushed phone calls, leaders flying in and out of the capital, factions forming and dissolving within hours.
Some MLAs openly accused Shaurya of dismantling the party in the name of morality, others called it political suicide.
"He's burning the very ladder that brought him here."
"He thinks people will forgive everything just because he speaks well."
"Restructuring is fine, but erasing Virendar Shekhawat completely? That's madness."
Shaurya heard all of it.
He let them speak.
He let them threaten resignations, float rumours of joining rival parties, leak half-baked narratives to the press about "dictatorship within the party." He attended meetings, listened patiently, nodded occasionally—and revealed nothing.
They mistook his silence for uncertainty.
By the end of the week, the pressure peaked.
That morning, Shaurya called for one final meeting.
This time, the atmosphere was different. The room was full, but the confidence had drained out of it. Everyone knew something decisive was coming.
Shaurya didn't waste time.
"We're finalizing party tickets for the upcoming elections," he said calmly.
The room froze.
A few exchanged glances. Some straightened in their chairs. Others went still.
"I'll be announcing the candidates within forty-eight hours," he continued. "Those who are committed to this restructured party will stay. The rest are free to explore other options."
There it was.
The ultimatum they didn't expect him to deliver so soon.
What followed surprised even Shaurya.
One by one, leaders who had threatened rebellion softened. MLAs who had kept their distance suddenly requested private meetings. Those who were in talks with opposition parties quietly withdrew.
By the time the list was finalized, the numbers stared back at him in disbelief.
He had retained more MLAs than he ever expected. But does he want them? Of course No. They didn't return because of loyalty but out of realism.
They had finally understood something they always knew but never acknowledged fully—
they didn't win because of the party.
They won because of Shaurya.
People trusted him.
In the last five years, the state had witnessed growth that even his critics couldn't deny.
Infrastructure projects that actually reached the ground.
Farmers receiving timely support instead of hollow announcements.
Unemployment rates steadily falling. Corruption squeezed hard enough that it screamed.
Literacy numbers rising, especially among girls.
Women had benefitted the most.
From employment schemes to safety initiatives, from financial independence programs to representation in local governance—his administration had delivered, consistently.
And now, unexpectedly, his personal life was doing what politics couldn't.
The leaked videos didn't hurt him.
They healed him.
A Chief Minister stepping out at midnight to pick up a pastry for his wife.
Him running toward his daughter when she got hurt.
His daughter confessing on stage how he told her he loved her mother more.
Women's welfare organisations—once furious at him for abandoning his wife in the past—began to soften. Some openly admitted they were wrong. Others said people deserved second chances if they truly changed.
Shaurya never commented on it.
But he noticed.
The media, meanwhile, went berserk.
"Political Suicide or Masterstroke?"
"Shaurya Shekhawat Dismantles His Own Party"
"Can One Man Carry an Entire Political Machine?"
Panel discussions ran into the night. Experts argued, screamed, contradicted themselves. But he knew what he was doing.
One advantage worked in his favor: multiple cases against some of his party's MLAs for past corrupt activities made the opposition unwilling to take them in. Even if he fired them, they wouldn't get tickets elsewhere. The corrupt couldn't contest in the upcoming elections.
He knew what he was about to do would cause political turmoil. But for the ambition of a clean, capable cabinet, this was the first, necessary step.