Chapter Seventeen
Three Weeks After the Kidnapping
The war room in the Singhania estate was tense. Sidharth sat at the head of the long table, his expression carved from granite. Rishabh was to his right, reviewing surveillance photos. Arjun and three other key members of Sidharth's inner circle filled the remaining seats.
And then there was Advika, standing at the door.
"I want in," she said.
Every head turned. Sidharth's eyes widened fractionally—surprise, then concern.
"Advika, you don't need to—"
"Yes, I do." She walked into the room, her posture straight despite the lingering soreness in her ribs. "They took me. Used me as a bargaining chip. I have a right to be part of deciding how we respond."
"It's not about rights—"
"Then what is it about?" She moved to stand beside his chair, her hand resting on the back of it. "Because if it's about protecting me from the ugly parts of your world, that ship sailed when I woke up tied to a chair in a warehouse."
Sidharth studied her face—the determination in her eyes, the set of her jaw. She wasn't backing down.
"Fine," he said finally. "Sit."
She took the empty chair to his left, directly across from Rishabh. The other men shifted uncomfortably, clearly unused to having a woman—especially the boss's wife—in these meetings.
"The Khanna family," Sidharth began, pulling up photos on the screen at the end of the room. "Nitin Khanna is the head. Two sons, both involved in operations. They orchestrated Advika's kidnapping to destabilize our alliance with the Pradhans."
"And they're still breathing because?" Advika asked.
"Because I've been planning how to eliminate them without starting a war with their allied families," Sidharth replied. "The Khannas have connections to the Mehras and the Kapoors. If we move against them too overtly, we risk a multi-front conflict."
"So we need them gone, but we need it to look justified. Self-defense, not aggression." Advika leaned forward, studying the photographs. "What do we know about their operations?"
Arjun blinked, surprised by the question. "Uh, mostly drug running and money laundering. They own several legitimate businesses as fronts—restaurants, a construction company, a few nightclubs."
"And their weak points?"
"The younger son, Vikram. He's reckless. Hot-headed. His father has been trying to rein him in for years."
Advika's mind raced, pieces clicking together. "What if we didn't need to eliminate them? What if we could neutralize them instead?"
Sidharth's eyes sharpened. "Explain."
"Killing them makes martyrs. Creates a blood debt that their allies feel obligated to answer." She stood, moving to the screen. "But what if we destroyed them in a way that makes them untouchable? That turns their allies against them?"
"I'm listening."
"Their money laundering operation—how much do we know about it?"
Arjun pulled up files. "We've been tracking it for years. They move money through shell companies, mostly offshore accounts in the Caymans. We've never been able to get enough evidence to—"
"What if we gave that evidence to the authorities?" Advika interrupted. "All of it. Everything you've been tracking. Let the government tear them apart."
"The police won't touch them. Too many bribes, too many connections." Sidharth shook his head. "We've tried that route before."
"Not the police. The tax authorities. The international banking regulators.
" Advika's voice grew more confident. "Money laundering on this scale involves multiple countries.
If we feed the evidence to the right people—the incorruptible ones, the ones who can't be bought—the Khannas won't just lose their business. They'll lose everything."
Rishabh leaned back, a slow smile spreading. "Assets frozen. International warrants. Their allied families won't touch them because being associated with them becomes toxic."
"Exactly." Advika turned to Sidharth. "And while they're dealing with legal troubles, their operations fall apart. Their men jump ship. And we position ourselves to absorb their territory without firing a single shot."
"It's brilliant," Arjun said, admiration clear in his voice. "Ruthless, but brilliant."
"It's risky," Sidharth countered, but his eyes were gleaming. "If they figure out we're behind it before the authorities move—"
"Then we make sure they don't." Advika sat back down. "We use intermediaries. Anonymous tips. Make it look like it came from inside their organization—someone who got greedy and turned informant."
"Plant evidence of an internal leak," Rishabh added, catching on. "Turn them against each other while the authorities close in."
Sidharth was quiet for a long moment, his gaze fixed on Advika. She met his eyes steadily, waiting.
"Do it," he finally said. "Arjun, compile everything we have on their laundering operations. Rishabh, find our intermediaries—people with no ties to us who can pass the information to the banking regulators. And someone start planting rumors about an informant in the Khanna organization."
Orders given, the meeting dissolved into planning. But Sidharth's hand found Advika's under the table, squeezing once.
Impressive, his eyes said. You're incredible.
Two Weeks Later
The plan worked even better than expected.
International banking regulators descended on the Khanna operations like locusts.
Assets worth millions were frozen. Arrests were made.
And as the investigation widened, it became clear the Khannas had been even more reckless than anticipated—their money laundering extended to terrorist financing, human trafficking proceeds, cartel connections.
Their allied families distanced themselves immediately. No one wanted to be associated with that level of heat.
And in the chaos, as the Khannas scrambled to save themselves, the Singhanias quietly absorbed their territory. Clubs, restaurants, shipping routes—all transferred to Singhania control through legitimate channels, bought from desperate men trying to raise legal fees.
Nitin Khanna was arrested trying to flee the country. His sons turned on each other, each claiming the other was the informant.
It was devastatingly effective. And completely bloodless.
"A masterclass in strategy," one of the other family heads commented at a meeting of the council—the informal group of major players who kept the city's underworld running. "The Singhanias have gotten creative."
Sidharth smiled, his arm around Advika's waist. "My wife's idea, actually. She has quite the mind for this."
Every eye in the room turned to her. Advika met their gazes calmly, refusing to be intimidated.
"Mrs. Singhania," the Mehta family head said slowly. "I must admit, I underestimated you."
"Most people do," she replied evenly. "It works to my advantage."
A ripple of laughter went through the room. Approval, grudging but real.
"A toast," Rishabh called, raising his glass. "To Advika Singhania. Brilliant strategist, formidable force, and the best thing that ever happened to this family."
"To Advika," the room echoed.
She felt Sidharth's pride in the way he held her, the way his thumb traced circles on her hip. When she looked up at him, his eyes were warm with love and respect.
"My brilliant wife," he murmured, just for her.
"Your brilliant partner," she corrected.
"Partner," he agreed, pressing a kiss to her temple. "In everything."
That night, in their bedroom, Sidharth couldn't keep his hands off her.
"You were magnificent today," he said, backing her toward the bed. "Watching you command that room, watching them realize you're a force to be reckoned with—"
"You're turned on by my strategic planning?" she teased.
"I'm turned on by your brilliance. Your strength. The way you made grown men sit up and take notice." He pulled her flush against him. "You're incredible, and I want to show you exactly how much."
"Show me," she breathed.
He did, thoroughly and repeatedly, until they were both exhausted and satisfied, tangled together in the sheets.
"I'm proud of you," he said later, in the quiet darkness. "Not just for today, but for everything. For who you've become."
"I'm proud of us," she replied. "For what we've built together."
They fell asleep with smiles on their faces, partners in every sense of the word.