Chapter 1
Meera
Five years later
“How could you be so stupid?” I snap, pacing Samarth’s living room.
“I… I… I was carried away,” Sonia stammers from the couch, her eyes fixed on the floor, her fingers gripping the edge of her dupatta.
I stop mid-stride and stare at her. Guilt tugs at me for snapping at her.
Sonia Mehra, my friend, whom I’m supposed to be there for and not take my anger out on.
I inhale slowly and really look at her. Her loose dark waves, usually glossy and perfectly styled, hang limp around her face.
Her kajal-lined brown eyes look swollen, and her dusky skin is drained of its usual warmth.
Even her already slim frame looks as if it’s shrinking under the weight of everything she’s carrying.
I’ve never seen her like this in the four years I’ve known her, ever since I joined The City Chronicle, where she was first my colleague, and then eventually became my friend.
A hesitant smile curves my lips as I think of how the three of us—Samarth, Sonia, and I started out together as interns.
How we pulled endless all-nighters chasing stories, celebrating every tiny victory with coffee, Maggi, and impromptu dance sessions in the newsroom.
Over time, our bond only grew stronger, and we each found success in our professional lives.
Samarth rose to become the Managing Editor.
Sonia earned her place as one of the most trusted field reporters.
And I carved my own path to become one of the top journalists at the firm.
I drop onto the couch beside her. My tone softens as I take her hand in mine and give it a gentle squeeze.
“Listen, I’m not trying to make you feel bad. But going to the hospital alone to get an abortion? Sonia, that wasn’t smart.” I say, not as a journalist, but as someone who’s genuinely worried about her friend.
“What else could I do?” Her brown eyes rise to meet mine, and her chin trembles, but she keeps going.
“I couldn’t tell my mom that her daughter got pregnant without being married.
She’s still recovering, barely sleeping after losing Dad.
You know how fragile she is. She just survived a heart attack.
The doctor said one more shock could…” She trails off, wiping her eyes. “I couldn’t do that to her.”
My heart aches for her. Sonia lost her dad to cancer last year, and even then, she didn’t fall apart. She held it together for her mom, becoming her strength when she could’ve easily broken down herself.
I breathe out slowly. “But still, Sonia—”
“No, don’t. Please don’t,” she cuts in right away.
“You think I don’t know how stupid it was?
You think I wanted to do this alone?” Her breath hitches.
“Please, understand, I didn’t have a choice.
I just… I didn’t know what else to do, Meera.
So please, stop reminding me how I’ve screwed up my life with my own hands. ”
I swallow hard, the lump in my throat refusing to budge. “I won’t ask for details,” I say softly. “You don’t have to tell me anything you’re not ready to. But Sonia…” I pause, holding her eyes. “At least tell me his name. Who the hell is he?”
A few moments of silence stretch between us as I wait for her to say the name. I don’t even know what I’ll do once I hear it, but one thing is certain. The person who hurt my friend won’t be at peace.
“It’s Veer Rathore,” she says finally, her voice breaking on his name.
My stomach turns the moment I hear the name. “You mean—”
“The younger son of the business tycoon, Mr. Rajdeep Rathore,” Samarth’s voice completes my sentence.
I look up to see him walking towards us, carrying two mugs of coffee.
“The Rathores,” he continues, his tone clipped, “Rich and filthy powerful. To the world, they own half the pubs in the city, but behind the scenes, they’re tied to everything illegal — drug rackets, criminal network, and more, all protected by political backing.
” He hands a mug to Sonia, then to me, before taking the seat opposite us. “They’re not people you cross easily.”
I wrap my hands around the steaming mug.
Samarth is right. The Rathores aren’t people you mess with.
I’ve never met any of them personally, but I’ve heard enough to know the kind of power they hold in this city.
Mr. Rajdeep Rathore built an empire after his wife died years ago, leaving behind two sons who now run most of his businesses.
Their influence stretches everywhere—politics, media, even the police.
A few months ago, I’d tried digging into a story about their mob connections, but it never saw the light of day. The higher-ups killed the story before it could go to print. I still remember the look my chief editor gave me, a silent warning that said, drop it if you want to keep your job.
I kept quiet back then, but not this time.
As I watch Sonia continue to tremble, something inside me burns hotter than any warning, sharper than reason. This isn’t about a story anymore. It’s personal.
“They think they can do anything and get away with it. Not this time,” I say, my voice hard as stone. “This time, I’ll make damn sure Veer Rathore regrets ever laying a hand on my friend.”
Sonia’s head snaps up, fear flashing in her eyes. “No! You can’t. They’ll destroy you. They’ll destroy… us.”
Samarth leans forward grimly, his elbows resting on his knees, his eyes locking with mine. “She’s right about the danger, Meera,” he says quietly. Then he turns to Sonia. “But Meera isn’t wrong either.”
Sonia frowns. “What does that even mean?”
He looks between us, his eyes softening a little. “Meera doesn’t back down once her mind is made up. If anyone’s going to bring the Rathores down, it’ll be her.”
“You’ve both lost it if you think you can make them pay,” Sonia snaps, terror breaking through her voice. “Do you even realise what’s at stake? If the news of my abortion gets out…” She shakes her head. “My life will be ruined. My mother, my career, everything.”
“Your name won’t be dragged through this, I promise you,” I assure her, giving her hands a gentle squeeze once more. “And Veer, the asshole that he is, wouldn’t want the abortion news out either. Men like him hate scandal. There are ways to make him pay without sacrificing your reputation.”
“Sonia, you need to trust us on this,” Samarth adds.
I look at him and give a thankful nod, then turn back to Sonia. “For now, the first step is simple. We go to him and see what he says.”
Sonia swallows, the fight draining out of her. After a moment, she slowly nods. “Okay,” she whispers, wiping her cheeks as she rises unsteadily on her feet.
I stand up and reach out to steady her. Without another word, Samarth slips on his jacket. I grab my bag from the couch and swing it over my shoulder as we all head for the door. Seconds later, the three of us climb into Samarth’s black jeep.
As Samarth starts the engine, I glance back from the passenger seat and watch Sonia stare out the window.
“Where will we find him?” I ask quietly.
She hesitates for a moment before murmuring, “His guest house… on Hillview Road. That’s where he told me to meet him to hand over my abortion report.”
What a complete ass. I don’t say it aloud, while Samarth’s jaw tightens and his foot presses harder on the accelerator.
The drive to the guest house is nothing but a silent war. None of us speak. I guess we’re all lost in our own battles, each trying to figure out how this will end.
An hour later, Samarth finally pulls up outside an imposing house.
My eyes take in the polished white marble steps leading up to a heavy oak door, set against dark grey stone walls.
Narrow, shuttered windows line the facade, and wrought-iron railings glint under the dim evening sun, giving the place a cold, fortress-like aura.
Samarth kills the engine, and I twist in my seat to look at Sonia. Her hands are clasped so tightly that her knuckles have turned white.
I reach across and wrap my fingers around hers, giving them a firm squeeze.
“Don’t worry,” I whisper gently. “You’re not alone. We’re right here with you.”
She gives me a nod as we step out together. Samarth leads the way while I walk beside Sonia, who clings lightly to my arm. We climb the marble stairs, and on reaching the door, Samarth presses the metal bell mounted above it.
A few seconds later, a young maid opens the door.
“Yes?” she asks, her eyes flicking between us.
“We’re here for Veer Rathore,” Samarth replies.
Before the maid can respond, an overly cheerful voice calls out from inside. “What a surprise.”
I glance over her shoulder and see the jerk himself.
I may never have met him before, but I’ve seen enough pictures to know he’s Veer Rathore.
And now, seeing him in person only confirms what I’ve heard about him.
It’s impossible to miss the arrogance in his persona—loose shirt, tousled dark hair, and that unmistakable confidence.
Around twenty-nine, he wears that infuriating look of a spoiled brat, the kind that screams he’s used to getting everything he wants without ever lifting a finger.
“Veer,” Sonia whispers, her fingers tightening around mine.
I don’t bother with pleasantries. Instead, I lock eyes with him. “We need to talk.”
“Please,” he says with a mocking bow. “Come in.”
The three of us cross the threshold. The maid closes the door behind us and disappears to her left. As soon as I take a step inside, the stale smell of cigarettes and booze hits my nostrils. I bet this is where he spends all his party nights.
When we reach the living room, my eyes take in the polished dark wooden floors, plush cream-coloured rugs, abstract art adorning the walls, and heavy velvet drapes framing tall windows. Every piece of furniture looks expensive. Meticulously curated, and perfectly placed.
Veer flops onto the couch, his brown eyes roaming lazily over us as we stand opposite him. “Sweetheart, I asked you to bring me your abortion report to confirm you got rid of the baby. But here you are… with your lackeys.”
“How dare you take advantage of her?” Samarth spits.
Veer shrugs casually. “I didn’t take advantage of her, man. She was willing. We both had a good time.”
My jaw tightens, my hands clenching at my sides. “You ruined her life. Do you even know she went to the hospital alone to get the abortion?”
Veer leans back, amused. “So? Was she expecting me to send an army of people to the hospital for her?”
“Not an army,” Samarth snaps back at once. “You were supposed to be there with her.”
Veer scoffs. “If I had to accompany every woman I got pregnant, I’d be living in hospitals. Come on, you need to know I’m a very busy man,” he says, wearing his arrogant smirk.
Samarth’s face hardens. “You’re a fucking coward. Too gutless to own up to your responsibilities.”
“Oh, spare me the moral sermon. If you want, I’ll reimburse her for the abortion. Hell, I’ll even pay her for the night she—”
He doesn’t get to finish.
Samarth yanks him by the collar, hauling him to his feet.
“You’re a pathetic excuse for a man,” he growls. “Say one more word about her, and I’ll make sure you regret it.”
Veer laughs mockingly. “Oh my God, I’m scared.”
Samarth doesn’t waste his energy on words this time. His fist crashes into Veer’s face, and blood instantly blooms at the corner of his mouth. Veer staggers back, one hand flying to his jaw, his eyes wide with shock.
I can’t help the small, victorious smile that spreads across my face. The jerk deserved every bit of it. I pull Sonia closer and hold her tight as she trembles beside me. She’s been quiet all this while.
“You fucking made a very big mistake, man,” Veer snarls, wiping the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. “Now my bro’s going to make you pay.”
“You think I’m scared of your brother?” Samarth exhales harshly.
“You should be.” A harsh, cold voice cuts through the tension from behind us.
I spin around, and the moment my eyes lock onto him, I know exactly who he is.
Dev Rathore, the elder son.
Even from just a few feet away, the difference between him and Veer is striking.
Dev stands six feet tall, while Veer barely touches five-ten.
His dark hair is perfectly styled, and his broad shoulders fill the tailored three-piece suit he wears, giving him a far more commanding presence than Veer.
My eyes remain fixed as I study the finer details: dark eyes, a strong jaw, sharply defined cheekbones, and chocolate-toned skin that looks almost sculpted to perfection.
The kind that can make any woman feel drawn in.
Yet I feel nothing. Because I already know the kind of asshole he is, and his brother has more than proven it.