Chapter Three.
The Rolls-Royce settled into its park, as the door was pulled open, Aarvik stepped out, his presence instantly draining the warmth from the morning sun.
He didn't move into the mansion. Instead, he stood rooted to the spot, his eyes locking onto the guard who had opened the door..
"I want every guard on duty here." Aarvik commanded. "You have sixty seconds."
The guard's face drained of color.
He moved with a panicked speed, to summons others out.
With a motion, Aarvik ripped off his suit jacket and tossed it onto the hood of the car.
"Get me my toy." he said.
One of the house guards bolted into the mansion, returning seconds later with a silver tray covered by a silk cloth.
He held it with trembling hands.
At the same moment, the rest of the guards scrambled into formation.
Fifteen men, all trained professionals, stood in a perfect horizontal line.
Aarvik reached out and unveiled the tray. Resting on the silver tray was a pair of tactical black leather gloves and a matte silver pistol.
The men stiffened.
Slowly Aarvik began to roll his white shirt sleeves up to his elbows.
As the fabric retracted, it revealed the tattoo ink, strong, vertical lines of script etched into his veiny forearms.
He picked up the first glove, pulling the leather tight over his knuckles.
"One of you.." Aarvik began, his voice dangerously calm as he started to pace the line.."..will not be seeing the sunset today."
He picked up the second glove, his eyes never leaving the row of terrified faces. He didn't look like a businessman anymore.
"Let's just hope.." he whispered, finally reaching for the pistol and checking the chamber with a click "..that you are able to miss my target."
Aarvik adjusted the last finger of his glove, he began to move again.
He stopped briefly in front of one guard, letting the man shiver under his gaze, before moving on.
He was hunting.
Finally, he came to a halt. He was standing directly in front of the young guard..the one with the kind eyes. The one who had dared to let his gaze linger on Zaira's smile.
"You.." Aarvik said.
The young man's legs gave out instantly. He hit the gravel on his knees, his hands shaking so violently he had to press them into the ground to stay upright.
"P..please sir.. please.. I.. I have my-"
"Quiet.." Aarvik hissed, his scowl deepening as if the sound of the man's voice was irritant.
"Aarvik? You're back already?"
The grand doors of the mansion swung open, and Mr. and Mrs. Singhania stepped out.
His mother's brow was furrowed in confusion, her eyes darting from her son to the terrified men and finally to the boy weeping on the ground.
"What is going on?"
Aarvik didn't even turn his head. He ignored her entirely, stepping back to the silver tray.
His tattooed arms flexed as he reached down and wrapped his gloved hand around the grip of the pistol.
He lifted it, the weight of the weapon looking natural in his hand.
He faced the young guard again, his expression grim..
"I will give you ten seconds.." Aarvik announced, "A ten-second headstart to race toward the gate."
The guard looked back over his shoulder. The massive iron gates of the estate were hundreds of yards away.
Even a world-class sprinter couldn't cover that distance in ten seconds. It was an impossible task.
"If you miss my shot..." Aarvik continued, his eyes narrowing, "you are free."
"Aarvik!" Mrs. Singhania caller rushing toward them. "What is going on? Why are you trying to-"
"Hold your wife, Mr. Singhania.." Aarvik interrupted, throwing a side-glance toward his father.
The elder Singhania's eyes darkened, a flash of shared ruthlessness passing between father and son.
Without a word, he reached out and caught his wife's arm, pulling her back against him.
Mrs. Singhania gasped, her face flushing with outrage.
"Are you serious right now!" she gasped at her husband, his gaze softening only slightly for her,.
Aarvik raised the pistol, his strong, veiny arm perfectly steady as he engaged the slide.
The metallic clack-clack of the gun being readied was the only answer his mother received.
He leveled his sights directly at the guard.
"Ten.." Aarvik began the count. "Run."
The young guard didn't wait for another second. Panic surged through his legs, and he scrambled up, as he bolted toward the distant iron gates.
He ran, his lungs burning..
"Nine.." Aarvik's voice was haunting.
"Eight."
"Seven."
Aarvik eyes narrowed, tracking the moving target with the carefully planned precision.
"Six."
"Five."
"Four."
"Three."
"Two."
Aarvik's finger tightened on the trigger.
"One."
The gunshot shattered, the loud bang of it echoing off the estate.
The men flinched..
The young guard jerked mid-stride, his body twisting violently before he collapsed onto the floor.
Mrs. Singhania let out a horrified gasp as she leaned against her husband.
Aarvik didn't lower the gun immediately. He stared through the sights at the crumpled form in the distance, his face devoid of any emotion..
No guilt, no triumph, just a cold boredom.
"Weak.." he murmured, He lowered the weapon and tossed it carelessly back onto the silver tray. "Bring him."
Two guards broke rank instantly, walking toward the fallen guard.
They hauled him back across the gravel and dropped him at Aarvik's feet.
The young man was gasping, clutching a shoulder that was rapidly soaking his suit.
Aarvik stood over him, peeling the black gloves off his hands with slow tugs. He shoved his hands into his pockets, looking down at the groaning man.
"I was aiming for your head.." Aarvik said. "You got lucky."
The guard could only let out a choked sob of pain.
"Get him out of here.." Aarvik ordered, his gaze shifting to the Head of Security. "And I mean out of this city. If I see his face in Mumbai again, I won't miss a second time."
He turned his gaze back to the line of shivering men..
Without another word, Aarvik turned. He walked toward the mansion entrance.
He moved past his parents, without a single backward glance.
"Take him to the hospital!" Mrs. Singhania commanded the remaining guards.. "Get him treated before you move him! Go!"
The guards hurried to obey, lifting the wounded man. Mrs. Singhania turned, her eyes burning in rage and heartbreak as she glared at her husband.
She didn't say a word, but the snap of her saree as she turned and walked back into the house, spoke volumes.
Mr. Singhania lingered for a moment, his gaze fixed on the crimson trail the guard left on the gravel.
He didn't look horrified, he looked bored even.
Without a word he turned and followed his wife into the mansion.
~??~
"What on earth did that guard do to deserve that, Aarvik?" his mother hurried behind him.
"You shot him! In cold blood! No explanation, no reason..nothing!"
Aarvik stopped dead at the first step of the staircase.
He turned slowly, his hand gripping the railing, his knuckles white.
He looked at her, the woman who had tried for two decades to fill a void that could never be closed.
His father walked into the frame, standing silently behind his wife, staring at his son.
"Answer me.." she said, crossing her arms, "what lead to you shooting a guard with no explanation. Speak to your mother"
"Step-mother.." he corrected."Don't ever forget that distinction."
The words hit her hard. Mrs. Singhania flinched, her face pale as she took a small step back.
Aarvik shifted his gaze to his father, his expression hardening.
"Keep your wife out of my business, Mr. Singhania."
He turned to continue up the stairs, but his father's voice rang out.
"You don't talk to her that way, Aarvik. She is your mother. She has cared for you, raised you, sacrificed for-"
"I never accepted her.." Aarvik interrupted, He looked down at them. "She is your wife. She is not my mother."
Mr. Singhania's face turned grim, He opened his mouth to retort, but Aarvik beat him to it.
"Again. Keep your wife off my business. Or I'll make sure she has no business left to attend to."
With that final threat, he disappeared into upper hallway.
Mrs. Singhania's strength finally gave out. She slumped against her husband's chest.
"It's been twenty years..." she whispered into his shirt sadly, her heart breaking all over again.
"He still won't accept me? After everything?"
Mr. Singhania pulled her close, his arms a protective cage around her as she cried.
He said nothing, but his eyes were fixed on the empty staircase where his son had just been.
And honestly, deep down, Mr. Singhania knew the truth.. he had no real say in his son's life anymore. Aarvik's hatred hadn't grown overnight.. it was a slow-burning fire that had started the very day the first Mrs. Singhania drew her last breath.
On that day, a young Aarvik's heart hadn't just broken..it had died along with her. Every smile, every ounce of warmth, and every shred of empathy had been buried in that grave.
Mr. Singhania let out a weary sigh. He gently pulled his wife back, his large hands framing her face so he could look into her eyes.
"You don't have to feel sad.." he murmured softly.
Mrs. Singhania looked up at her husband, her expression a mask of raw, lingering heartache. The man she loved was trying to comfort her, but his words felt hollow against the wall of Aarvik's rejection.
"You won't know how it feels.." she whispered, her voice trembling. "To give twenty years of your life to a child, to try and bridge a gap that he refuses to let close... you won't know the sting of being treated like a stranger in your own home."