The Rathore mansion rose like a fortress against the crimson dusk, its marble walls gleaming under golden lamps, its towering gates guarded as though royalty lived inside. Akash Khan stood before those gates with a suitcase in one hand and the faintest smile tugging at his lips. The world thought he was just a middle-class orphan, newly married into wealth far above his station. To the world, he was the foolish man who had somehow convinced Svetlana Rathore—the elegant, untouchable daughter of Mumbai’s richest business magnate—to marry him.But beneath the mask of humility, behind those dark, watchful eyes, Akash carried a truth only a handful in the police force knew: he was no ordinary groom. He was Detective Akash Khan—sharpest mind in Mumbai’s Anti-Narcotics Bureau, sent here on an undercover mission to bring down the empire of none other than Mr. Raghav Rathore. And tonight was the beginning of his most dangerous act.The iron gates creaked open after a guard scanned him top to b

The Rathore mansion sparkled that evening with music, chatter, and the faint clink of crystal glasses. Guests filled the halls—business partners, politicians, and relatives, all gathered for a lavish dinner to celebrate Maya Rathore’s upcoming marriage into the Singh family.Akash stood quietly near the back, dressed in a plain kurta, blending into the servants who circulated with trays of drinks. He wasn’t meant to serve, yet somehow a tray had been shoved into his hands again by one of Svetlana’s cousins. The guests laughed and gossiped, ignoring him completely.But Akash’s eyes weren’t on the guests. They were fixed on Mr. Rathore. The man moved from one politician to another with a serpent’s charm, laughing heartily, clinking glasses, his every gesture calculated. Akash knew that behind that smile lurked the true face of a criminal mastermind.From across the room, Svetlana caught his eye for the briefest moment. She was radiant in a crimson gown, her hair pinned in jeweled waves.

The confrontation on the balcony hung in the air like smoke.Svetlana’s eyes, sharp and gleaming, bore into Akash as he crouched in the shadows of her father’s office.“Why,” she repeated slowly, “are you sneaking around here?”Akash straightened, his mind racing. The faint moonlight traced the outline of her face — beautiful, distant, unreadable. A dozen lies formed in his head, but the detective in him knew better than to overplay.“I was looking for a letter,” he murmured, his tone calm, almost bored. “Your father misplaced something important. He asked me to find it.”Svetlana didn’t move. She studied him with unnerving stillness, like she was deciding whether to call the guards or not. Then, unexpectedly, she turned away.“Don’t make a habit of it,” she said quietly, stepping into the hall. “This house has eyes everywhere. If they see you where you don’t belong…”Her voice trailed off.Akash remained motionless until her footsteps faded. His chest tightened. Did she believe him—o

The night air over Mumbai was thick with heat and the hum of distant traffic, but Akash Khan moved like a shadow, silent, deliberate. His target: a warehouse at Nhava Sheva port, where Rathore’s latest shipment—hidden beneath machinery containers—was being prepared for transport. Every step of this operation had to be precise. One misstep, and not only would Rathore’s empire tighten further, but his cover inside the mansion could be blown.He paused atop a shipping container, surveying the scene below. Security cameras swept the perimeter in regular patterns. Armed guards patrolled every corner, their flashlights cutting arcs through the darkness. But Akash’s eyes missed nothing. The coded schedules, the guard rotations, the crates stamped with Rathore insignia—all were already memorized from weeks of surveillance and ledger study.A soft beep from his wrist device confirmed it: the Singh family’s DNA-matched identity had remained undiscovered. That advantage had to remain his shield

The night was heavy with humidity, and the port area at Nhava Sheva was eerily quiet, lit only by the dim glow of distant floodlights. Akash crouched behind a stack of shipping containers, eyes fixed on the dock below. The next Rathore shipment was being loaded—a shipment that, if intercepted, could cripple the empire he had been meticulously studying for months.Every sound was amplified in the humid night. The distant hum of generators, the shuffle of crates, and the low murmur of Rathore’s men were all clear as day to Akash. He had memorized the guard rotations, the camera blind spots, the exact timing of the crane operators. Everything was in place for the heist.He checked his wrist device. Signal was weak but stable. A backup team from the police force was in position, disguised as dock workers. Everything depended on perfect coordination.---Inside the mansion, Svetlana paced her room. She had learned enough to know Akash was not the man the Rathores thought he was, yet she di