All Chapters of The Impossible Heir : Chapter 21
- Chapter 30
43 chapters
21. The Fugitive Bride
The drums thundered, the crowd cheered, and Maya’s wedding glowed like a fairytale come alive.Gold and maroon silks shimmered under a thousand chandeliers. The scent of sandalwood and roses filled the air as the shehnai wailed its haunting tune. Guests laughed, cameras flashed, and the Rathores smiled — masks of happiness stretched over faces that hid the night’s bloody secret.Svetlana stood at the edge of the courtyard, her fingers trembling as she adjusted her dupatta.Her reflection in the mirror looked alien — face pale, lips colorless, eyes ringed with shadows. No one noticed. Everyone was too caught up in the festivities.She could still feel the weight of Akash’s blood on her hands.It hadn’t come off — not really. The faint reddish stain clung to her skin like guilt.Every sound — every laugh, every drumbeat — echoed the same haunting word in her mind: Run.She had obeyed. Somehow, she’d escaped the study before Ravindra’s men could grab her. She had fled down the back corri
22. Bloodlines
The rain had slowed to a whisper by the time Akash pulled the SUV to a stop.The engine ticked in the silence, the world outside drowned in mist and the distant hiss of thunder fading into the hills.Svetlana blinked against the dizziness, her body trembling from blood loss and exhaustion. Her side burned where the bullet had grazed her, and she could barely keep her eyes open.“Stay with me,” Akash said, his voice rough. He stepped out, rainwater dripping from his hair, and came around to her side. He opened the door, his movements sharp with urgency but trembling beneath their calm.“I’m fine,” she tried to say, but her voice cracked halfway through.“You’re not,” he snapped — not in anger, but fear. The kind that digs deep into your ribs and refuses to let go.He slipped an arm around her waist, steadying her as they stumbled toward the ancient structure looming ahead — a half-ruined temple swallowed by the forest. Ivy crawled up the cracked walls; the old gods carved into stone wa
23. The Devil's Bargain
The moon was a pale, distant witness over Mumbai that night — half-hidden behind clouds, as though even it didn’t want to see what was about to happen. The Rathore estate gleamed like a citadel of gold and glass, but behind its lavish walls, something darker simmered — whispers, shadows, and the scent of blood waiting to be spilled.Inside a cramped safe house a few kilometers away, Akash was adjusting a transmitter inside his jacket, his expression hard and focused. The small room buzzed with tension — radio static, flickering lights, and the distant hum of city traffic bleeding through thin walls.Svetlana watched him from across the table, her face pale but resolute. Her arm was bandaged, her eyes still carrying the ghost of the wound she’d survived. Yet tonight, there was a different fire in them — not fear, but purpose.“Are you sure this will work?” she asked quietly.Akash looked up, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips. “It has to.”She frowned. “That’s not an answer.”He le
24. The Fall
Flames roared like angry gods.The Rathore estate — once a monument of wealth and power — was now a furnace of vengeance. Chandeliers shattered under the heat, glass raining down like stars from a collapsing sky.Akash and Svetlana ran.Gunfire exploded behind them — a thunderous rhythm in the inferno. Zain’s men poured through the corridors, shadows in the firelight, their bullets tearing through smoke and marble.“Go!” Akash shouted, pushing Svetlana ahead as they stumbled through a side passage. He fired blindly behind them, the recoil biting into his injured arm. “Head for the south wing!”“I can’t see anything!” Svetlana gasped, coughing as the air turned thick and black. Her saree caught a spark, and Akash ripped the burning edge away before pulling her against him. “Stay low!”They ducked beneath the collapsing beam, the world shaking around them. Every hallway looked the same — orange, smoke, chaos. The grand portraits of the Rathores blistered and burned, faces melting into u
25. Resurrection
Mumbai — six months later.Rain hammered the skyline like a punishment from the heavens. Neon lights bled across the soaked streets, painting everything in shades of violet and red. The city never slept — it simply traded one kind of noise for another.And somewhere in the heart of that chaos, Akash Khan was alive.He moved through the crowded bazaar like a shadow, unrecognizable in his stubble and dark hoodie. The fire had taken half his past — but the other half had learned to hide. The world thought he’d died with Zain Singh and the Rathores that night.He’d made sure of it.Now, he was Aarav Mehta — a nondescript man with a forged ID, a small apartment in Andheri, and a ghost’s patience.But beneath the calm, his mind burned.On the table before him lay files — stolen, smuggled, encrypted.Every page was a thread that led back to one name: Singh Industries.The empire that killed his parents.The empire his blood belonged to.And the empire that still ruled from the shadows.Far a
26. The ghost in the network
Night cloaked Mumbai like a secret.The city pulsed with light, noise, and hidden sins — but inside the Singh Industries data center, it was quiet. Too quiet.Rows of servers hummed like mechanical beasts. Blue lights blinked in the dark. Each one contained records worth billions — shipment manifests, encrypted ledgers, and the skeletons of every deal the company ever made.And somewhere inside that digital labyrinth… Akash Khan was moving like a ghost.He’d broken into the building dressed as a security technician, fake credentials flashing on his badge, the ease of a man who had done this too many times to count. His fingers danced across the console, bypassing layers of firewalls with methodical grace. Every line of code, every password he cracked, was a strike against the empire that had swallowed his life.A small earpiece crackled.“Status?” a voice whispered.“Inside,” Akash murmured. “Downloading financial logs. I’ve got maybe ten minutes before the internal system flags a bre
27. The Devraj Enigma
The monsoon rain was relentless that night — pounding rooftops, drenching the alleyways, washing the sins of the city into its drains.Inside a dim warehouse on the city’s outskirts, Akash Khan stood over a flickering laptop, the glow reflecting off his face.Around him lay scattered maps, surveillance photos, and decrypted files — his world reduced to an obsession.Every thread led to one name.Devraj.He’d traced it for weeks — through Singh Industries, the Rathore network, and a dozen offshore accounts. But Devraj wasn’t a man. He was a ghost. No ID. No history. No face. Just whispers in encrypted messages and coded wire transfers.Tonight, that was about to change.Akash leaned closer as his program cracked the last layer of encryption from a server buried in Geneva’s financial system. The code broke — and a file appeared on his screen.A video.Timestamp: two months before the Rathore mansion explosion.He hesitated, then clicked.The footage was grainy — a hidden camera recordin
28. Revelation
The night Mumbai slept, the Rathore mansion didn’t. It was one of those suffocating nights when silence itself felt heavy, like it knew something terrible was about to happen. Outside, thunder grumbled over the Arabian Sea. Inside, Akash’s heart pounded louder than the rain that lashed against the stained-glass windows.He had just returned from the Singh estate, his shirt still damp from the drizzle, when everything began to spiral. Svetlana was waiting for him in the living room, her eyes burning with something between hurt and suspicion. Her arms were crossed tightly, a storm brewing in her chest.“You lied to me,” she said, her voice trembling slightly.Akash froze mid-step. “What are you talking about?”“I followed you,” she snapped. “For days, Akash. I saw you sneaking out at night. I saw the files, the recordings, the calls from that number saved as ‘R.K Bureau’.” She took a step forward, voice cracking. “Who are you really?”He felt the ground shift beneath his feet. His insti
29. The ambush
The clock struck eleven forty-five. The sky above Mumbai’s harbor was the color of bruised steel—thick clouds smothering the moonlight, the salty wind carrying the faint smell of oil and the sea. Dock 47 loomed ahead, silent and skeletal, its cranes stretching upward like the arms of sleeping giants.Akash parked a few blocks away and continued on foot, his black hoodie drawn low, blending into the shadows. His pulse beat steady but sharp, every sense alive. He knew this was a trap. The text had been too convenient, too sudden—sent right after Rathore found his secret room. But there was something about it he couldn’t ignore. The mention of the shipment.That shipment was what he’d been chasing for months. If he could intercept even a fraction of the cargo—drugs, weapons, or whatever poison Rathore was selling—he could finally link the Rathore empire to the underground network that ran half of Mumbai’s crime.He crouched behind a shipping container, watching the faint glow of headligh
30. Unmasked
The safehouse smelled of damp concrete and antiseptic, the faint hum of a ceiling fan the only sound cutting through the tension. Rain tapped insistently against the thin metal roof, each drop echoing like a countdown.Svetlana stirred on the narrow cot, her arm wrapped in a makeshift bandage, her cheek pressed to the hard pillow. Pain radiated through her side, but sharper than the ache was confusion and fear. She opened her eyes slowly, taking in the dimly lit room, and then froze.Akash was kneeling on the floor beside her, wiping a damp cloth across her wound with methodical precision. His hoodie was damp from the rain, his sleeves rolled up, exposing muscular forearms tense with control. Every movement was deliberate, careful — yet there was a heaviness in his posture that made her stomach twist.“You’re awake,” he said softly, not looking up. His voice was low, controlled, but it carried a weight that made her chest tighten.“I… I am,” she whispered. “Why… why did you save me?”