A Collision of Worlds

The Crystal Mirage Hotel, a beacon of power and prestige, stood illuminated under Vasgarh's glittering skyline. Tonight, it hosted the Business and Defense Summit—an event where alliances were forged, strategies exchanged, and legacies cemented.

Inside the grand ballroom, the air was thick with the scent of aged whiskey, expensive cologne, and quiet ambition. Men in tailored suits and women in elegant gowns engaged in hushed negotiations, the clinking of crystal glasses a mere backdrop to conversations that could reshape economies and empires.

Power wasn't flaunted here—it was understood.

But then, the air shifted.

A ripple. A whisper.

Then—𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦.

A subtle shift in the air signaled his arrival before he even stepped inside.

The moment he walked in, conversations lulled, stolen glances turned into open stares, and every breath seemed to hitch in unison. He wasn't just any businessman—he was the businessman, the unchallenged ruler of Vasgarh's corporate empire. His mere presence demanded attention, commanded reverence, and instilled fear.

Dressed in an impeccable three-piece black suit, Ravindra Raizada stood cold, untouchable, and utterly lethal in his refinement. Midnight-black hair, sharp as obsidian, was slicked back, accentuating the razor-sharp cut of his aristocratic features. Dark, calculating eyes swept the room with disinterest, their depths promising both power and destruction.

Few dared to meet his gaze. Even fewer dared to approach.

But if Ravindra was the storm, his companions were the flames that added to the spectacle.

Vivaan Raizada, his younger brother, possessed the same striking Raizada genes but with an edge of boyish charm. If Ravindra was ice, Vivaan was fire—warm, flirtatious, and dangerously charismatic. Women gravitated toward him effortlessly, drawn to his easy smiles and devil-may-care attitude. Yet, beneath the charm was a mind as sharp as his brother's, a businessman whose instincts were razor-sharp.

And then there was Veer Rathore, Ravindra's childhood friend and closest confidant. Tall, effortlessly elegant, with a smirk that could melt hearts and shatter confidence all in the same breath. He exuded a lethal combination of playfulness and mystery, a man who thrived on chaos yet controlled it better than anyone.

Together, the three men owned the room without uttering a single word.

Ravindra walked with unhurried grace, his cold, emotionless mask firmly in place. He was a man who neither sought attention nor avoided it—he simply was, and the world adjusted around him.

As they moved through the crowd, Vivaan and Veer took charge of the obligatory pleasantries, exchanging handshakes and polite conversation with dignitaries and CEOs. Ravindra, however, remained detached, his presence enough to make an impression.

Just as the atmosphere was being lively again—

Another commotion erupted at the entrance.

The grand entrance doors opened, and for the first time in years, Ravindra Raizada felt as if he lost his breath.

She stepped in like a silent storm, draped in power, veiled in mystery, cloaked in an aura so commanding that even the air around her seemed to still in submission.

She was dressed in an all-black ensemble, tailored to perfection—a fitted suit jacket cinched at the waist, paired with sleek, high-waisted trousers that emphasized every inch of her poise. The fabric gleamed under the chandelier's glow, sharp and deadly, much like the woman herself.

Hair pulled back into a sleek, low ponytail, minimal jewelry, no unnecessary embellishments—just raw, unshakable power.

The effect was instantaneous.

Aira didn't speak. She didn't need to.

The hush that fell over the banquet hall was deafening. Conversations stilled, glasses hovered mid-air, and eyes—every single eye in the room—turned to her.

The Ghost General had arrived.

For most, her presence alone was enough to make them stand straighter, to remind them why whispers of her name carried both admiration and terror. She wasn't here to impress. She was here because duty demanded it.

But for Ravindra, it was something else entirely.

He had expected to meet high-ranking military figures tonight. He had prepared for bureaucratic exchanges, political games, and empty formalities.

But not her.

Not the legend wrapped in flesh and steel.

He had heard the stories, the legends. But none of them did justice to the woman before him.

"Who's she?" he muttered to his brother.

The man gulped. "That's General Aira Mehra."

His grip on his whiskey glass tightened. Interesting...

Meanwhile, Aira was barely paying attention to the guests. She hated these gatherings. Her mission was simple—make an appearance, ensure military presence was respected, and leave.

But fate had other plans.

She was moments away from reaching her place when it happened.

A waiter, overwhelmed by the sheer presence of Vasgarh's two most formidable forces under the same roof, lost his balance and collided with Aira.

A full glass of red wine went flying—straight toward Ravindra Raizada.

The deep crimson liquid splashed onto his pristine white suit.

Silence.

A deafening, deadly silence.

Time itself seemed to hold its breath.

The waiter paled, visibly shaking. Sweat pooled at his temples.

Aira stopped in her tracks, her gaze flickering to the drenched man before her.

Ravindra Raizada, the man who could crush industries with a single signature, the man no one dared to cross, stood rigid, his eyes locked onto her in unreadable intensity.

And then—

A smirk—

Slow. Dangerous. Amused.

And it wasn't on Ravindra's lips.

It was on hers.

Their eyes met.

It was small, barely there, but unmistakable. Amusement flickered in Aira's eyes, sharp and unapologetic.

"Well," she drawled, voice laced with undeniable amusement, "I suppose even business kings aren't immune to battlefield accidents."

A moment of stunned silence.

For the first time in his life, Ravindra Raizada was utterly speechless.

Vivaan let out a low whistle that was barely audible. Veer stifled a chuckle.

And in that moment, as the tension between the two forces crackled like a brewing storm, one thing became dangerously clear.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐧....