Chapter 7: The Doppelgänger Mystery
The SUV tore through Mumbai's empty streets, its headlights slicing through the misty darkness. Inside, Aryan sat stone-faced, gripping the steering wheel tighter than necessary.
Renu sat in the passenger seat, staring at the surveillance photo on Aryan's phone. The image was blurry, but the figure standing outside Manav Dixit's motel was unmistakable.
It was Aryan.
But that was impossible.
Aryan had never stepped inside the building before the moment Manav was shot. So how the hell was he caught on camera minutes before the murder?
"We need to talk about this," Renu said, breaking the tense silence.
"There's nothing to talk about," Aryan muttered, keeping his eyes on the road.
Renu scoffed. "Oh, really? Because I'm looking at a photo of you outside a crime scene when you weren't there. Either you've mastered teleportation, or someone is walking around with your face."
Aryan gritted his teeth. He had already considered both possibilities. The first was impossible. The second…
The Phantom.
A shadow in the criminal underworld. A master of deception. A ghost that no one had ever seen twice with the same face.
If the rumors were true, The Phantom wasn't just a hitman—he was a shapeshifter in plain sight.
Aryan clenched the steering wheel harder. "It's a frame job."
Renu shook her head. "This isn't just about framing you. This is psychological warfare. Someone wants you to question what's real."
Aryan remained silent, but her words struck a nerve.
Because the truth was, a part of him was starting to question it too.
A Visit to the Dead Man's House
They arrived at Manav Dixit's safe house—a rundown apartment in a forgotten corner of Mumbai. The air inside was stale, filled with the scent of old books and paranoia.
Aryan flicked on the lights. The walls were covered in newspaper clippings, red strings connecting names, events, and places. It looked like the mind of a man who had spent his life chasing ghosts.
Renu's eyes moved across the chaotic arrangement. "Jesus… He was obsessed."
Aryan stepped closer, reading the headlines.
• "The Assembly: Mumbai's Most Exclusive Secret Club"
• "Disgraced Politician Found Dead—Suicide or Cover-Up?"
• "Missing for Six Months—The Journalist Who Knew Too Much"
And then, one article that made Aryan freeze.
It was an old crime report. The headline read:
"Billionaire Heir Found Dead in Abandoned Factory—Body Never Recovered."
Aryan's stomach twisted.
The victim's name?
Aryan Nagtilak.
A Ghost from the Past
Renu noticed his reaction. "What is it?"
Aryan's mouth went dry. He didn't answer. He couldn't.
The article was dated six years ago.
According to this report… Aryan was supposed to be dead.
Renu grabbed the newspaper from his hands. "This has to be a mistake."
But Aryan wasn't so sure. His mind raced, trying to piece together memories that suddenly felt fragile.
Six years ago… he had been in a car accident. A crash that left him hospitalized for months.
Could there have been… something else?
Was he missing pieces of his past?
And if so—who put them there?
The Phantom's Game
Aryan's phone buzzed.
Unknown Number: You're getting close, Detective. But will you like what you find?
Another message came through.
A knight protects its king. But what happens when the knight turns against him?
Then, an attachment.
Aryan opened it.
Another surveillance photo.
This time, it was clearer.
A man stood in a dimly lit alley, partially hidden by shadows. He was wearing Aryan's signature coat, his posture identical, his face tilted just enough for the streetlight to cast a familiar shadow.
A shadow that looked exactly like Aryan Nagtilak.
Renu whispered the thought that Aryan was too afraid to say out loud.
"…It's you."
Aryan's pulse pounded. No. This wasn't him.
But it wasn't just someone impersonating him, either.
Whoever this was—they knew Aryan better than he knew himself.
They moved like him. Thought like him.
And that meant something terrifying.
This wasn't just a case. It was personal.
And The Phantom was making sure Aryan knew it.
End of Chapter 7