Spying On Vihaan

A Mysterious Deal

As Harjeet Singh and Vihaan were engaged in conversation, Harjeet suddenly said in his Punjabi-accented voice, "Alright, puttar, let's sign the contract now!"

Saying this, he picked up his phone and dialed a number, instructing someone to bring the contract immediately. Within minutes, a man in a black coat walked in, holding a thick file. His neatly combed hair, polished shoes, and confident gait indicated that he was a seasoned lawyer. He respectfully greeted both Harjeet Singh and Vihaan before carefully placing the file on the table.

The restaurant's warm yellow lighting cast a soft glow on the papers as Harjeet opened the file and ran his fingers across the crisp sheets. He skimmed through the pages with practiced ease, occasionally nodding as he read. Then, with a satisfied smile, he slid the contract toward Vihaan.

"Puttar, read this properly!"

Vihaan adjusted his wristwatch and picked up the papers. The faint scent of fresh ink lingered as he scanned the contract carefully. The words were bold and clear—

"Eat Delicious Restaurant is officially being sold to Vihaan Kumar for 2.5 crores."

Vihaan flipped through the pages, his sharp eyes analyzing every clause. The air in the room was still, the only sound being the faint hum of the ceiling fan. After confirming there were no hidden conditions, he exhaled slightly, nodded, and spoke—

"Uncle, give me your account number."

Harjeet tore a small piece of paper from his notepad, scribbled his bank details, and slid it across the wooden table. His thick gold ring gleamed under the light as he rested his hand on the table, watching Vihaan with curiosity.

Vihaan, without hesitation, pulled out his sleek black phone and dialed a number. His fingers moved with precision as he put the call on speaker.

The moment the call connected, a clear, authoritative voice echoed—

"City Bank of Chandigarh, Head Manager speaking. How can I assist you, sir?"

Harjeet Singh's eyebrows shot up. He instantly recognized the voice. His fingers instinctively tightened around his glass of lassi. "Head Manager? City Bank of Chandigarh?" A sudden unease crept into his chest.

Meanwhile, Vihaan remained unfazed.

"Mr. Sharma, transfer 2.5 crores to this account. Now."

A brief pause. Then, the manager's professional voice responded—

"Let me verify, sir... Yes, the transaction is complete!"

Harjeet Singh's grip on his glass loosened slightly, but his mind was racing. He had made countless business deals, but never had he seen a transaction this smooth—without cross-checks, delays, or formalities.

Who exactly was Vihaan?

His attire was ordinary—nothing flashy. His phone was expensive but not something out of reach for a middle-class businessman. But his influence... now, that was something unusual.

For the first time in years, Harjeet felt that he had underestimated someone.

But there was no turning back now. The deal was done.

The Announcement

After both Vihaan and Harjeet signed the contract, Harjeet called for the restaurant staff. The kitchen doors swung open, and workers in crisp white uniforms walked out. The waiters, cashiers, and cleaning staff gathered in the dining area, confusion etched on their faces.

Harjeet cleared his throat and, in his signature Punjabi style, announced—

"From today onwards, 'Eat Delicious' has a new owner—Mr. Vihaan!"

For a moment, there was silence. Then, murmurs spread through the crowd.

The chefs exchanged glances, the waiters whispered among themselves, and the security guard—who had judged Vihaan earlier—turned pale.

Some staff members hesitated before finally clapping. Others, unsure of how to react, forced a smile. But one person remained frozen—Shreya, the restaurant manager.

She blinked twice, trying to process the words. Vihaan? The same guy who walked in looking like an ordinary customer? He owns the restaurant now?

Meanwhile, the security guard, Ramesh, was sweating. He gulped, recalling how he had dismissed Vihaan rudely just a few hours ago.

Vihaan observed the room, his sharp gaze sweeping over each face. Then, in a composed yet firm tone, he said—

"I don't care what anyone thinks of me. But let me make one thing clear—if even a word about my real identity is spoken outside, the person responsible will be fired immediately."

The air grew heavy. Some employees shuffled uncomfortably, while others nodded quickly in agreement.

Without saying anything further, Vihaan turned and walked out of the restaurant, his polished shoes clicking softly against the tiled floor.

Aftermath

As soon as Vihaan left, a shift in energy rippled through the restaurant. The excitement of a new owner quickly turned into unease.

Shreya was the first to break the silence—"I don't know what kind of boss he'll be… Will he be strict or understanding?"

Rohit, the senior waiter, sighed. "The real question is—will he treat us like Harjeet sir did?"

Ramesh, the security guard, muttered in fear, "I just hope he doesn't fire me for how I treated him earlier!"

Their whispers did not go unnoticed by Harjeet Singh. He took a sip of his lassi and, in his usual carefree Punjabi style, reassured them—

"Oh, puttar, don't stress! Vihaan is a good man. But if you ever face any trouble, you can always come work at my other hotel!"

The staff exhaled in relief, but Harjeet's mind was restless. Something about Vihaan didn't sit right with him.

He leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingers against the wooden table, deep in thought. "This boy is too sharp… The manager of the biggest bank listens to him, but why? Something isn't adding up. I need to dig deeper."

Without hesitation, he pulled out his phone and dialed a number.

"Hello. I have a special job for you. Find out everything about a boy named Vihaan Kumar. His background, his family, and most importantly—where is he getting all this money from?"

A crisp reply came from the other end—"Consider it done, sir."

Harjeet ended the call. His fingers drummed against the table, his eyes now filled with suspicion and intrigue.

[Phone Conversation – Harjeet Singh & His Private Detective]

Harjeet Singh (picking up the phone): "Yes, tell me, my friend. What did you find out about that boy?"

Detective: "Sir, I looked into his records, and something strange came up. That boy… he seems completely normal."

Harjeet: "What do you mean?"

Detective: "He's just a regular college student. He attends classes during the day and works at a small tea stall in the evening. He's an orphan—no family, no wealthy background."

Harjeet (stunned): "WHAT?! Are you telling me that a tea seller was commanding the head manager of Chandigarh's biggest bank?"

Detective: "Yes, sir. That's what I found. According to the data, he has no financial power, no business empire… nothing."

Harjeet (exhaling, deep in thought): "This boy… he's hiding something. Fooling my detective is no ordinary feat."

The call ended, but Harjeet's curiosity had only deepened. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, and whispered to himself—

"Vihaan Kumar… I will find out who you really are."