Unexpected Gift

Jai stepped into his room, the door clicking shut behind him. The weight of the day pressed on his shoulders, his mind cluttered with chaos from both the business world and the underworld he secretly ruled. Without wasting a moment, he headed straight for the washroom. The cold water splashed across his face felt like a momentary escape, but only just.

When he emerged, refreshed but still lost in thought, the sharp trill of his phone broke the silence. He glanced at the screen. "Prashant Bhai," the caller ID read. A faint smile touched Jai's lips.

Prashant was not just his cousin—he was the son of Jai's elder uncle and two years older than him. But in truth, their bond went beyond blood. Prashant had lost both his parents—his mother in childhood, and his father a few years later to cancer. It was Jai's mother, Meera Ji, who had taken him in and raised him like her own. For Jai, Prashant was more than family; he was an elder brother, a protector, and a partner in crime—literally.

Unlike Jai, who balanced the family business and their hidden empire in the shadows, Prashant had no interest in the family's traditional empire. He had built his own identity—CEO of Rathore Security Firm, a top-tier private protection service known across the country. But what the world didn't know was that the security firm was merely a front.

Beneath that mask, Prashant and Jai were co-leaders of a powerful mafia syndicate—an empire passed down through generations. Only a handful knew the truth: Jai's grandfather Manav, his father, and a trusted assistant who himself was a former mafia man.

Prashant had inherited the mafia legacy from his father. Technically, the throne should've gone to Jai's father after his brother passed, but he had always despised violence. A peaceful, aristocratic man, he had chosen to stay away from bloodshed. So, the mantle passed to Prashant—and Jai joined him by choice, loyalty, and a thirst for control.

Though they were cousins born of different mothers, they shared a bond stronger than most siblings. If anything, Prashant was even more hardened than Jai—ruthless when needed, always three steps ahead.

Jai answered the call, leaning casually against the window as he said, "Hello, Bhai."

A familiar, deep voice greeted him. "I've caught those smugglers—the ones who tried to run with our shipment. They're hiding in the old villa. Handle them."

Jai's brows furrowed. "Got it. I'll take care of it. But… it's been a while, Bhai. When are you coming home? And where are you right now?"

There was a pause before Prashant replied in a firm tone, "When the time's right, I'll meet you. For now, I'm at the Grand Hotel for a meeting. We'll talk later."

Without waiting for a response, the call ended.

Jai stared at the silent phone for a moment, a part of him uneasy with how distant Prashant sounded. Still, he trusted him more than anyone. If he said he was busy, then it had to be something important.

---

Meanwhile, Prashant stepped out of the elevator and walked down the plush hallway of the Grand Hotel. His strides were confident, purposeful. The dim lights cast long shadows on the marbled floor, and his mind was already focused on the negotiations ahead. But as he passed by the open balcony area, something made him stop.

There, standing alone under the soft silver light of the moon, was a girl.

She wore a stunning black gown with a high slit that revealed her fair, elegant legs. But it wasn't her dress that caught his attention. It was her face—serene, almost ethereal. There was an unusual calm on her features, like she didn't belong to this chaotic world. Her minimal makeup enhanced her natural glow, and even in the pale moonlight, her beauty seemed to shimmer.

Prashant, a man known for his composure and focus, found himself… distracted. Something about her innocence tugged at something deep inside him—a place he thought had long turned to stone.

"Sir, this way. The meeting room is ready," a staff member gently prompted.

Prashant blinked, snapping out of his reverie. He cast one last glance at the girl before turning away, the image of her still vivid in his mind.

What he didn't know was that the girl was Pakhi—a well-known actress, and the elder sister of Vaani, Jai's recent acquaintance.

Pakhi had come to the hotel for her movie's promotion party. But the loud music, bright lights, and constant attention exhausted her. Unlike others in the industry, Pakhi was a quiet soul. She never truly fit into the world of glitz and glamour, yet her love for acting had brought her here.

With a juice in hand, she had retreated to the balcony, far away from the crowd. For her, peace was more valuable than popularity.

Despite being in the industry for years, Pakhi had no airs about her. Her upbringing in a respectable, influential family had grounded her. She was polite, uncompromising in her values, and fiercely independent. Many admired her not just for her talent but for the dignity with which she carried herself.

But every star has its shadows.

As she stood quietly, lost in thought, someone approached her—Tanya, a co-worker she'd never truly liked.

Tanya had initially been selected as the lead for the film, but last-minute changes led to Pakhi taking the role. Since then, Tanya had grown bitter, hiding her resentment behind fake smiles.

"Hey, Pakhi," Tanya said with exaggerated cheerfulness. "What are you doing out here all alone? And—oh! Your drink's finished? Let me get you another."

Pakhi smiled politely, though warily. "No, thank you. I'm fine. Just needed some air… it felt suffocating inside."

"Oh, nonsense," Tanya insisted, already signaling a waiter. "You'll feel better with a fresh drink."

Unbeknownst to Pakhi, Tanya had already planned this. The drink she ordered was laced—with just enough sedative to blur Pakhi's senses.

---

Back in his suite, Prashant had returned from the meeting. The tension of business discussions still lingered, but his thoughts repeatedly drifted back to that mysterious girl on the balcony. He couldn't explain it—her image haunted him, not in a disturbing way, but like an unanswered question.

As he stepped out of the washroom, refreshed and shirtless, his phone buzzed. A message blinked on the screen.

"Sending you a precious gift. Please accept it, Prashant."

He frowned.

Who could this be? What gift? There was no name, no number. The cryptic message made him uneasy.

Before he could respond, a soft knock sounded on his door.

Curious—and alert—he walked to the door and opened it.

His eyes widened.

Standing there, swaying slightly, was the same girl from the balcony—Pakhi.