The smell of petrol and stale rain permeated the night as Manish huddled behind a trash can. He was twelve years old—wet clothes, cold feet, and an empty stomach. From there, he could clearly see the large mansion that dominated the entire street: high iron grilles, white garden lights, and windows so bright they seemed to belong to another world.

Suddenly, he saw something that froze his blood.

Three men in black cloaks broke through the side grille and entered—torches in their hands, their movements as swift as shadows.

“Hurry up,” one whispered. “Madam said—everything must be ready before eight o’clock.”

“Madam…” Manish gulped.
One man had a box of tools, another a roll of yellow tape.

They didn’t look like thieves.

They looked like people who knew exactly what they were doing. The boy clung to the garage wall, holding his breath.

“And the alarm system?” the other asked.

“It’s been deactivated. Madam paid a lot of money. As soon as he comes in, turn on the lights… and everything will be blown away. It will seem like an accident. We’ll be far away by then.”

“Accident.” The word struck him like a hammer.

The air carried a sweet, heavy smell. It wasn’t petrol. It was gas.

Manish didn’t understand valves or systems, but he was well versed in the danger.

The roads had taught him a lot very quickly.

He could have kept quiet and moved on—as if he hadn’t heard anything.

Or… he could have done something.

Fear told him to hide.

But something deeper—perhaps his mother’s old voice, “Don’t be a coward”—forced him to run.

He jumped into the rain, splashes pounding on his ankles, and only one sentence lingered in his mind:

“Don’t let him go into the house. If he does, something terrible will happen.”

In the distance, he saw a black car approaching the mansion.
Bright headlights, darkened windows, and a majesty that stood out from the night.

Manish jumped in front of the car and pounded the hood with both hands.

“Stop! Please stop!”

The driver slammed on the brakes, got out angrily, and grabbed his hand.

“Do you want to die, boy?”

The back door opened.

A man in a dark suit, with a calm face and a shiny watch, peeked out.

Manish recognized him—he was on posters, advertisements, and newspapers.

Aarav Kapoor, the millionaire the whole town talked about.

“What’s going on?” he asked coldly.

Manish was trembling, but didn’t turn back.

“Don’t go home, sir… please. There are some men in the garage. Your… your girlfriend gave them money. They were talking about gas, valves… everything. They were saying they would kill you in an ‘accident.’”

The driver let out a snort of laughter.

“Sir, he’s a street kid. He’ll say anything to get attention.”

Aarav looked him up and down—wet clothes, dirty face, and eyes more serious than his age.

“How do you know who I am?”

“Everyone knows…” Manish stammered.

“But if you go in… it will be very bad.”

A heavy silence lasted for a few seconds.

Then Aarav said in a tired voice: “Get him out of here.”

“No! Please, sir!”

Manish yelled, trying to break free.
“I’m telling the truth! Don’t go!”

The car moved forward.
The gate closed.
The sound hit him squarely in the chest.

Manish fell to his knees in the mud.

“I… I’ve done all I could,” he thought.

In the mansion, Aarav smelled a strange smell as he took off his coat—sweet, unnatural.

He headed for the garage.

As he turned on the switch, a faint spark leaped into the air.

Aarav shuddered.

Something was wrong.

He called the maintenance head, who, after examining the valves, said:

“Sir… this isn’t a normal leak. They’ve been deliberately left loose. If a spark had occurred…”

Aarav’s face froze.

And then, a child’s voice echoed in his mind:

“Don’t go, sir…”

He couldn’t sleep that night.

And he didn’t know that the truth wasn’t just going to save his life—

it was going to shake the very foundation of his life…

Aarav closed the door to his study with ragged breaths. In every corner of the mansion, in every chatter, he could hear the same thing—

“Your girlfriend has set a trap…”

He couldn’t believe it.

Riya?

The same girl whose smile he used to give up his company deals for?

The one for whom he had built an entire wing in his house?

He picked up his mobile, but stopped when he saw her name on the screen.

He hung up.

A few minutes later, in the security room, he demanded to see the footage.

The guard stammered, “Sir… the cameras… have been offline for two hours.”

Two hours.

The exact time Manish had seen everything.

Aarav felt a snap inside him—fine and sharp, like glass.

He didn’t call the police immediately.

He wanted the truth first.

Not from anyone else—from Riya.

Looking straight into her eyes.

He was just heading towards her room to find her when suddenly—

ring.

A message came on his phone.

From an unknown number.

“I heard you’re still alive.

Sorry… but the game has just begun.”

Aarav almost dropped the phone from his hand.

Alive?
The game?

He took a deep breath and quickly climbed the stairs.

As he reached the door to Riya’s room—

A faint voice came from inside.

A whisper.

And… a sound like dragging.

Aarav gently pressed the handle.

The room was plunged into darkness—only the yellow ball of a night lamp touched the walls.

And there…
on the floor…
Riya wasn’t sitting—she was lying there.

Her face was covered in bruises, her breathing was labored, and her clothes were streaked with dust.

“Riya!”

Aarav leaned in closer.

Riya held his hand, trembling.

“Aarav… you… are you okay?” Her voice was breaking.

“What’s happening? Who did all this? Why does he want to kill me?”

There was fear in Riya’s eyes—deep, real.

“Aarav…”
She said with the last bit of strength in her throat, “I didn’t do this…”

Aarav’s heart skipped a beat.

“So who?” he asked, almost in a whisper.

Riya’s eyes widened—
as if a terrifying shadow stood behind her.

And she moved her lips:

“Your… your own men…”

The next moment, the sound of someone’s rapid footsteps echoed on the veranda outside.

Heavy, measured, just like—

professional killers walk.

Aarav supported Riya.

“Someone’s inside,” he whispered.

The footsteps stopped.

And then—

Click.

Someone loaded a gun right outside the door.

Aarav felt the first fear in his entire life, a fear that seeped deep into his bones.

But at that very moment, he also remembered—

Once, someone had screamed on the street to save his life…

Now he wouldn’t let anyone die.

“Riya, get up—we have to leave now,” Aarav said.

Riya groaned in pain, regaining her composure.

But then—

The door slowly began to open…

And the face that appeared before him—

was one that made Aarav’s blood freeze.

Because he wasn’t a stranger.

He was—

his most trusted man.

The company’s Chief Security.

The one he had entrusted his life to.

And there was only one thing in his eyes at that moment—

Aarav Kapoor’s death.