Chapter 3: Gathering Storms

2 1 0
                                        


The envelope arrived at two different doors.

And carried the same weight.

Sharma residence

Vedansh picked it up first, flipping it open with quiet curiosity.

"A private event," he said.

Avanthika barely looked up. "Another business party?"

"Not exactly," he replied.

Dinesh took the card from him, reading it once.

Then again.

"Hosted by the Chauhans."

That got Avanthika's attention—slightly.

"Selective guest list?" she asked.

Vedansh nodded. "Very."

A pause.

Avanthika leaned back. "So we go, make polite conversations, and pretend we like people we don't?"

Dinesh gave her a brief look.

"We go," he said, "because rooms like this decide things before they're announced."

Avanthika shrugged lightly. "As long as it doesn't turn into a political lecture."

Vedansh smirked.

Dinesh didn't.

"Be ready," he said. "This won't be casual."

Rathore mansion

The same envelope lay on the table.

Nishanth picked it up, scanning quickly. "Chauhans."

Vijay's eyes lifted from the paper. "That's unusual."

Pratap Singh Rathore took the card calmly.

"They don't host without intention," Vijay added.

"Then we understand the intention," Nishanth said.

A pause.

Pratap placed the invitation down.

"We will attend."

No discussion.No hesitation.

Because when power invited—

you didn't decline.

_______________________________________________________

The new site was still warm.

Not from fire—

but from attention.

Rithika stepped in before the chatter could reach her.

"Clear the unnecessary crowd," she said.

Within seconds, the space opened.

Better.

"Timeline," she demanded.

"Fire started around 2:10 AM," an officer replied. "Contained within thirty minutes."

"Too fast," she murmured.

"Ma'am?"

She didn't answer.

Instead, she moved straight to the origin point.

Her eyes scanned—not the damage but what remained.

That's where mistakes lived.

She crouched.

Ash.

Debris.

Flames of the pastWhere stories live. Discover now