Aditay Verma

The grand hall was bustling with activity—businessmen exchanging deals, friends sharing stories, and rivals watching cautiously. The room was alive with chatter, but suddenly, a heavy silence fell.

The massive wooden door at the entrance swung open with a slow, deliberate creak. All eyes turned as a tall, imposing figure stepped inside. His presence commanded attention—the air seemed to shift around him.

He was dressed sharply in a tailored black suit, the collar slightly turned up, a hint of a stern expression on his face. His eyes, sharp and calculating, scanned the room with an intensity that made everyone feel both intrigued and wary.

He moved with purpose, each step purposeful and confident. The grumpy demeanor was evident in his slight frown and the way he carried himself—like a king entering his domain. His posture radiated authority. The room seemed to pause as all the conversations hushed in respect, recognizing the man who had entered: Aditay Verma.

Some whispers traveled among the crowd—"That’s Aditay Verma, the man everyone fears and respects." His reputation as both a powerful mafia boss and a visionary CEO preceded him.

He paused for a moment at the center of the hall, then with a subtle nod, acknowledged the room. No words were needed—his mere presence spoke volumes.

This was Aditay Verma: a man of contrasts—rude yet protective, ruthless yet loving—whose entrance was as commanding as his reputation.

As Aditay Verma took his place at the center of the hall, a hush fell over the crowd. The air was thick with anticipation. He surveyed the room once more, his piercing gaze locking onto a nervous businessman near the front.

"Well," Aditay's deep voice broke the silence, each word deliberate and commanding, "I don’t like waiting. Get to the point."

A murmur rippled through the crowd—everyone knew this was his way of cutting right to the heart of matters. No nonsense, no fluff.

The businessman cleared his throat, trying to steady his trembling hands. "Sir, the deal is nearly finalized. The shipment will arrive by the end of the week."

Aditay’s eyes narrowed slightly. "Good. Make sure it’s without any delays. I don’t like surprises."

He turned his gaze to a nearby associate, giving a subtle nod. The associate responded instantly, stepping forward. "Sir, there's a report about the rival gang trying to encroach on our territory."

A faint smirk played on Aditay’s lips, a mixture of amusement and warning. "Let them try. We’ll remind them who owns this city."

He paused, then continued, voice lower now, almost a whisper. "Remember, loyalty is everything. Betray me, and you'll regret it for the rest of your life."

The room seemed to hang on his every word. His reputation for ruthlessness was legendary, but beneath that tough exterior was a man who valued strength, loyalty, and power.

He straightened up, fixing his tie, and nodded. "Now, let’s get back to business. I have no patience for delays or fools."

With that, Aditay Verma turned on his heel and strode out of the hall, leaving a trail of respect and a little fear in his wake.

As Aditay turned back toward the center of the hall, the warmth from his mother’s voice faded like a dream at dawn. His ...eyes hardened once again—sharp, alert, and unyielding. That brief softness, the glimpse of the son beneath the kingpin, vanished like it had never existed. Now, only Aditay Verma, the name that made rivals lose sleep, remained in full command.

He motioned with two fingers, and his top lieutenant—Karan, a loyal enforcer with a scar running across his jaw—approached silently.

“Update me,” Aditay said without turning, eyes still fixed on the map projected on the wall showing their territories.

Karan spoke with precision. “The docks are secure. The warehouse shipment from the east has arrived. But…” he hesitated, “…Srushti’s team intercepted one of our smaller convoys last night near the Narayan Gate checkpoint.”

Aditay’s jaw clenched slightly.

“Srushti.”
The name alone stirred a storm of conflicting emotions.

“She’s testing limits,” Karan added, cautiously. “You want us to respond?”

There was a long pause. The entire room waited—watching, silent.

Then Aditay spoke, voice cool and composed.
“No. Not yet. Let her think she has the upper hand.”
His eyes narrowed slightly, a trace of something unreadable flickering within them.
“When the moment’s right, we won’t just respond. We’ll remind her who controls the game.”

He turned to Karan.
“But if she steps beyond Narayan Gate—end it. No warnings.”

“Yes, sir.”

Just then, the main doors creaked open again—and in walked Raghav Verma, his uncle. The younger brother of Vikram, Raghav was bold, brash, and battle-scarred. He had no time for politics and even less for patience.

“You’re letting her play?” Raghav barked, walking up to Aditya. “In our city?”

Aditya didn’t flinch. “She’s smart. She won’t cross that line.”

“And if she does?”

Aditya’s eyes turned cold. “Then I’ll make sure she regrets it.”

There was a beat of silence between the two—tension laced with unspoken history. But Raghav eventually grinned, clapped a hand on Aditya’s shoulder, and said, “You’ve got your father’s fire. Just don’t let it burn you.”

Aditya didn’t smile. “I never do.”

He turned away from them both, facing the room again. His presence seemed even heavier now. Every man there stood a little straighter.

“Enough talk. Get back to work. We’ve got a city to hold.”

As the lieutenants dispersed to carry out orders, one name lingered in Aditay Verma’s mind—Srushti.

He pulled a cigar from his inside pocket, lit it with a flick of his silver lighter, and exhaled slowly.

Whatever game she was playing…
He was ready.