Late into the cold, restless night in New Delhi…
Beneath the faint glow of antique chandeliers, the Maurya family mansion was wrapped in heavy silence. In the grand hall, every member of the Maurya bloodline sat in anticipation, backs straight, lips sealed, as if the very air they breathed could influence the outcome of the mission unfolding elsewhere.
At the center of the hall, seated on a polished sandalwood throne, was the patriarch, Keshav Maurya. His expression was grim, eyes flickering with the dance of candlelight. Beside him sat his two children—Sanvi Maurya, youthful and brimming with volatile ambition, and Dole Maurya, calm yet cold as steel.
"They should have done it by now!" Sanvi burst out, breaking the heavy silence. Her voice, though laced with frustration, echoed like a whisper of poison through the marble-floored chamber. "What are they doing? How hard is it to kill one spoiled princess?"
