The club was alive in a way most places weren't.
Lights moved like shifting shadows across polished floors, music pulsed low beneath conversations, and everything—from the drinks to the people—felt carefully curated. Nothing here was accidental.
Especially not him.
Veer Khanna sat at the far end of the private section, one hand resting lazily against the table while the other moved a deck of cards with effortless precision. His expression remained calm, almost indifferent, but there was a sharpness in his eyes that missed nothing.
Across from him, two men shifted uncomfortably.
"You're distracted," Veer said without looking up.
One of them stiffened. "No, sir—"
Veer placed a card down.
"You lost three rounds in a row," he continued, his tone even. "Either you've forgotten how to play… or something else is on your mind."
Silence followed.
The music faded into the background, replaced by the quiet tension settling over the table.
The second man cleared his throat. "There's… a situation."
That got Veer's attention.
He looked up slowly, his gaze settling on them with a weight that made words harder to form.
"What kind of situation?"
"A man—regular gambler. Been losing heavily for months. He couldn't pay."
Veer leaned back slightly, his expression unreadable. "And?"
The first man hesitated, then spoke quickly, "He gave up someone instead."
Something in the air shifted.
Veer didn't react immediately. His fingers stilled against the cards, his gaze lowering for a brief moment as if processing the information—not emotionally, but strategically.
"Who?" he asked.
"A girl," the second man replied. "Lives with him. Not his real daughter, apparently. But… close enough."
Veer's jaw tightened just slightly—barely noticeable, but enough to change the atmosphere.
"And you took her."
It wasn't a question.
"Yes."
A pause.
"Where is she now?"
"In one of the holding places. Temporary."
Veer stood up slowly, the movement deliberate, controlled. The men straightened instantly, tension rising as he walked past them.
"Do you know why I don't tolerate unnecessary complications?" he asked, his voice calm but sharper now.
Neither of them answered.
"Because complications turn into problems," Veer continued. "And problems draw attention."
He stopped, turning just enough to look at them.
"And I don't like attention."
"Yes, sir," one of them said quickly.
Another silence followed—but this one felt heavier.
Veer exhaled quietly, as if making a decision.
"Bring me everything you have on her," he said.
The men exchanged a quick glance.
"And the girl?" one of them asked carefully.
Veer's expression didn't change.
"For now," he said, his voice low and measured, "she stays where she is."
A brief pause.
Then—
"I'll decide what to do with her."
The words were simple.
But final.
As Veer walked away, the energy of the room seemed to shift again, people moving aside without realizing why, conversations lowering instinctively.
Control didn't need to be announced.
It was felt.
And somewhere, without knowing it yet—
Aarohi's fate had just landed in his hands.