Ayaan stood in the study, waiting for Sameer and the CSO. He had already set his plan in motion, one that would unfold during Suryadev’s campaign address in the home city. He would not allow Suryadev to succeed on his own ground.
Pacing the room impatiently, Ayaan checked his watch for the third time and nearly thirty minutes later Sameer and the CSO entered the study both wearing confident smiles.
“Sir, everything is done. The man we sent has been positioned close to the stage, exactly where you wanted for the execution to take place. I have spoken to the Commissioner and ensured the request came directly from you. He agreed without hesitation and approved the man to be disguised as one of the cops.” the CSO reported.
Ayaan nodded. “Did you speak to the event organizer? I want this plan executed at any cost.”
Sameer stepped forward. “Sir, you don’t have to worry. Everything is set. Your plan will be carried out flawlessly.”
Ayaan exhaled slowly, trusting both his strategy and the men capable of carrying it out.
“Alright. Let’s wait and watch the clown lose his mind. You may rest until further instructions” he said dismissing them.
But neither of them moved.
“Sir, what should we do about Brindha? Her family arrived this morning but we ensured they left quietly without any drama.” the CSO added carefully.
Ayaan rubbed his forehead, irritation flickered across his face. “I completely forgot about that bitch. Talk to Dad and let him decide. This involves Kajal aunty and Grandpa. I don’t want them hurt because of my decision.” he muttered and walked out of the study.
Ayaan headed straight to the nursery and stopped short at the sight before him. Rehan and Zavi stood gripping their push walker, wobbling slightly but determined.
“My prince and princess are growing up so fast,” Ayaan said softly.
As if on cue both Rehan and Zavi suddenly let go of the walker. For a split second Ayaan’s heart leapt into his throat. He rushed forward with his arms outstretched but the twins wobbled, giggled and managed two tiny steps on their own before tumbling straight into his arms.
Zara hurried over and lifted Rehan from Ayaan and rubbed his little back but Rehan only laughed and wriggled to get down again.
“Amma… amma… papa… papa,” he babbled, eager to continue playing.
Ayaan smiled widely at the sound of the word appa. The memory of the first time both Rehan and Zavi had called him appa during playtime flooded his mind.
“Appa… Appa,” Zavi called folding and unfolding her tiny fist, signaling him to follow her.
Ayaan followed as she pushed the walker forward with wobbly and determined steps. Beside them, Rehan let go of the walker and held on to Zara’s finger, walking slowly but confidently.
“Ayaan, look here,” Zara whispered.
Ayaan’s excitement knew no bounds as he watched his son take those precious steps while holding Zara’s hand. He gently stopped Zavi, drawing her attention to Rehan and then offered his finger to her.
Zavi instantly grasped it.
Hand in hand, the toddlers began walking around happily, giggling in delight.
Zara and Ayaan felt overwhelmed and scooped them both into their arms and showered them with kisses. Rehan and Zavi responded with their own clumsy kisses and wrapped their tiny arms around their amma and appa turning the moment into one the parents would treasure forever.
By evening Ayaan and the family gathered in the drawing room to watch the live telecast of Suryadev’s campaign in their home city. Ayaan looked unusually pleased and only Zara knew why.
As the broadcast began, the sky darkened and the crowd steadily filled the rows of chairs arranged before the temporary stage set up for Suryadev’s address. District heads and senior party members arrived early, taking their seats as they waited for his appearance.
Thirty minutes past the scheduled time Suryadev finally arrived, waving confidently at the cheering crowd. The state party head took the stage first and welcomed the gathering and offered lavish praise for Suryadev. He highlighted the welfare schemes Suryadev had introduced and spoke of his unwavering commitment to the people.
One by one, party members followed, boasting of their strength and openly attacking the opposition, accusing them of playing dirty politics to win the elections and claimed the people would never allow such tactics to succeed.
At last, the most awaited moment arrived and Suryadev was called to the stage.
He stepped forward with a confident smile and waved at the crowd, completely unaware that the night was about to turn against him.
Suryadev began his address with practiced passion and declared that he would sacrifice even his life for the people and the nation. He vowed never to let his people down, no matter the cost. He went on to announce new welfare schemes and promised swift execution once he won the elections.
“I trust my people with my heart,” he said and suddenly the stage plunged into darkness.
The power was cut only to the stage. A wave of screams rippled through the crowd.
Down near the front of the stage, just beside one of the main speaker stacks, a man in police uniform adjusted the collar mic hidden beneath his shirt. He had already synced his frequency to the stage audio line minutes earlier during the routine security checks.
“Idiots, what kind of useless arrangement is this? Who is responsible for this disaster? Is this how you manage a campaign? I trusted you people and this is what you deliver?”, from the speakers, Suryadev’s voice rang out angrier and sharper.
The crowd fell silent listening to the words.
“Even Vaishnavi’s own city is determined to pull me down. Bloody woman. Why can’t these women stay home and take care of their families? Instead, I have to endure all these filthy woman. And you people standing there like fools testing my patience when my fate itself is already doing so I swear, I’ll kill you all ” gasps rippled through the crowd as Suryadev’s voice snarled from the darkness.
At the backstage, a technician rushed toward the control panel and his fingers was flying over switches before hurrying up to the stage and he leaned towards Suryadev.
“Sir, there is another microphone live, the one you are not using. Someone is feeding audio into the system with that mic ” he whispered urgently but it was already too late.
The voice blasted through the speakers again, distorted slightly by feedback making it sound even more authentic.
“People are fools, they fall for emotional drama and hide behind a woman instead of facing me head-on ” it continued venomously.
“Cut the mic, that bastard is talking ” Suryadev screamed along with a few panicked aides.
But his words never reached the speakers.
Opposite the stage, near the towering speaker stack, the ventriloquist remained unseen.
Finally, the technician managed to kill the feed. Then came the eruption, murmurs turned into angry shouts, disbelief swelling into outrage as the lights flickered back on.
Suryadev stood frozen at the podium, drenched in sweat and stared out at a crowd that no longer looked at him with devotion but with rage.
Chairs were hurled toward the stage. Chaos threatened to break loose.
Police immediately moved in, forming barricades and cleared the crowd swiftly, preventing the situation from spiraling out of control.
Suryadev was rushed off the stage and shoved into his car at the rear entrance seething, shaking with fury and cursing Ayaan with every breath as the vehicle sped away.
The damage, however was already done.
At Rey’s manor, the atmosphere turned heavy with shock and fury.
“How dare that filthy bastard speak about my wife?” Reyansh seethed, his voice trembled with rage. He stormed out to the living room as though he would kill Suryadev the moment he laid eyes on him.
Vaishu rushed after him, trying to calm him but Reyansh had already dialed his PA and the head of the legal team, ordering them to report to the manor immediately.
Inside, Ishaan and Ayaan were already on separate calls with their PAs, issuing sharp instructions.
“Release a strong condemnation statement immediately. This is not just an insult to my mother, it’s an insult to every woman in this country.” Ayaan barked.
Within minutes, headlines began flashing across news channels, replaying Suryadev’s words on loop. Public outrage erupted nationwide. Social media exploded with condemnation, anger and calls for accountability.
The family gathered in the living room as Reyansh addressed the legal team with cold authority.
“I want a criminal defamation case filed for demeaning my wife and a public interest litigation for insulting and threatening the women of this country. I also want a petition filed to disqualify him from contesting the elections.” he ordered and the legal team nodded, already taking notes.
Sameer quickly arranged a camera. The room fell silent as Vaishu stepped forward, her expression calm but unyielding. The camera began recording and Vaishu looked straight into the lens and spoke, her voice steady yet firm.
“Tonight the country witnessed the exposure of a mindset that believes power gives the right to demean women. I will not respond with hatred or rage. I respond with resolve. Any man who believes women belong at home, silenced and submissive is unfit to lead a nation that thrives on equality. This fight is not for me alone, it is for every woman who refuses to bow to intimidation.” she said with determination.
Sameer cut the recording and silence followed but it was the kind that came after a storm had been unleashed.
Suryadev’s words had destroyed him. The reaction from the public and the Rey’s family response had sealed it. The fire ignited that night burned well into the morning.
Across the country, women poured onto the streets. Women’s welfare associations, activists, and citizens gathered in protest, burning Suryadev’s effigies and demanding accountability. His words echoed everywhere on television screens, on social media, in public debates fueling outrage that refused to die down.
Suryadev, who had flown back home immediately after the incident, locked himself inside his room and did not step out until morning.
When he finally emerged, he found his living room filled with supporters, party members, legal advisors and his PR team waited anxiously for him.
“Suryadev ji, things have gone completely out of control. We have no concrete proof that the incident was staged. The Rey family was the first to file a lawsuit against you and now cases are pouring in from across the country.” one of the senior legal advisors said carefully.
Suryadev’s eyes burned with fury. “Then issue a statement. Tell the people the truth that this was staged. They need to know.” he snapped and a heavy silence followed.
The room exchanged uneasy glances. Everyone knew it would change nothing. Still, no one dared to openly oppose him.
Reluctantly, the legal and PR teams moved forward, releasing statements claiming that Suryadev had been framed and that someone else had orchestrated the incident. Instead of sympathy, the response was brutal.
People mocked him. Memes went viral within hours, turning his justification into ridicule. Late-night comedy shows tore into him. News debates dismantled his claims piece by piece. What little credibility he had left crumbled rapidly.
By evening, Suryadev knew the truth. His political career was finished. The rage that consumed him now had a single target, Ayaan Rey and his family.
With shaking hands and a hardened heart, Suryadev placed a call to Nafel. He recounted everything, the blackout, the fallout, the lawsuits and the public humiliation.
“I’m certain I will lose the election. But I won’t go down with nothing. I need your help to bring down Ayaan Rey… or Vaishnavi Rey.” Suryadev said bitterly.
The war, Suryadev realized was no longer about winning power, it was about revenge.
On the other end of the line, silence stretched.
“I will think about it, Mr. Suryadev,” Nafel said curtly and end the call without another word.
Suryadev stared at the silent phone gritting his teeth. He couldn’t step out of his house. Protesters had surrounded the premises, their slogans ringing through the air, banners raised high, anger unrelenting. Security was tightened, barricades went up and still the crowd refused to disperse.
By afternoon, the legal blows began to land. Notices arrived one after another, summons from multiple courts, petitions filed across states and directives seeking his immediate response. Each envelope felt heavier than the last, a reminder that the walls were closing in.
Ayaan entered the room with his mobile pressed to his ear, still on a call with the legal team. Rehan and Zavi were jumping excitedly, holding onto the headboard. The moment they heard his voice, they plopped down on their little bums and began calling out, “Appa… appa “
Ayaan smiled and sat beside them. In seconds, both Rehan and Zavi climbed over him like tiny monkeys. Zara tried to pull them back but they only screamed louder, completely disrupting his call. Laughing softly she gave up and watched as Rehan reached out, determined to snatch Ayaan’s mobile.
Ayaan quickly ended the call and placed the mobile on the nightstand.
“No mobile, Rehan,” he warned playfully, before blowing raspberries on his son’s stomach.
The room filled with peals of laughter as Rehan and Zavi squealed with delight. Ayaan and Zara played with them until the little ones finally drifted off to sleep, curled up in contentment.
Once the room fell quiet, Ayaan pulled Zara back to sit between his legs and nuzzled into her neck. She hummed softly, tilting her head to give him better access.
“Is everything done?” Zara asked.
“Yes, I offered ten crores to the ventriloquist and placed him in our Italy office. I didn’t want him anywhere near this place. Even the commissioner knows nothing other than that he helped place a man on duty. He has no idea the man is a ventriloquist.” he replied and pressed a kiss to her nape.
Zara smiled, relieved and impressed. Everything had been executed flawlessly.
“You should reward your husband for his intelligence and excellent skills, wifey,” Ayaan murmured and tilting her head up, he captured her lips in a slow kiss.
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A/N:
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