Mumbai.

11:47 PM.

Mehra Mansion ke bahar baarish itni tez thi ki road lights bhi dhundhli dikh rahi thi.

Lekin mansion ke andar...sab kuch unnaturally silent tha.

Zoya Mehra apne study room mein laptop ke saamne baithi thi.

Black blazer, messy hair aur haath mein coffee ka mug.

Screen par ek confidential file open thi.

MEHRA HOLDINGS — PROJECT V-17

Zoya ne file ka last page open kiya.

Uski aankhein suddenly narrow ho gayin.

“Impossible…”

File mein ek purani photograph attached thi.

Photograph mein uske father the.

Aur unke saath...

Arhaan Khanna.

Zoya ne photograph ko zoom kiya.

“Arhaan yahan kya kar raha tha?”

Uske father ki death ko chaar saal ho chuke the.

Aur Arhaan tab sirf twenty-one ka tha.

Zoya ne turant phone uthaya.

“Kiara.”

Do rings ke baad sleepy voice aayi.

“Zoya... agar tumne mujhe iss time phone karke bola ki tumhe coffee chahiye, toh main—”

“Shut up. Mujhe ek photo mili hai.”

“Raat ke baarah baje?”

“Kiara.”

“Okay, serious voice. Bol.”

Zoya ne photograph ki copy bhej di.

Do seconds ki silence.

Phir Kiara boli,

“Umm... handsome toh hai.”

Zoya blinked.

“WHAT?”

“Main keh rahi hoon photograph suspicious hai.”

“Tumne handsome pe focus kiya?”

“Priorities, Zoya.”

Zoya ne eyes roll ki.

“Forget it.”

“Wait!”

Kiara ki voice suddenly serious ho gayi.

“Ye photo tumhe mili kahan?”

“Dad ki old files mein.”

“Zoya... woh files toh tumhare father ki death ke baad seal kar di gayi thi.”

“I know.”

Silence.

Phir Kiara ne dheere se kaha,

“Maybe kisi ne intentionally tumhe ye dikhayi hai.”

Zoya ka expression change ho gaya.

“Exactly what I was thinking.”

Tabhi...

THUD.

Study room ke bahar se awaaz aayi.

Zoya immediately khadi ho gayi.

“Kiara, I'll call you back.”

“Zoya, don't—”

Call cut.

Zoya ne drawer se ek small flashlight nikali aur door khola.

Corridor empty tha.

“Hello?”

No answer.

Phir uski nazar floor par gayi.

Ek black envelope.

Zoya dheere se uske paas gayi.

Envelope par uska naam likha tha.

ZOYA MEHRA.

Usne envelope khola.

Andar sirf ek paper tha.

Us par likha tha—

«“If you want the truth about your father, stay away from Arhaan Khanna.”»

Zoya ka heartbeat suddenly fast ho gaya.

Usne paper dobara padha.

Then she laughed.

“Too late.”

Because exactly at that moment...mansion ke gate ke bahar ek black Mercedes ruk chuki thi.

Driver's door open hua.

Aur baarish ke beech ek tall figure car se bahar nikla.

Black shirt.

Black coat.

Calm expression.

Arhaan Khanna.

12:03 AM

Zoya living room mein aayi.

Arhaan already wahan khada tha.

Uski eyes directly Zoya par locked thi.

Zoya folded arms ke saath uske saamne ruk gayi.

“Tum.”

Arhaan ne calmly kaha,

“Good evening, Ms. Mehra.”

“It's midnight.”

“I noticed.”

“Then why are you here?”

Arhaan ne pocket se ek file nikali.

“Because this belongs to you.”

Zoya ne file li.

Cover par likha tha—

PROJECT V-17.

Zoya ki eyes widen ho gayin.

“Where did you get this?”

Arhaan didn't answer.

“Arhaan.”

Still silence.

Zoya stepped closer.

“Tum mere father ke case ke baare mein kya jaante ho?”

For the first time...

Arhaan's expression changed.

Very slightly.

“Enough to tell you that you shouldn't trust everyone around you.”

Zoya scoffed.

“Interesting advice coming from the man whose name is literally in my father's old photograph.”

Arhaan froze.

“Which photograph?”

Zoya smiled coldly.

“Ah.”

She lifted the photograph.

“So you DO know about it.”

Arhaan stared at her.

Zoya took one step closer.

“Now answer me.”

Arhaan lowered his voice.

“Your father wasn't killed because of business.”

Zoya's smile disappeared.

“Then why?”

Before Arhaan could answer—

BANG!

A gunshot echoed from outside.

Zoya flinched.

Arhaan instantly grabbed her hand and pulled her behind the wall.

“Stay here.”

Zoya whispered,

“Who shot?”

“Don't know.”

“Then how do you know they're coming for me?”

Arhaan looked at her.

“Because the bullet wasn't meant for the window.”

He pointed toward the floor.

A second envelope had fallen through the broken glass.

Zoya slowly picked it up.

Inside was another photograph.

This time...it was a photograph of Zoya and Arhaan together.

Taken only a few hours earlier.

At the gala.

On the back were four words:

“THE NEXT TARGET IS HER.”

Zoya looked at Arhaan.

Arhaan looked at Zoya.

For the first time that night...

neither of them had an answer.

And somewhere across the road, inside a parked black car...

someone watched them through binoculars.

A phone rang.

The unknown man answered.

“Are they together?”

A cold voice came through the phone.

“Yes.”

A pause.

Then—

“Good. Let them fall in love.”

The call ended.

And the real game began.