Chapter 6: Arrival at Delhi

The letter arrived, but the world had already changed. I would not be led by the nose—not today.

“Sir! Sir! Something terrible has happened!”

The shrill cry echoed down the corridor, disturbing even the old watchman dozing by the gate.

A young attendant came running in, panic-stricken.

He stumbled, almost crashing into a priceless vase, sweat trickling down his forehead. Even the peons in the background exchanged anxious glances.

Rajeev frowned. The chief secretary snapped, “What’s all this commotion? Calm down!”

The secretary’s voice was sharp, the tone of a man used to being obeyed. But the attendant was too frightened to care.

The young attendant panted, “The… Commander of the Northern Frontier is here…”

He gulped, eyes wide with fear, as if he’d just seen a ghost in the Mughal gardens.

Rajeev looked up and laughed, “Hahahaha! I knew it! The Commander loves Ananya more than his own life. If I use her to threaten him, he’ll surely yield!”

His laughter was forced, brittle. Even the chandelier seemed to tremble. The chief secretary forced a smile, hiding his own terror.

The chief secretary flattered, “Sir, you are truly wise.”

He leaned in, voice oily with praise. Years of bureaucratic survival had taught him which side of the bread held the butter.

Rajeev took the chief secretary’s hand. “You have contributed much to this. Once I’ve dealt with the Commander, I’ll reward you handsomely.”

He squeezed the secretary’s hand with false warmth, already dreaming of future loyalty.

The chief secretary folded his hands in a quick namaste. “It is my duty to share your burdens. There’s no need for reward.”

One insisted on rewarding, the other insisted on refusing—the two exchanged endless emotional value.

Like characters in an endless Saas-Bahu serial, they circled each other, each playing their part with dramatic flair. The real business remained unfinished, the air thick with empty promises.

Rajeev, grinning, casually ordered the young attendant, “You there, take two guards and arrest the Commander. Throw him in the lockup.”

The command was so casual, it almost seemed like a joke. But the air in the room chilled, and the attendants shrank back, knowing the game had changed.

Would Delhi’s power games end in farce or blood?