Athavan was descending the apartment staircase when his phone rang. He answered immediately upon seeing the caller ID.
"Sir, I'm here," Ragavan's voice came through.
"Good," Athavan replied, his tone neutral.
As he approached the north gate, instead of the usual brown Bentley, something else awaited him—a pink BMW X5. Athavan already knew the car had been delivered, but seeing it in person still made him smirk.
Ragavan, sitting in the driver's seat, looked mortified. His usual composure was nowhere to be seen. With great reluctance, he stepped out and opened the door for Athavan, his movements stiff with embarrassment.
Athavan got into the car, eyeing Ragavan's discomfort. A chuckle escaped him.
"Why is your face so pink? Did you turn into a pink iguana to camouflage yourself since you're driving a pink car?"
Ragavan groaned. "Sir, please don't make fun of me!"
Athavan smirked, then his expression turned sharp. "Let's get to the point. Why did you want to see me in person and deliver the car yourself?"
Ragavan's demeanor shifted immediately. "Drona Singh and I concluded our investigation on Raja Sekaran and his dealings with your in-laws. We uncovered some shocking truths. I thought it was best to report them to you face-to-face, sir."
Athavan's gaze sharpened. "Go on."
Ragavan took a deep breath. "We already know Raja Sekaran was the reason Vasanthan's company collapsed. But now, we've found far worse. Fifteen years ago, Raja Sekaran joined Vasanthan's company as an assistant. At first, he seemed loyal, but behind the scenes, he was selling trade secrets to competitors."
Athavan's fingers tapped lightly on the armrest as he listened.
"When the company collapsed and Vasanthan was at his lowest, Raja Sekaran didn't support him. He encouraged his downfall—he fueled his drinking habits, pushed him further into isolation. But that's not all. He also orchestrated a slow poisoning process through tailored 'supplements'—the same ones that eventually caused his heart blockage."
The air in the car grew heavier, but Athavan's expression remained unreadable.
"This is the most shocking part," Ragavan continued. "Raja Sekaran took out a $10 million premium life insurance policy on Vasanthan years ago, naming himself as the sole beneficiary. It was a long-term plan. Now he's colluding with Vasanthan's surgeon and insurance agent to kill him during the bypass surgery scheduled next month."
Athavan's grip tightened slightly on the armrest.
"He's also the reason for Vasanthan's destroyed reputation. He spread word in the industry that he was a raging alcoholic. No company dared to offer him a second chance."
A cold silence filled the car. Then Athavan asked, "And her education funds?"
Ragavan nodded grimly. "Yes, sir. A man named Mohan in the university finance department—he was a broker for that human trafficking NGO. Raja Sekaran personally applied for Dhiviya's scholarship without her knowledge. When you dismantled the NGO, she was freed from their influence. Ironically, that helped him too. If they had taken her, she would have become a pawn in their control. There's another dealing between Mohan and Raja Sekaran."
Athavan's tone turned icy. "What dealing?"
"Mohan is now working to ensure that Guna fails his exams. One of Guna's lecturers has been bribed to fail him purposely. Raja Sekaran doesn't want Guna to complete his degree."
Ragavan's voice held confusion. "But why? Why sabotage his own brother and his family?"
"Stepbrother," Athavan corrected, voice cold. "That's why. To Raja Sekaran, Vasanthan and his family are nothing more than a money-making farm."
Ragavan continued, "We've also uncovered a full list of his other criminal activities. He's deeply involved in money laundering. Raja Sekaran is a high-value asset for Gang Nagas."
Athavan leaned back, thoughts racing as the pieces clicked together. This wasn't just control—it was domination. Raja Sekaran's endgame was complete ownership over Vasanthan's family. His crimes, his betrayal, his connections to the underworld—none of it surprised Athavan. A man who could slowly poison a friend-turned-brother wouldn't flinch at laundering dirty money.
"From what you've said, I can already conclude many things," Athavan muttered. His eyes gleamed with quiet certainty. The game had changed. It wasn't just about uncovering Raja Sekaran anymore—it was about dismantling him.
He shifted gears. "Did you get this car ready according to my specifications?"
Ragavan straightened instantly. "Yes, sir. It's upgraded to military standards. Bulletproof body and windshield, high-performance engine, latest GPS tracking, AI-integrated smart system, and advanced autopilot mode. It meets DLA's full spec."
Athavan nodded, satisfied, as the car approached the Blue Valley Architect Office.
"Arrange a private family dinner at JH Merlin Hotel tonight at 8 p.m. I want every chess piece related to Raja Sekaran and his family there by 9 p.m. I'll explain the plan to Mathew later. Okay, now you can get down. I'll take over from here."
Ragavan blinked. "Sir, you mean… I get down here?"
Athavan gave him a flat look. "What, do you expect me to fetch my wife with you sitting beside me? Or should I drop you off at daycare?"
Ragavan coughed, laughing awkwardly. "Oh no, no sir!" He got out swiftly and rushed to the roadside.
Athavan took the wheel and dialed Dhiviya's number.
At the Coffee Shop
Dhiviya, Punitha, Shankar, Sanjana, and Sanjay were gathered at a coffee shop near their office, deep in discussion about the tender submission.
Dhiviya's phone rang. She hesitated. Regret still lingered from asking Athavan for money. She wasn't sure how to face him.
The call disconnected before she picked up.
From across the street, Athavan had already spotted her. He parked the car, stepped out, and walked into the café.
The entire group froze. Shocked. Speechless.
He stood out like a misplaced sage in a modern world.
Draped in a crisp black dhoti and a simple yet elegant kurta, Athavan looked nothing like the café's usual crowd. The warm scent of coffee and pastries clashed with the faint trace of sandalwood that lingered around him. Conversations faltered, a few heads turned. Even the barista hesitated, as if unsure whether to take his order or bow.
And yet, he walked in unfazed—like he belonged anywhere he chose to be.
Dhiviya looked away, guilt coloring her features. "What are you doing here?"
"I'm here to fetch you," Athavan said casually.
"We're discussing the tender submission... the one I mentioned earlier," she said, still a bit unsure.
He gave her a warm look. "You all carry on. I can wait."
Shankar cleared his throat. "Actually, we were talking about preparing our individual tender submission alongside the company's. The challenge is, we can't use company resources or time. We need a separate space to work."
"And materials," Punitha added. "We don't even have the tools."
Athavan listened for a moment as they went in circles, then interrupted.
"Why don't you rent the office space upstairs? Once you finish work, you can just walk up and get started. Saves travel time, too."
The group looked at each other, confused.
"There's a banner outside. Fully furnished office space for rent. I noticed it when I parked. And if your proposal wins, you'll need a real workspace anyway. Better to lock it in now."
Sanjana laughed bitterly. "Bro, if we had that kind of money, we wouldn't be working here."
Everyone went silent, staring at the table.
Athavan casually asked, "How much would it cost?"
The End.