Vikram sat in his dimly lit room, a glass of alcohol in his hand, his gaze fixed on the amber liquid swirling within. He was deep in thought.This particular mansion was one of many he owned, but it was special- hidden away from prying eyes, and close to the dungeon where the Singhanias were held captive.

As Vikram lifted the glass to his lips, about to savor the burning comfort of the alcohol, he was interrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching. His brows furrowed in irritation. He wasn't expecting anyone. His grip tightened around the glass, his muscles tensing as he prepared for an unwelcome encounter. When the door creaked open, his eyes narrowed, and his gaze snapped to the figure entering the room.