Athavan pulled up in front of the mansion. The guards rushed forward and opened the gate with practiced ease.
"Appa," he said casually, "I forgot to mention—today's my father-in-law's birthday. You'll have to stay the night. Dhiviya's insisted on holding a small surprise party."
"He always refuses to celebrate… so he has no idea."
Kathirvan shook his head with a faint smile.
"Why didn't you tell me earlier? I could've brought a gift.
Do you have a spare car I can use? Mine's still parked at Sago Mall."
Athavan chuckled.
"It's fine. Guna will be back this afternoon. I'll ask him to take you out.
For now, just rest and relax."
As they entered the driveway, Vasanthan and Archana came out to greet him warmly.
It was Kathirvan's first visit since the wedding.
Athavan left them with a respectful smile and quietly slipped away in his car.
Meanwhile — Gang Garuda Headquarters
Chanda lounged on his blackened throne, carved from jagged wood and ruin. His stare was blank—yet buzzing with murder.
At his feet, the Gang Garuda leader knelt, forehead scraping the marble floor in a pathetic rhythm.
"My lord, please… forgive me," he stammered.
"I delivered your message exactly as instructed, but there's been no reply."
"They've ignored us completely."
Chanda's face twitched.
Then he kicked the man across the floor. A liquor glass shattered beside his head.
"Then what's he up to?"
"Did you at least find that out?"
The leader's voice was thin, shaking.
"His movements remain… untraceable.
Anyone we send to tail him—vanishes.
In the last two months… we've lost over fifty men."
He paused. Then added, almost fearfully:
"But today… we got something."
"His wife is preparing a private celebration tonight.
At JH Merlin Hotel. For Vasanthan—his father-in-law."
Chanda's eyes narrowed into a gleam.
"A birthday party…"
He stood. Shadows rippled off him like heat.
"Isn't that… the same hotel where Raja Sekaran was arrested?"
The gang leader nodded, swallowing.
"Yes, my lord."
Chanda grinned.
"Perfect."
He raised his hand—fingers like claws.
"Summon every underling.
Tonight, we'll bring them a gift."
Later — Dhiviya's Office
Dhiviya glanced at her phone again.
Still no reply.
She had messaged Athavan that morning, asking where he'd rushed off to so early. Nothing.
She muttered to herself, staring at her half-packed bag.
"It's Saturday. He knows I'm prepping for Appa's birthday. Still runs off without a word."
"Should I punish him with the pink car again?"
"No… pink car and a pink suit."
She didn't realize she'd said the last part out loud.
Athavan, standing silently beside her to surprise her, had heard every word.
He flinched.
"Dhiviya… please no pink suit," he groaned.
"I didn't reply because I was in a meeting. And Appa came over.
After dropping him off, I drove straight here.
But please—delete that idea from your brain."
Dhiviya gasped and spun around.
"You heard that?"
She flushed pink—then tried to hide it behind a fake gasp.
"Wait… your Appa came? Is something wrong? Will he join us for the celebration?"
"Yes. He's here for work. But he'll join us tonight."
Dhiviya looked slightly flustered.
"This will be my first time seeing him since the wedding…
Should I prepare something for him? A gift?"
Athavan shook his head.
"He's here for your Appa. You don't need to prepare anything."
Then he smirked.
"But are you prepared for the tender presentation next week?"
The shift in Dhiviya's expression was immediate. Her nerves melted into resolve.
"We're ready. 200% prepared.
We'll win that AD Tech tender—I'm certain."
That Evening — JH Merlin Hotel
A pink BMW X5 and a white BMW 5 Series pulled up to the entrance in synchrony.
From the 5 Series: Guna and Kathirvan.
From the X5: Athavan, Dhiviya, Vasanthan, and Archana.
"Perfect timing," Guna grinned.
Kathirvan glanced at the pink X5, then leaned toward Guna with a sly grin.
"Does your brother-in-law always drive this car around with your sister?"
Guna's eyes sparkled.
He whispered back:
"Uncle… it's punishment.
Whenever he upsets my sister, she makes him drive the Pink Monster."
Both Athavan and Dhiviya overheard it.
Dhiviya turned crimson. Athavan quickened his pace toward the lobby like a soldier fleeing embarrassment.
Kathirvan watched with a surprised smile.
The man who had debated strategy and political shadow wars just this morning…
Was now being scolded into driving a pink SUV by his wife.
And somehow—it warmed him.
The way Dhiviya's family embraced Athavan.
The casual teasing. The unspoken comfort.
When he'd gone out with Guna to buy a gift for Vasanthan, the way the boy spoke about Athavan—so proud, so open.
Kathirvan noticed every detail. He always did.
And now, he saw it clearly:
His son had changed.
This wasn't the same sharp-edged warrior who first arrived in Walaysia. This man had laughter. Belonging. A home.
He stood at the hotel entrance for a moment longer—watching.
Smiling.
Because he knew now… there was one thing he and Parvathy had never been able to give their son.
A complete family.
Their world—Parvathy, Vasanthan, even Neru Veera Ganapathy—had always belonged to the shadows.
People caught between light and darkness.
People who never lived a normal life.
And because of that… neither had Athavan.
Until now.
By marrying Dhiviya, he hadn't just taken a wife.
He'd found something far rarer.
A place to belong.
A quiet, ordinary chaos.
A brother in law who teased him.
A father-in-law who worried.
A wife who punished him…love him unconditionally.
A family.
Not built in bloodshed or sacrifice.
But in laughter. And love.
And the rhythm of lives lived out in the open.
As laughter echoed through the banquet hall of JH Merlin Hotel and lights flickered with gold and celebration, another kind of procession was tearing through the city.
Thirty blacked-out vehicles. Engines growling. Tires screaming against pavement.
Over a hundred gangsters crammed into the convoy—armed to the teeth. Machetes. Hatchets. Assault rifles. Nail-studded bats. Their bodies twitched like puppets strung with static. Some laughed without blinking. Others screamed at the air.
They didn't blink. They didn't breathe evenly.
Whatever coursed through their veins—wasn't natural.
They were high on something darker than drugs.
There was no trace of sanity left in their eyes—only hunger.
And in the dead center of the convoy… a luxury Maybach crept forward like a godless hearse, flanked by death.
Inside, Chanda reclined like a demon in velvet. One hand held a brass inlaid phone to his ear. The other—fingers like talons—drummed softly against the leather armrest.
"Queen," he whispered, voice calm like poison,
"I'm moving tonight. As ordered. I'll deliver every last one from Vasanthan's family to your feet."
There was a silence on the other end.
Then… it came.
A voice that sounded older than mercy.
Female. Aged. Agonizingly patient.
Like rusted silk pulling across a blade.
"I don't care if they're missing a limb or two," she rasped.
"But I want them alive."
"I want to tear their names out of their own mouths."
"I want to break their memories until they forget why they were born."
There was a hiss—like someone exhaling rage between dying teeth.
"Old grudges.
New grudges.
All of it… must be paid in full."
Chanda closed his eyes. And smiled.
As the city lights streaked past the tinted glass, he whispered to himself—low, reverent, eager.
"Tonight… the wolf will dine with the lambs."
And the convoy surged forward. No brakes. No fear. No room for forgiveness.
Inside JH Merlin, cake was being cut.
Outside… retribution was already en route.