The monsoon rain hammered the Fernandes family villa in Banjara Hills, its glass walls steaming under the storm's wrath, a gilded trap of shattered trust. Inside, the air crackled as Aisha Seth, in a crimson saree sharp as her fury, faced Robin Seth, her eyes blazing with betrayal. Tara, their five-year-old daughter, clung to Robin's hand, her tiny frame a beacon of loyalty amid the chaos. The chandelier's sterile glow clashed with Aisha's venomous tone, the scent of wet jasmine seeping through cracked windows.
"You stole her, Robin!" Aisha's words cut like a Diwali sparkler. "Snatched Tara without a word, spinning some hero tale to win her heart? You're scheming for custody!"
Robin, his black Jacket soaked, stood unyielding, his smartwatch pinging a steady pulse. Tara's stuffed bear, scarred from the east dock's carnage, hung tight in her grip. "I saved her, Aisha," he said, voice low, lethal. "You let her fall into Trigger's claws. Blame me again, and Tara stays with me—permanently."
Tara's eyes, wide and fierce, tugged at Robin's sleeve. "Daddy saved me!" she piped, her voice a knife to Aisha's heart. "The bad men took me, but Daddy came!"
Aisha's face twisted, Vikram Malhotra's lies—his claim of alerting the authorities and saving tara himself—clouding her mind. "Lies!" she snapped, glaring at Tara. "He's fooling you, beta. Vikram saved you, not this… reckless nobody!"
Vikram, lounging by the marble staircase, smirked, his ego a polished blade. "Exactly, Aisha," he purred, venom dripping. "Robin's a loose cannon—violent, irresponsible. He'd drag Tara into his underworld muck to spite you." His secret texts to Rocky Bhai, now useless with Trigger's fall, fueled his desperate spin to claim credit and Aisha's empire.
Anna Fernandes, stepped forward, her voice sharp. "Aisha di, Tara's telling the truth! Robin tore through Trigger to save her. You're blind, swallowing Vikram's nonsense!" Her defiance, rooted in guilt for not watching Tara, cut deep.
Vikram's smirk faltered, his eyes darting to Anna. "Mind your place, Anna," he hissed. "Robin's a liability, not a hero. I called the cops—I saved Tara, check the logs or Whatever!" His lie, bold and brittle, hung in the air.
At Priya Reddy's Villa, the confrontation spilled over, the rain's roar a grim chorus. Priya, leaned against a pillar, her sass a spark. "Aisha, look at Tara," she said, smirking. "Beaming with her dad, while you were too busy with your empire to notice her slipping away." Her words, laced with provocation, stung Aisha's pride.
Aisha's eyes flashed, her voice a whip. "Don't you dare, Priya! You're helping him manipulate my daughter!" She turned to Robin, fury raw. "You kept Tara from me, didn't tell me she was safe! You're no father—you're a monster!"
Robin's gaze was ice, his Don Robin fire flaring. "A monster?" he said, voice deadly calm. "You waited two hours to tell me she was gone, Aisha. You failed her. One more slip, and I take Tara for good—no bet, no mercy." He turned, Tara in his arms, leaving Aisha seething, her misconceptions a widening chasm.
Across town, at the Police Headquarters in Banjara Hills, Captain Manoj huddled with Kiran Singh, the Hunters' operative, their faces grim. The east dock massacre—Trigger's men, Blade, Raka, and the Boss, all dead—reeked of an High Level grandmaster. "Robin Seth was there," Manoj muttered, suspicion hardening. "But No proof, and he is stay-at-home dad, it can't be him, can it? but who else could wipe out an A-level like the Boss?" Kiran, nursing her dislocated shoulder, nodded. "We need to find who it was."
Manoj's eyes narrowed. "The Hunters are reporting to their Superiors. Rocky Bhai's Organization will come for blood." The underworld's balance, shaken by Trigger's fall, was tilting toward war.