Inside the unfinished interior of Regal Club, a new venture gifted by Priya Reddy to Robin Seth, the staff seethed with resistance, loyal to Priya but rejecting Robin as their boss. Manager Chetan Rana, a wiry man with a sharp gaze, and security leader Vikram Singh, a towering B-level fighter with scarred arms, led the charge. "We answer to Priya, not you," Chetan snapped, his voice thick with disdain. "This club's our life—you'll ruin it."
Chetan stepped forward, addressing the gathered staff, his tone fierce with loyalty to Priya. "I've poured everything into keeping this place ready for her vision," he said, his eyes blazing. "Robin's a nobody—his leadership will bury Regal before it even starts. We're here for Priya, not him." The staff nodded, their devotion to Priya palpable, their distrust of Robin fueled by his unassuming look and rumors of his past as Aisha Seth's ex-husband.
Vikram Singh loomed over Robin, his voice a low growl. "My security team will hold this club together," he said, fists clenched. "We're indispensable. Accept Priya as boss, or we walk." His threat echoed, the staff murmuring in support, their loyalty to Priya making Robin an outsider.
The staff's rejection stung, their whispers sharp: "He's just Priya's charity case," one muttered. "Why's she forcing him on us?" Their refusal to accept Robin as boss hung heavy, the air crackling with defiance.
Robin raised a hand, stopping Priya from intervening, his voice calm but cutting. "Enough, Chetan," he said, stepping forward, his gaze locking onto the manager's. "Priya gifted me this club and you, but your mismanagement would've sunk her vision if I hadn't stepped in." The staff gasped, Chetan's face reddening with indignation.
Robin turned to the group, his tone bold. "I'll prove my worth tonight," he declared. "I'll secure a liquor supply contract with Global Imports at better prices than Aisha's bars, despite Neelima Menon's refusal." The promise stunned the room, Priya's eyes widening at the audacity.
Chetan laughed, his skepticism sharp. "You'll fail, Seth," he said, his voice a whip. "If you pull this off, I'll follow you without question. But if you don't, you're out." He crossed his arms, his bet a challenge to Robin's claim.
Robin's eyes glinted, unflinched. "Deal," he said, his voice steady. "If I fail, I walk away from Regal. But when I succeed, you're mine, Chetan." The stakes set, the staff murmured, their doubt heavy but intrigued.
Priya, her face tight with anxiety, pulled Robin aside. "This is a gamble," she whispered, her voice tense. "Neelima cut us off—what if you can't do it?" Her eyes softened, her trust unwavering. "But I'm with you, Robin. Win or lose, I'll face the fallout." Her words deepened their bond, her hand brushing his in quiet support.
Robin turned to Vikram Singh, his voice laced with mockery. "You, a B-level fighter, think you can defy me?" he said, stepping closer. "I'll give you three free moves. Try me." The challenge was a gauntlet, testing Vikram's defiance and silencing the room.
Vikram's eyes blazed, his fists clenching. He lunged with a heavy right hook, then a swift jab, and a brutal kick, each move precise but fueled by rage. Robin dodged effortlessly, his body a blur of instinct. As Vikram's third strike missed, Robin countered with a single, devastating punch to Vikram's chest, sending him crashing to the floor, blood trickling from his mouth. The staff gasped, frozen, as Vikram groaned, clutching his ribs, his defiance shattered.
Robin stood tall, his voice commanding. "Anyone else?" he asked, his gaze sweeping the room. The staff shrank back, their resistance to his leadership quelled by his raw power, his SS-level authority undeniable. Chetan's eyes widened, his skepticism shaken, as Priya's smile gleamed with pride. Regal Club's future hung on Robin's gambit, the night's promise a spark in the brewing storm.