The night was charged with anticipation as Dilli stared at the glowing screen of his laptop. Numbers danced before his eyes—the betting odds, the ratios, the shifting tides of chance. The match was West Indies vs. Bangladesh, and the betting world leaned heavily towards West Indies with a 1.3 bidding ratio.
Dilli's fingers trembled slightly, but his heart was firm. He slid ₹17,00,000/- from his wallet into the wager. "This is it," he whispered to himself, his eyes reflecting the glow of the screen.
The match unfolded like a dream for him. The West Indies batsmen hammered the ball mercilessly, runs flowing like a river in flood. Bangladesh crumbled under pressure, their chase collapsing before it even began. At the final whistle, the scoreboard read: West Indies won by 138 runs.
Dilli's wallet soared to ₹22,10,000/-—his original ₹17,00,000/- plus winnings of ₹5,10,000/-. For a boy of his age, the numbers were dizzying, unreal, yet real enough to change lives.
He calmly withdrew ₹1,10,000/-, setting it aside for future plans. His wallet balance sat at ₹21,00,000/-, while his bank account now showed ₹2,46,000/-. Numbers weren't just digits anymore—they were stepping stones to the empire he envisioned.
After the match he approached his father with the seriousness of a grown man, though his frame was still that of a child.
"Daddy," Dilli began, his voice steady yet brimming with urgency, "I need two advanced computers, as many storage devices as possible, the best internet connection, and… a secluded research station in our farm. Also, a small commercial building in the village center. I want to start my company there."
Gadhiraju froze. The words crashed into him like thunder. His son, barely out of his childhood, was speaking like a seasoned businessman. His mind spun in disbelief.
Who is this boy? My son… or some old billionaire's soul living inside his small body?
Suppressing the storm within, he spoke with a father's raw honesty. His voice was heavy, yet laced with tenderness.
"Dilli… you should enjoy your childhood like other kids. I know I was strict before—it was only for your good. But I don't want my son to become successful at the cost of his childhood pleasures. Chase your dreams slowly, enjoy your life. Don't rush."
Those words pierced Dilli's heart. Tears welled in his eyes before he could stop them. He rushed forward and hugged his father tightly, wrapping around him like a little python clinging to its tree. His voice came out hoarse, like rocks grinding together.
"No, Daddy… I don't have the time for all that anymore."
With that, he pulled out his bank card, pressing it into his father's hands. "There's ₹2,46,000/- in the account. Use it. Buy the computers and storage devices."
Gadhiraju's eyes widened. Shock rippled across his face. Stocks? he thought instantly. But none of the shares they held had even crossed two lakh in total. Where had this boy conjured up the rest?
He gripped Dilli by the shoulders, pulling him slightly away from the embrace so he could look him in the eye. His voice rose in confusion.
"Why did you sell the stocks, Dilli? And where did the extra money come from?"
Dilli shook his head earnestly. "I didn't sell the stocks, Daddy. I earned it online."
The father's shock deepened. His voice cracked in disbelief. "What? How can you earn ₹2.5 lakhs in just six days?"
Without missing a beat, Dilli blurted out the first excuse that came to mind. "Nonsense! I got it as an advance from clients. I… I detected a bug in Gmail and reported it to their support head. They gifted me the money."
The lie was clumsy, transparent, but it was all he could muster. Gadhiraju stared at him, knowing his son's words didn't hold water. Yet behind the lie, he sensed something larger—something Dilli wasn't ready to reveal.
He exhaled slowly, his expression hardening with a father's seriousness. "Dilli… listen to me carefully. You can do anything you want. Anything. But not at the cost of our family's reputation. I can give you my life if you ask, but not our name. Never our name. Keep this in your mind before you act. If something goes wrong, we can correct it. But a ruined reputation… that is harder to repair."
Dilli's heart twisted. He knew his father was speaking from the core of his being. What his father didn't know was that, for his son's sake, reputation mattered little to him—yet for his father's sake, it mattered everything. He would not drag his father's honor through the mud for any ambition.
Tears blurred his vision again as he hugged his father tightly, burying his face against him. "Daddy, don't worry too much. I know what I'm doing. I'll never do anything to harm our reputation. Please… don't be so serious with me, okay?"
Gadhiraju said nothing, only held him close, his silence heavy with both love and worry.
Inside, Dilli clenched his fists against his father's back, his heart pounding with a vow he dared not speak aloud.
Just wait, Dad. A few years. That's all I need. I'll make our name known in every household across the globe. This is my silent promise—to you, and to myself.
And as the night descended over their home, father and son stood bound together—not by wealth or ambition, but by a love forged in fire, fear, and unshakable faith.