The story begins in the bustling heart of Mumbai, the city that never sleeps — a city where dreams are born, broken, and reborn. Some call it the City of Dreams, but every dream here comes with a price. This city has given wings to many and has crushed countless others beneath its relentless pace.
Mumbai doesn't discriminate — it offers everyone a chance. Yet some snatch those chances while others let them slip through their fingers. It's a city of dazzling lights and deep shadows, where people arrive with stars in their eyes — and some end up lost in those very stars. And once something — or someone — is lost in Mumbai, finding it again is like searching for a pearl in a raging sea.
Among the millions chasing their destinies here, there was one young man named Ishan — an orphan who refused to be forgotten by fate.
He grew up in a small orphanage near Pune, often standing by the gates, watching rich men glide by in their luxury cars. Every time he saw them, his desire to rise above poverty burned brighter. He didn't just want to be rich — he wanted to rule his own destiny.
And so he did.
Today, the name Ishan Singh echoed across the globe — the youngest billionaire, the self-made emperor of a global empire called Overseas Corporation. What began as a humble fishing business in Mumbai's docks had grown into a multinational juggernaut that ruled industries from shipping to technology.
At just twenty-five, Ishan had conquered the business world. Yet today wasn't special because of his wealth — it was special because it was his birthday, and also the day he was to announce his engagement to Rashika, the woman who had stolen his heart.
He never knew his real birthdate, so he celebrated on the day the orphanage took him in — the day he was reborn into the world. Every year, he visited the children of that same orphanage, showering them with gifts and donations. But he never called it charity.
"This," he used to say, "isn't a donation — it's a son serving his parents."
That morning, as the golden sun rose over Pune, Ishan stood surrounded by the laughter of children, his heart light and content. But fate, as it often does, had other plans.
That night, the scene shifts to Mumbai's Juhu Beach — alive with shimmering lights, the sea reflecting a thousand hues. Luxury cars lined the sands, the air thick with perfume and power. The city's elite had gathered for one reason — the birthday bash of the youngest billionaire, Mr. Ishan Singh.
He was a symbol of ambition for young men, and the heartbeat of countless women. Celebrities, tycoons, and politicians streamed in through the red-carpeted entrance, while the crowd outside screamed the names of their favorite stars.
Far out at sea, anchored like a floating palace, was a private yacht glittering under floodlights. Boats ferried guests to and fro. Onboard, amid the pulsating music and cheers, stood the man of the evening — Ishan himself, stripped to the waist, locked in a live combat match against international fighters.
He loved fighting — not out of violence, but out of passion. It was his release, his reminder that success didn't make him soft. Tonight, he had invited world-class fighters from Russia, America, and Japan — and he was taking them all on at once.
"I love you, Ishan!""You're so sexy!"
The crowd roared as the billionaire fought like a lion. Among them stood Rashika, his fiancée — dressed in elegant Indian attire, looking stunning yet strangely distant. Her face held no smile, but every time Ishan's eyes met hers, she forced one — a smile that hid something.
What exactly? Even she wasn't sure anymore.
Within minutes, Ishan defeated all his challengers. The crowd went wild. Later, after a shower and change, he cut the grand cake amid cheers and music that echoed across the Arabian Sea.
By 2 AM, only a handful of close guests remained aboard the yacht. Ishan stood at the bow, gazing at the endless ocean, the night breeze brushing his face. He felt peace — real, deep peace. But destiny was already turning its page.
He sensed footsteps behind him and turned. Rashika approached, two crystal glasses of wine in her hands. She smiled faintly, handing him one.
"Can't wait for the day we finally get married," he said warmly, taking a sip. "Have you thought of names for our future kids yet?"
Rashika smiled again — that same smile, brittle as glass.
Then she said quietly, "Strange, isn't it? Today I announced my wedding... and tonight, I lost my husband-to-be in an accident. But before he died, he made sure to leave all his wealth in my name."
Ishan frowned, confused. "Rashika, what are you saying? You sound... strange. Are you drunk?"
Before he could finish, a voice echoed from behind — dark, familiar, and venomous:
"Oh, she's not the one who's drunk, hero — you are."
Ishan turned sharply. There stood Ronnie, the spoiled heir who had once tried to harass Rashika — the same man Ishan had humiliated years ago. But what shocked him more was the sight before him.
Rashika walked over to Ronnie... and embraced him. She kissed him gently on the cheek — a gesture that stabbed deeper than any knife.
Ishan froze, his heart sinking. "Rashika... what are you doing?"
She laughed softly. "Oh, my dear fiancé — you really are naïve. This was all a plan — our plan. And you, the mighty Ishan Singh, walked right into it."
Ishan's world tilted. His eyes hardened. "So, this was all a game... but remember, you're still on my ship," he growled. "Guards! Throw them off!"
No one came. Instead, the fighters he'd faced earlier reappeared — now armed with guns and knives.
Ronnie smirked. "Forgot to mention — your darling fiancée gave your guards the night off. These are my men now. And tonight, you die, billionaire boy."
Ishan clenched his fists, defiant even in betrayal. "You think a few hired guns can kill me?"
Ronnie's laughter filled the air. "Of course not. That's why I let you drink the poisoned wine."
The realization hit him like a storm. His vision blurred. The world began to spin.
Ishan stumbled but refused to fall. "Heh... looks like I mastered success, but failed to master people," he muttered with a grim smile.
Ronnie frowned. Even poisoned and dying, Ishan smiled like a man unbroken — and that unnerved him.
"End it," Ronnie ordered coldly.
A gunman stepped forward, pressing his weapon to Ishan's forehead. But before he could pull the trigger, Ishan moved — swift as lightning, grabbing the man's wrist, twisting it, and firing the bullet back through his skull.
The others hesitated. Ishan turned, blood dripping, his gun aimed at Ronnie and Rashika.
But just as he was about to shoot, his body gave out — the poison and wounds catching up. The bullet went wide.
"Kill him!" Ronnie screamed.
Another shot rang out — the bullet pierced Ishan's chest. Darkness crept into his eyes. He staggered, gripping the railing. Above, the stars blurred into a single glowing orb — a strange light in the sky, watching silently.
Another shot. This one hit his shoulder.
Ishan fell — his body crashing into the cold Arabian Sea. The waves swallowed him whole.
On the deck, Rashika and Ronnie stared down, waiting... until the water stilled.
"He's gone," Rashika whispered.
Ronnie smirked. "Good riddance."
They turned away, laughing — never noticing that same mysterious light descending slowly into the sea after him... as if the heavens themselves had decided that Ishan Singh's story was far from over.