Then came the insiders.
There were always men inside companies like DG Group who were dissatisfied, underpaid, overlooked, or simply greedy. Karan found them all. He did not threaten them, just paid them to work as an insider for him. Slowly, information began to flow to him. Financial forecasts, internal disputes, client insecurities, and pending negotiations. Every detail became a tool.
Losses followed. Not dramatic ones. Just enough to disturb shareholders. Just enough to keep Daksh Goel awake at night, studying balance sheets that refused to behave.
Six Months Ago
When Karan was finally convinced that DG Group was close to its breaking point, he stopped.
Because DG Group was not the real target.
It was only the bait.
Only after laying every piece of that groundwork, Karan finally turned his attention to the man he had not faced in years.
Dilip Goel.
Karan had imagined this meeting countless times. In some versions, his hands were already around the man’s throat. In others, Dilip begged. In none of them did Karan lose control. That mattered to him more than anything. He would not give Dilip the satisfaction of seeing him broken.
Karan used his influence, a few calls, a few signatures, and a few favours to get this meeting arranged between him and Dilip Goel in a private room in the prison where Dilip served his sentence.
Before the meeting, Karan spent one long night alone. He did not drink. He did not pace. He sat still, letting memories surface without fighting them. His mother’s voice. The sound of her morning prayers in the house. The gunshot that had ended everything. He let the rage come. But he was not going to that prison to meet Dilip as a grieving son.
He was going as a man who had already won half the war.
The next day, the prison granted him access without resistance. The guards led him through a corridor that smelled of disinfectant and rust. Iron doors lined the passage, each one holding a life reduced to numbers and bars.
The guards finally stopped outside a reinforced glass cubicle where this meeting was arranged. Karan exhaled hard, controlling those countless emotions running through his head at the moment, as he stepped inside.
Dilip sat back in his chair, relaxed, almost comfortable. He looked older, thinner, his hair streaked with grey, but prison had not bent him the way it bent others. There was no guilt on his face. No remorse. Only the same arrogance Karan remembered from years ago.
When the door closed behind Karan, for a moment, neither of them spoke.
Karan had expected many things when he finally stood face to face with Dilip Goel again. He had expected hatred to surge. What he had not expected was how violently his body reacted to the sight of the man sitting so comfortably before him like he never did anything.
His hands curled into fists at his sides, nails biting into skin, not because he was losing control, but because he was forcing himself not to. The man who had pulled the trigger, the man who had watched his mother bleed out on the floor without flinching, the man who had stolen years of love of his familyand replaced them with nights soaked in fear and rage, was right before him, and he could do nothing.
Dilip looked at him and smiled.
“Karan Wadhwa,” he said, leaning back slightly. “I knew someday you would come. But you took a long time. What happened?” His lips curved. “Were you so scared to meet me?”
Karan’s breath slowed, but the fire in his chest burned brighter. He stepped closer, close enough that Dilip could no longer pretend this was just another visitor passing time.
“I was waiting for the right moment,” Karan replied with deadly calm. “Otherwise, if I had wanted to, it wouldn’t have taken me even a day to arrange your murder inside these four walls. A death that would look like suicide. Or a natural death blamed on old age.”
Dilip’s smile faltered, just slightly, but Karan did not stop.
“But that kind of death would have been too easy for you,” he continued. “You don’t deserve something so merciful.”
He leaned in further, his face hard, unforgiving.
“I want you to live and suffer,” Karan said slowly. “A life where every breath feels like a burden. Where each day you wake up wishing you had never been born. Where you remember every mistake you made, and there is no way left to undo any of it.”
For the first time since the meeting began, Dilip did not smile.
“Power,” Dilip said, tilting his head slightly. “Power suits you. I can tell you didn’t come here empty-handed. What did you come for, Karan? Closure?”
Karan leaned forward, placing his palms flat against the table separating them.
