Adarsh Joshi stepped out into the sun-drenched driveway. The towering walls of the mansion stood behind him like silent sentinels of a secret war. He adjusted his coat, glanced once over his shoulder with a stern, knowing look, and walked away. His conversation with Ranvijay Shergill had ignited a storm—one only Khushi would face.

It was a little past 12 p.m. when the Shergill Mansion’s front gates creaked open to the soft hum of an approaching car. The mansion stood eerily quiet—almost deserted, as if it was holding its breath.