The grand ballroom of Mohan Desai’s estate was a dazzling display of wealth and power. Crystal chandeliers bathed the room in warm light, reflecting off the polished marble floors. Men in tailored suits and women in exquisite sarees mingled, their laughter masking the undercurrent of secrecy. This was no ordinary gala; it was a covert meeting of Project Lotus’s masterminds.

Outside, Kabir adjusted the cufflinks on his borrowed tuxedo, his expression unreadable. Ananya stood beside him, resplendent in a crimson silk saree, her appearance so different from her usual no-nonsense demeanor that even Kabir had to do a double take.

“Try not to look so tense,” she muttered, her lips barely moving. “You’ll blow our cover before we even get in.”

Kabir smirked. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Maybe a little,” she admitted. “But focus, Rathore. This isn’t a Bollywood premiere.”

A Game of Masks

The guards at the entrance were armed but discreet, their sharp eyes scanning every guest. Kabir and Ananya handed over their forged invitations, their fake names—Mr. Aryan Mehta and Mrs. Priya Mehta—printed in elegant script.

The guard scanned the invitations, then nodded. “Enjoy the evening.”

Inside, Kabir felt the weight of the mission pressing down on him. Every face in the room could be an ally or an enemy, every conversation a potential trap.

Ananya leaned in, her voice low. “Desai’s office is on the second floor. That’s where we’ll find the files on Project Lotus.”

Kabir nodded. “You distract the crowd. I’ll handle the office.”

“Be careful,” she warned.

The Ballroom Stage

Ananya made her way toward the stage, where a string quartet played soft melodies. With the grace of a seasoned socialite, she struck up a conversation with Mohan Desai himself, her charm disarming the industrialist.

Kabir used the momentary distraction to slip away, his movements precise and practiced. He found the staircase leading to the second floor, guarded by two men in black suits.

Thinking quickly, he pulled a tray of champagne flutes from a passing waiter. Balancing the tray, he approached the guards with an air of confidence.

“Compliments of Mr. Desai,” he said, offering the drinks.

The guards exchanged a glance, then shrugged, each taking a flute. As they sipped, Kabir struck—quick, silent blows that left them unconscious but alive.

The Vault of Secrets

Desai’s office was an opulent room filled with antique furniture and bookshelves. Kabir’s eyes locked on a steel safe embedded in the wall.

Ananya’s voice came through his earpiece. “The code is 5-9-2-7-1. Hurry up—Desai’s getting suspicious.”

Kabir punched in the code, and the safe clicked open. Inside were stacks of documents, USB drives, and a laptop. Kabir grabbed everything, stuffing them into a satchel.

But as he turned to leave, a voice stopped him cold.

“Well, well. The infamous Kabir Singh Rathore.”

Kapoor’s Trap

Standing in the doorway was none other than Kapoor, flanked by armed guards. His smug expression sent a wave of anger through Kabir.

“I must admit, you’ve been a thorn in my side,” Kapoor said, his voice dripping with condescension. “But you’ve overplayed your hand, Rathore.”

Kabir’s mind raced. He was outnumbered, cornered, but not defeated.

“Bold of you to show up in person, Kapoor,” Kabir said, stalling for time. “Desperate, are we?”

Kapoor chuckled. “Hardly. This ends tonight.”

The Escape

Before Kapoor could give the order to shoot, the room’s lights flickered and went out. In the darkness, Kabir heard Ananya’s voice in his earpiece.

“You’re welcome.”

Moments later, an explosion rocked the estate, shaking the walls and sending guests into a panic. Kabir used the chaos to his advantage, slipping past Kapoor’s guards and sprinting down the hall.

Ananya met him at the base of the staircase, her saree torn but her eyes blazing with determination.

“You set off a bomb?” Kabir asked, incredulous.

“Just a small one,” she replied. “Enough to create a diversion. Let’s move.”

A Narrow Escape

The duo fled through the estate’s back entrance, blending into the terrified crowd spilling into the gardens. Kapoor’s men were hot on their heels, but Kabir and Ananya’s knowledge of the terrain gave them a crucial edge.

As they reached a waiting motorcycle hidden in the shadows, Ananya handed Kabir a helmet.

“Drive,” she said. “I’ll cover us.”

Kabir revved the engine, and the bike roared to life, speeding away into the night as gunfire erupted behind them.

The Aftermath

Back at their hideout, Kabir and Ananya sifted through the stolen documents. The scale of Project Lotus was staggering—its operations spanning multiple countries, its profits funding everything from political campaigns to organized crime.

But one document caught Kabir’s eye: a list of names, many of them prominent figures in politics, business, and law enforcement.

“This is it,” Kabir said, his voice grim. “Proof that Kapoor isn’t just a kingpin—he’s part of something much bigger.”

Ananya nodded. “We’ve got leverage now. But exposing this will put a target on our backs like never before.”

Kabir’s gaze hardened. “Then we make every shot count.”