The Devil's Offer
1272 Words
The name stared back at her from the file.
AARAV MALHOTRA
Printed in bold black letters across the cover.
The office was silent except for the soft hum of the air conditioner and the distant sounds of traffic outside.
Swasti sat motionless behind her desk.
The city glittered beyond the glass walls of her office, but her attention remained fixed on the thick file lying open before her.
For the last twenty minutes she had been reading the same witness statement.
And for the last twenty minutes something had been bothering her.
Something wasn't right.
The witness claimed he had seen Aarav Malhotra order the attack on Karan Mehta.
The timeline matched.
The location matched.
The statements matched.
Everything looked perfect.
Too perfect.
And in Swasti's experience, perfect evidence was usually dangerous evidence.
Because real life wasn't perfect.
People lied.
Records got altered.
Stories changed.
Truth became messy.
This file wasn't messy.
It was clean.
Suspiciously clean.
A slow knock interrupted her thoughts.
Rhea entered carrying a tablet.
"Still reading?"
Swasti didn't look up.
"Something's wrong."
Rhea sighed dramatically.
"You've been saying that for an hour."
"Because something is wrong."
"You haven't even met him."
"I don't need to."
Finally she closed the file.
"Look at this."
Rhea walked closer.
Swasti pointed toward a witness statement.
"This witness claims he heard Aarav ordering the attack."
"Okay."
"He also claims he was attending a charity event at the same time."
Rhea frowned.
"Maybe he left early?"
"Maybe."
Swasti tapped another page.
"Or maybe someone forgot social media exists."
Rhea leaned forward.
Her eyes widened.
"Oh."
The witness had uploaded photographs from the event.
Timestamped.
Smiling.
Drinking champagne.
Standing with politicians.
At the exact same time he supposedly overheard the conversation.
"That's bad."
"It's worse than bad."
Swasti leaned back in her chair.
"It's lazy."
For a long moment neither woman spoke.
Then Rhea carefully asked the question everyone else had been asking since the morning.
"Are you taking the case?"
Silence.
Swasti looked back toward the city.
Aarav Malhotra.
The man was practically a legend.
Half the country thought he was a genius.
The other half thought he belonged in prison.
And somehow both sides were probably right.
"I haven't decided."
Rhea crossed her arms.
"That's lawyer language."
"What does that mean?"
"It means you've already decided."
Swasti laughed despite herself.
Unfortunately, Rhea was usually correct.
Across the city, inside Malhotra Mansion, another conversation was taking place.
The study was enormous.
Dark wood.
Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves.
A fireplace.
And enough silence to make most people uncomfortable.
Aarav Malhotra sat behind a large desk.
Several legal files were spread before him.
News channels played silently on a television mounted on the wall.
Every headline carried his name.
Every discussion questioned his innocence.
Every expert had an opinion.
Aarav ignored all of them.
His attention remained fixed on a completely different file.
A file containing exactly one photograph.
Swasti Chaudhary.
Across from him sat his father.
Vikram Malhotra.
One of the very few people in the world who could speak to Aarav without fear.
Vikram picked up the photograph.
A young woman.
Sharp eyes.
Confident smile.
The kind of expression that suggested she was already three steps ahead of everyone else in the room.
"So this is her."
Aarav didn't answer.
Vikram smirked.
"You're staring at a lawyer's file as if it contains state secrets."
"Her success rate is impressive."
"That wasn't what I asked."
Aarav finally looked up.
His father knew him too well.
Annoyingly well.
"What are you implying?"
"I'm implying that out of every lawyer in the country..."
Vikram placed the file down.
"...you chose her."
A long silence followed.
Rain tapped softly against the windows.
Finally Aarav spoke.
"Do you know how many lawyers refused this case?"
"Most of them."
"Do you know how many wanted the publicity?"
"A lot."
Aarav nodded.
"Exactly."
Then he leaned back.
"The ones who refused were afraid."
His voice remained calm.
"The ones who accepted wanted attention."
"And her?"
Aarav's eyes drifted back toward the file.
"She wants the truth."
Vikram studied his son carefully.
"Interesting answer."
"It's the correct one."
Vikram laughed.
"You're already defending her."
"I don't know her."
"No."
His father smiled knowingly.
"But you've spent three weeks researching her."
Silence.
Dangerous silence.
The kind that usually made people regret speaking.
Vikram remained completely unbothered.
"You know about her cases."
No response.
"You know about her interviews."
No response.
"You know about her university records."
Still nothing.
Then Vikram delivered the final blow.
"You even know her favourite coffee."
Aarav stared at him.
His father grinned.
"I saw that in the report."
For the first time all evening, Aarav looked irritated.
And Vikram enjoyed every second of it.
Meanwhile, in Italy.
Agastya Chaudhary sat inside his apartment overlooking the city lights.
His laptop was open.
Several business reports waited for his attention.
Unfortunately, his attention was elsewhere.
Specifically, on his sister.
His phone buzzed.
A message from Swasti.
Meeting him tomorrow.
Agastya immediately called.
The call connected after two rings.
"Tell me you're joking."
Swasti sighed.
"Hello to you too."
"Swasti."
"No."
"Swasti."
"No."
"Absolutely not."
She laughed.
"Can I at least hear the reason?"
"I know his name."
"You know media headlines."
"I know enough."
"No, you don't."
Agastya rubbed his forehead.
Every time his sister used that tone, it meant she had already made up her mind.
A habit she had possessed since childhood.
An incredibly annoying habit.
"Promise me you'll be careful."
Her voice softened slightly.
"I always am."
"That's not true."
"It is."
"Swasti."
"No."
"Swasti."
"No."
He groaned.
She laughed.
For a brief moment, everything felt normal again.
Then Agastya became serious.
"Something about this feels wrong."
Silence.
The laughter disappeared.
Because strangely enough...
Swasti agreed.
Something did feel wrong.
She just didn't know what.
Yet.
The next evening arrived faster than expected.
The conference room occupied the top floor of one of Malhotra Group's corporate towers.
Glass walls overlooked the entire city.
Luxury.
Power.
Control.
The building practically screamed Aarav Malhotra.
Swasti stepped out of the elevator.
A receptionist immediately stood.
"Ms. Chaudhary."
"Thank you."
"This way."
The walk felt longer than it actually was.
Several employees glanced at her.
Some curious.
Some nervous.
All aware of where she was going.
The receptionist stopped outside a pair of large doors.
"He is waiting inside."
Of course he was.
Swasti pushed the doors open.
The room was silent.
A man sat at the far end of the table.
Black suit.
Black tie.
Calm expression.
No bodyguards.
No assistants.
No unnecessary display of power.
Which somehow made him even more intimidating.
For a moment neither spoke.
Neither looked away.
Neither seemed interested in breaking the silence.
Then Swasti walked forward.
Placed the file on the table.
And sat down.
The city lights glowed behind him.
His expression remained unreadable.
Finally she spoke.
"Before we begin..."
Aarav folded his hands.
"I'm listening."
Swasti opened the file.
Her eyes never left his.
"Did you kidnap Karan Mehta?"
Not a second of hesitation.
Not a single attempt to lie.
"Yes."
The answer echoed through the room.
Most clients would have denied it.
Most clients would have panicked.
Most clients would have called it a misunderstanding.
Aarav Malhotra simply told the truth.
And somehow...
That was far more dangerous.
Swasti slowly closed the file.
Then she nodded once.
"Good."
For the first time, one of Aarav's eyebrows lifted slightly.
"Good?"
"At least you're honest."
And for the first time since entering the room...
A faint smile appeared on Aarav Malhotra's face.
Not warm.
Not friendly.
Just interested.
Very interested.
To be continued... 🖤⚖️🔥
- Writer
