The Shalimar Bungalow Murder
A Crime Mystery Report (Fiction)
November 3, 2024 | 7:15 AM
Hazratganj Police Station, Lucknow
The morning sun filtered through the rust-streaked iron bars of the police station window, casting long, golden beams onto Inspector Raghav Sharan's cluttered desk. The air inside the station was thick with the scent of damp files, stale tea, and the kind of exhaustion that settled deep into one's bones.
Raghav sat hunched over an old case file, flipping through faded photographs of another unsolved murder. Another failure. His fingers traced the outline of a victim’s face, a young woman whose case had gone cold over a decade ago.
"Sharan sir!"
The sharp voice of Constable Aman Trivedi cut through his thoughts. The young officer stood at the doorway, slightly out of breath, his khaki uniform wrinkled from the morning rush.
"Sir, there’s been a murder."
Raghav didn’t react immediately. Murders were common in a city like Lucknow. Political feuds, business rivalries, crimes of passion—they all ended the same way. A corpse.
"Where?" he asked, setting down the file.
"Shalimar Bungalow No. 7, sir. A black Mercedes-Benz S-Class was found parked outside the mansion with a dead body inside. The victim is Ayesha Rathore, a model and the daughter of retired IAS officer K.K. Rathore."
Raghav’s grip tightened around the edge of his desk.
A high-profile case. The kind that made headlines.
He stood up, grabbing his coat.
"Let’s go."
The moment he stepped outside, the weight of his failures clung to him like a second skin. He knew the truth: this might be his last chance to redeem himself.
November 3, 2024 | 8:00 AM
Shalimar Bungalow No. 7, Lucknow
The Shalimar Bungalows were a cluster of opulent mansions tucked away in the heart of Lucknow, each home belonging to politicians, businessmen, or old-money families that had thrived on generational wealth.
Bungalow No. 7 stood out even among them—its white marble façade gleamed under the morning sun, and its intricately carved wooden gates loomed like silent sentinels guarding secrets that did not wish to be uncovered.
But today, those gates were wide open. And death had entered.
The black Mercedes-Benz S-Class sat in the long, paved driveway, its engine cold. Uniformed officers had already set up a perimeter, keeping back a gathering crowd of curious onlookers.
Raghav walked toward the car, his experienced gaze scanning every inch.
The driver’s side door was slightly ajar. Inside, slumped against the expensive leather seats, was Ayesha Rathore, her face pale and lifeless. A bullet wound on her temple told the story of her last moments. Blood had dried against her skin, a stark contrast to the shimmering gold silk saree she wore.
She had been beautiful in life. Now, she was a cold, lifeless mystery.
Beside her, in the cup holder, was a half-empty bottle of red wine.
A single tear stain ran down her left cheek.
"Time of death?" Raghav asked, crouching near the car.
Raghav’s eyes flickered to the dashboard camera.
It was missing.
The CCTV cameras on the bungalow’s gates? Disabled.
Her phone? Also missing.
This was not a crime of impulse. Someone had meticulously planned this murder.
A crime committed in the middle of a grand celebration.
Somewhere in that guest list, the killer was hiding.
November 3, 2024 | 9:30 AM
Inside Shalimar Bungalow No. 7
The interior of the Shalimar Bungalow was a picture of extravagance—chandeliers dripping with crystals, antique paintings, Persian rugs. The aftermath of last night’s party still lingered—half-empty glasses, scattered cushions, and the distant scent of expensive perfume.
Standing in the middle of the room, unaffected by the chaos, was Rudra Pratap Singh.
At 28, Rudra was Lucknow’s most eligible bachelor, heir to an empire of real estate, luxury hotels, and political connections. He was dressed immaculately, a navy-blue suit tailored to perfection, a Rolex gleaming on his wrist.
He held a glass of whiskey in his hand—at nine in the morning.
"Inspector, what a tragedy," Rudra said, voice smooth and controlled.
Raghav studied him. No signs of grief. No signs of shock.
"You were close to Ayesha Rathore?" Raghav asked, watching for the smallest reaction.
Raghav wasn’t convinced.
"Who was the last person to see her alive?"
"Left early? Where?"
"To my room."
A solid alibi. Or a well-crafted lie?
Before Raghav could press further, Aman approached, holding a printed sheet.
"Sir, the CCTV footage from the street cameras shows Ayesha’s car arriving at 2:15 AM. But after that, the footage is missing—someone tampered with it."
Raghav exhaled sharply.
Someone inside this house had killed her.
November 3, 2024 | 11:00 AM
Forensic Lab, Lucknow
The autopsy report arrived within hours, and it changed everything.
- Ayesha was shot between 2:30 AM and 3:00 AM.
- The bullet was fired from a Beretta—a rare Italian handgun.
- There were traces of sedatives in her bloodstream.
She had been drugged before she was killed.
"Someone wanted her unconscious," Raghav murmured, staring at the report.
Aman’s phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen and his face paled.
"Sir… we found Ayesha’s phone."
November 3, 2024 | 11:30 AM
A Drain, 2 km from Shalimar Bungalow
A sanitation worker had discovered a discarded phone, its screen cracked but still functional.
The last message sent from Ayesha’s phone was at 2:30 AM.
"Meet me at the car. We need to talk. I know the truth."
The recipient?
Rudra Pratap Singh.
Raghav’s hands tightened around the phone.
She had uncovered something.
And it had cost her life.
---------
The Crime Scene
November 3, 2024 | 8:15 AM
Shalimar Bungalow No. 7, Lucknow
The scent of freshly cut roses from the mansion’s garden mixed with the heavy metallic tang of dried blood as Inspector Raghav Sharan stepped toward the black Mercedes-Benz S-Class.
A morning mist still clung to the trees, giving the crime scene an eerie stillness. The chaotic murmurs of onlookers, journalists, and uniformed officers barely registered in his mind. His focus was on the lifeless woman inside the car.
Ayesha Rathore. 26 years old. Model. Daughter of retired IAS officer K.K. Rathore.
She was slumped in the driver’s seat, her head tilted slightly to the left, as if she had been looking at someone in her final moments. The golden silk saree she wore was slightly crumpled, her jewelry still intact—a sign that this was not a robbery.
A single gunshot wound to her right temple had ended her life.
Blood had seeped into the luxurious beige leather seats, a stark contrast to their elegance.
On the passenger seat, a half-empty bottle of red wine lay uncapped.
Raghav’s keen eyes noted the faint stain on her lips—had she been drinking before her death?
"Autopsy will confirm if she was poisoned or drugged," he muttered to himself.
"Sir, no gun in the car," Constable Aman Trivedi said, stepping forward.
Raghav’s jaw clenched.
The murder weapon was missing.
And that meant one thing—whoever killed Ayesha had taken it with them.
The First Clue: The Missing Phone
"Did we find her phone?" Raghav asked.
Aman shook his head. "No, sir. Her handbag is in the backseat, untouched, but the phone is gone."
Raghav exhaled sharply.
Someone had deleted evidence.
"Check the CCTV footage from the main gate. We need to see who entered and left last night."
Aman hesitated. "Sir, the CCTV cameras were disabled at 2:10 AM."
Raghav’s stomach sank.
"Deliberate?"
"Looks like it. The wires were cut."
Someone had carefully planned this murder.
Inside the Shalimar Bungalow
The marble floor of the grand entrance was still littered with remnants of last night’s Diwali party—shattered glasses, half-burnt sparklers, and the faint scent of expensive cologne.
Inside, the air was tense.
A hundred guests had been here just hours ago, drinking, laughing, celebrating. And now, a woman lay dead in a car outside.
Standing near the ornate fireplace, with an unreadable expression, was Rudra Pratap Singh—the host of the party.
At 28, Rudra was one of Lucknow’s most powerful businessmen. His family had political connections, and his name was often seen in society columns next to Bollywood celebrities and high-profile deals.
Yet, despite his wealth and influence, he now found himself at the center of a murder investigation.
"Inspector," Rudra greeted, his voice calm, his dark eyes cold. "A terrible tragedy. But surely, you don’t suspect me?"
Raghav didn’t reply immediately.
Instead, he studied Rudra’s face.
Not a single trace of emotion. No grief. No shock. Only careful control.
"Were you close to Ayesha?" Raghav asked.
Rudra gave a small smile. "We were friends. Nothing more."
"Where were you between 2:30 AM and 3:00 AM?"
"In my room. Alone."
"Convenient," Raghav murmured.
Aman handed Raghav the guest list. The mansion had been full of business tycoons, celebrities, and political figures, but three names stood out:
- Dr. Arjun Mishra (32) – Ayesha’s rumored boyfriend, a renowned surgeon with a calm, calculating personality.
- Megha Saxena (27) – A struggling actress and Ayesha’s closest friend, who had recently had a fallout with her.
- Rudra Pratap Singh (28) – The man with secrets too dangerous to reveal.
One of them knew more than they were saying.
November 3, 2024 | 10:30 AM
Forensic Report – The First Major Revelation
Inside the police forensic lab, a cold silence hung in the air as Raghav read the preliminary autopsy report.
- Time of Death: Between 2:30 AM – 3:00 AM
- Cause of Death: Gunshot wound to the head
- Murder Weapon: A .22 caliber handgun (not found at the scene)
- Toxicology Report: Traces of sedatives in her system
Raghav’s grip on the report tightened.
Ayesha had been drugged before she was killed.
She was not conscious when the trigger was pulled.
This meant that whoever killed her had planned to silence her completely.
And they had done so with precision.
The Biggest Clue Yet: Ayesha’s Last Message
At 11:15 AM, Aman rushed into the forensic office, his face pale.
"Sir… we found Ayesha’s phone."
Raghav snapped his head up. "Where?"
"A drain, two kilometers from the bungalow."
The phone was badly damaged, its screen cracked, but it was still functional.
Aman turned the device on.
There was one unread message sent at 2:30 AM—just minutes before her death.
It was addressed to Rudra Pratap Singh.
Ayesha Rathore: "Meet me at the car. We need to talk. I know the truth."
Raghav’s pulse quickened.
She had found out something that night.
And whatever it was, it got her killed.
November 3, 2024 | 12:30 PM
Confronting Rudra
Raghav and Aman returned to Shalimar Bungalow No. 7, where Rudra was now lounging in the garden, sipping whiskey, as if a woman hadn’t been found murdered outside his home just hours ago.
Raghav wasted no time.
"Mr. Singh, why did Ayesha text you before she died?"
Rudra’s fingers tightened around his glass.
"I wouldn’t know. I didn’t check my phone last night."
Lies.
Ayesha had asked to meet him at her car. And minutes later, she was dead.
"Did you kill her?" Raghav asked, his voice dangerously low.
Rudra smirked. "If I did, do you think I’d be stupid enough to leave the body in my own driveway?"
Raghav narrowed his eyes.
Rudra was hiding something.
And Raghav wouldn’t stop until he found the truth.
-----
Lies and Alibis
November 3, 2024 | 1:00 PM
Shalimar Bungalow No. 7, Lucknow
Inspector Raghav Sharan sat across from Rudra Pratap Singh in the mansion’s grand study room. The walls were lined with mahogany bookshelves, filled more for display than knowledge. A large oil painting of Vikram Pratap Singh, Rudra’s late father, hung above the ornate fireplace. His piercing eyes seemed to watch over the interrogation.
Rudra leaned back in his leather chair, swirling the amber liquid in his whiskey glass. The scent of burnt cigar smoke lingered in the air. He was the perfect image of calm arrogance—unshaken, composed, too careful.
But Raghav knew better. Guilt had a way of revealing itself in the smallest details.
"You expect me to believe that Ayesha messaged you to meet her at her car at 2:30 AM, and you just—what? Slept through it?" Raghav’s voice was sharp, unyielding.
Rudra smirked. "Believe whatever you want, Inspector. I didn’t see that message. I was asleep."
"Convenient. Except the CCTV outside recorded movement near the driveway at 2:35 AM—right after Ayesha’s car arrived. Someone was there."
For the first time, a flicker of tension crossed Rudra’s face.
Raghav pressed harder. "You’re saying that wasn’t you?"
"I don’t know who it was."
"You had over a hundred guests here last night. Who had access to that driveway?"
"Anyone who wanted to leave early," Rudra said.
Raghav studied him. A good liar never over-explains. Rudra was being too careful.
"When was the last time you saw Ayesha alive?"
Rudra exhaled through his nose. "Around 1:30 AM. She was drinking. Laughing. Talking to people. She didn’t seem upset."
"Did she say anything unusual?"
"No."
Another lie.
Raghav pulled out a small evidence bag containing a gold bracelet—one that had been found near the driver’s seat in Ayesha’s car.
"This was found in the car. Belonged to someone who was sitting in the passenger seat before she died."
Rudra’s gaze flickered to it.
Raghav caught it.
"It’s Megha Saxena’s, isn’t it?"
A brief hesitation. Then, a slow smile.
"Why don’t you ask her?"
November 3, 2024 | 2:15 PM
Megha Saxena’s Apartment, Lucknow
Megha Saxena’s apartment was modest compared to Rudra’s mansion, but still expensive for a struggling actress. She answered the door in a white silk robe, her eyes rimmed with smudged kohl, her hair disheveled.
She looked like she hadn’t slept.
Raghav immediately took in the details—a shattered wine glass near the coffee table, a half-smoked cigarette in the ashtray, and a photo frame facedown on the floor.
Someone had thrown it in anger.
"Inspector Sharan," she said, her voice husky. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
Raghav held up the bracelet.
"Recognize this?"
Megha’s eyes darkened. "Where did you find it?"
"In Ayesha’s car."
A slow exhale.
"She must have borrowed it."
"That’s not what we found. There were fingerprints on the passenger seat—someone was sitting there. If it was you, Megha, you were the last person to see her alive."
Silence.
Then—"I didn’t kill her."
Raghav folded his arms. "Then tell me what happened."
Megha hesitated, then spoke.
"Ayesha and I had a fight last night."
"About what?"
"Rudra."
Raghav’s eyes narrowed.
"You were jealous?"
Megha laughed bitterly. "No, Inspector. I was warning her."
"About what?"
Megha’s lips parted, then she hesitated.
"Rudra isn’t who he pretends to be," she finally said. "Ayesha was going to expose something. Something dangerous. That’s why she called him to the car."
Raghav’s pulse quickened.
"Expose what?"
Megha shook her head.
"She never told me. But she was scared, Inspector. And now… she’s dead."
Ayesha knew something.
And someone had made sure she never spoke.
November 3, 2024 | 4:00 PM
Interrogating Dr. Arjun Mishra
Raghav arrived at Divine Care Hospital, where Dr. Arjun Mishra, Ayesha’s rumored boyfriend, was performing surgery.
An hour later, he walked into his office, looking calm, surgical mask still hanging from his neck.
"Inspector," Arjun said, removing his gloves. "I heard about Ayesha. It’s… unbelievable."
"You were dating her?"
Arjun’s expression hardened. "We were close. But things were complicated."
"Complicated how?"
"She was… involved with the wrong people."
Raghav frowned. "You mean Rudra?"
A short pause. Then—"Not just him."
"Explain."
Arjun sat back, rubbing his temples. "Ayesha was investigating something. She wouldn’t tell me what, but she was digging into people’s pasts."
"Did she mention Rudra?"
"Yes. But she was scared of someone else too."
"Who?"
Arjun’s jaw clenched.
"She wouldn’t say. Just that if she found proof, everything would be over."
Ayesha had been playing with fire.
And someone had made sure she got burned.
November 3, 2024 | 6:00 PM
A New Twist
Back at the police station, Raghav studied the evidence board.
Ayesha had messaged Rudra at 2:30 AM.
She had been with Megha before that.
And she had been investigating something dangerous.
As Raghav stared at Ayesha’s last words—"I know the truth."—a chill ran down his spine.
Then—Aman burst into the room, his face pale.
"Sir… new forensic results just came in."
Raghav turned. "What is it?"
Aman swallowed hard.
"The gunshot residue on Ayesha’s hand—it’s wrong."
Raghav frowned. "What do you mean?"
Aman held out the report.
"She wasn’t shot at close range. The angle is wrong. Someone staged it to look like a suicide."
Raghav’s pulse pounded.
The murder was carefully orchestrated.
And now, the real question remained—
Who had the most to lose if the truth came out?
----
The First Arrest
November 3, 2024 | 7:00 PM
Lucknow Police Headquarters
The dim glow of the interrogation room’s flickering tube light cast long shadows on the cracked concrete walls. A single metal table stood at the center, its surface scratched and dented from years of ruthless questioning.
Inspector Raghav Sharan sat at one end, his eyes sharp, unblinking. Across from him, Megha Saxena fidgeted with the hem of her sleeve, her breath uneven.
The air was thick with tension.
Raghav threw a forensic report onto the table. The papers fluttered before settling between them.
"Ayesha wasn’t shot at close range. It was staged," he said coldly.
Megha’s fingers trembled.
"I told you, I didn’t kill her!" she hissed.
"Then why was your bracelet in her car?"
Silence.
Raghav leaned in.
"You were in that passenger seat. You saw something. Or you did something."
Megha’s jaw tightened.
"I didn’t pull the trigger."
"But you were there," Raghav said, voice low.
Megha exhaled shakily.
"Yes… I was there."
A confession.
But not the one he needed.
November 3, 2024 |
5 Hours Before the Murder
The Diwali party at Shalimar Bungalow No. 7 was at its peak. Laughter and music filled the air, expensive champagne flowed, and guests danced beneath the glittering chandeliers.
But in a secluded corner of the garden, away from prying eyes, a storm brewed.
Ayesha Rathore stood face-to-face with Megha Saxena.
"You have to stop this, Ayesha," Megha pleaded. "This isn’t safe."
Ayesha’s eyes burned with determination.
"I found proof, Megha. The whole world will know."
"If you expose him, he won’t let you walk away alive."
"Then let him try."
Ayesha turned to leave.
Megha grabbed her arm.
"Please," she whispered.
Ayesha hesitated for just a second.
Then, she pulled free and disappeared into the crowd.
It was the last time Megha saw her alive.
November 3, 2024 | 8:30 PM
Lucknow Police Headquarters
Raghav folded his arms.
"You tried to stop her," he said. "But you failed. And now, she’s dead."
Megha’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears.
"I wasn’t the only one who wanted her to stay quiet."
"Who else?"
She hesitated.
Then—"Rudra."
Raghav’s eyes darkened.
"What was Ayesha trying to expose?"
Megha shook her head. "I don’t know. But whatever it was, it was dangerous enough to get her killed."
Raghav stood, slamming his hands on the table.
"You were the last person seen with her. That makes you a suspect."
Megha’s face went pale.
"I didn’t kill her, Inspector."
"Then prove it."
Tears finally spilled from her eyes.
"Check the security footage from the club. I was there at the time of the murder. I have an alibi."
Raghav stared at her.
If she was telling the truth, then he was about to arrest the wrong person.
And that meant…
The real killer was still out there.
November 3, 2024 | 9:15 PM
A Shocking Revelation
Back in his office, Raghav ran a hand through his graying hair.
Everything was falling apart.
He needed solid proof.
Just then, Aman Trivedi rushed in, his face pale.
"Sir, we found something on Ayesha’s phone."
Raghav grabbed the file.
It contained a photo, taken minutes before Ayesha’s death.
It showed her sitting in her car.
And standing right outside the driver’s window…
Was Rudra Pratap Singh.
Raghav’s stomach twisted.
"We have him."
November 3, 2024 | 10:00 PM
Shalimar Bungalow No. 7 – Rudra’s Arrest
The mansion’s gates were thrown open as police jeeps screeched to a stop. Officers flooded the grand estate, their boots echoing against the stone pavement.
Raghav walked straight through the garden, past the stunned guests, and into the grand study.
Rudra sat calmly in his leather chair, a glass of whiskey in his hand, as if he had been expecting this moment.
"Inspector," he said, taking a slow sip. "To what do I owe this visit?"
Raghav held up the photo.
"You were the last person to see Ayesha alive."
Rudra smirked.
"That proves nothing."
"You were with her at 2:30 AM."
"So? I spoke to her. And then I left."
Raghav’s patience snapped.
"You had a reason to kill her, Rudra. She was digging up something about you."
Rudra’s face finally darkened.
"You don’t know what you’re playing with, Inspector."
"I know enough to arrest you for murder."
A tense silence.
Then—Rudra set down his glass.
"You’re making a mistake."
"Maybe," Raghav said. "But I don’t think so."
Two officers stepped forward, snapping handcuffs around Rudra’s wrists.
As they led him away, he smiled.
"You’re chasing the wrong ghost, Inspector. The real monster is still out there."
Raghav’s blood ran cold.
Something was wrong.
Had he arrested the wrong man?
-----
Deeper Conspiracy
November 3, 2024 | 11:30 PM
Lucknow Police Headquarters
The holding cell smelled of rusted iron and stale air. The walls were cracked, and the single flickering bulb cast distorted shadows on the floor.
Rudra Pratap Singh sat on the wooden bench inside the cell, his white Armani shirt now slightly wrinkled, but his arrogance remained intact. He leaned back against the cold wall, his lips curling into a smirk as he watched Inspector Raghav Sharan pace outside the bars.
"You look troubled, Inspector," Rudra said, his voice smooth. "Second thoughts?"
Raghav ignored him and placed Ayesha’s forensic report on the table. He had spent the last hour going through every detail again, but something wasn’t sitting right.
He had the evidence, the motive, and the suspect—but it all felt… too neat.
"Tell me something, Rudra," Raghav said, folding his arms. "You claim you met Ayesha at 2:30 AM, then left. So why were you caught on camera still near the crime scene at 2:50 AM?"
Rudra chuckled.
"Ever thought about the possibility that I wasn’t the last person to see her alive?"
Raghav’s jaw clenched.
"Then who was?"
Rudra leaned forward, his eyes gleaming.
"I told you before, Inspector. The real monster is still out there."
A chilling silence hung between them.
Then, Aman Trivedi burst into the room, his face pale.
"Sir… we just found something. And it changes everything."
November 4, 2024 | 12:00 AM
Forensics Lab, Lucknow
Raghav stood over the evidence table, staring at the new report in Aman’s hands.
"We re-examined the crime scene," Aman said, flipping through the pages. "There was something we missed the first time."
He held up a ziplock bag. Inside was a small, broken phone screen.
"We recovered this from beneath Ayesha’s car seat," Aman continued. "It belonged to her personal phone—the one that went missing after her murder."
Raghav’s pulse quickened.
"Can we retrieve anything from it?"
"We tried, but the screen is shattered. However, before it broke, Ayesha made a last call… at exactly 2:48 AM."
Raghav froze.
"To whom?"
Aman swallowed.
"To Dr. Arjun Mishra."
A cold shiver ran down Raghav’s spine.
"And he never mentioned this?"
"No, sir. He claimed he was asleep at that time."
Lies.
The pieces of the puzzle were shifting again.
November 4, 2024 | 12:30 AM
Dr. Arjun Mishra’s Apartment, Lucknow
Raghav banged on the door. The sound echoed in the silent hallway of the upscale apartment complex.
No answer.
He knocked again. Louder.
Still nothing.
Then—a sound.
A faint thud from inside.
Something wasn’t right.
Raghav exchanged a glance with Aman before stepping back and kicking the door open.
The room was dark, but as they flicked on the light, a horrifying sight awaited them.
Dr. Arjun Mishra lay sprawled on the floor, his white lab coat soaked in blood. A gun lay beside him.
A suicide note rested on the table.
Raghav’s heart pounded.
He grabbed the note, his fingers trembling as he read:
"I’m sorry. I couldn’t live with the guilt. I killed Ayesha."
The words sent a chill down his spine.
It was a confession.
Or was it?
Something felt off.
There were no gunpowder burns on Arjun’s hand.
The bullet wound angle was too precise—as if it had been placed deliberately.
Raghav took a deep breath.
"This wasn’t suicide."
Aman swallowed hard. "Then what was it?"
Raghav’s eyes darkened.
"It was a message."
Someone was cleaning up loose ends.
And they had just silenced Arjun.
November 4, 2024 | 3:00 AM
Police Headquarters – War Room
Raghav stared at the evidence board, connecting the dots.
Ayesha was digging into something dangerous.
She was killed before she could reveal it.
Rudra was arrested, but something still felt staged.
And now, Arjun—one of the key players—was wiped out.
Ayesha’s last call wasn’t to Rudra. It was to Arjun.
Meaning she trusted him with something.
And now, he was dead.
Raghav ran a hand over his face.
"Who is pulling the strings?"
The room was silent, save for the faint ticking of the clock.
Then—Aman’s phone buzzed.
He picked it up, his expression shifting from confusion to pure horror.
"Sir… you need to see this."
He placed his phone on the table, pressing play on a video.
The screen flickered to life.
A grainy CCTV recording.
A dark alley.
And a figure stepping into view—face hidden in shadows.
Then, they turned slightly, revealing just enough for Raghav to freeze in shock.
The figure was holding a gun.
And they were walking toward Ayesha’s car… minutes before she was killed.
The face was blurry, but the silhouette, the stance… it was unmistakable.
Raghav’s breath hitched.
"No… it can’t be."
Aman looked at him, his voice barely a whisper.
"Sir… it’s someone from inside our own department."
The room fell into an unnerving silence.
A police officer.
A traitor.
A murderer hiding in plain sight.
-----
A Betrayal in Uniform
November 4, 2024 | 3:30 AM
Lucknow Police Headquarters – War Room
The CCTV footage flickered on the screen, the grainy image sending a cold shiver down Raghav Sharan’s spine.
The figure in the video—the one walking towards Ayesha’s car minutes before her murder—was one of their own.
A police officer.
Raghav’s heartbeat thundered in his ears. He had spent decades in this force, built trust with his team, shared meals, fought battles alongside them. And now…
Someone among them was a traitor.
Aman Trivedi, his young assistant, swallowed hard. “Sir… if this is true, then…”
Raghav clenched his jaw. “Then we are no longer investigating a crime. We are hunting a killer who has been hiding in plain sight.”
Silence.
Then Aman hesitated before asking, “Who do you think it is?”
Raghav exhaled.
"We need to find out before they find us first."
November 4, 2024 | 4:00 AM
Internal Investigation – The List of Suspects
Inside his office, Raghav locked the door. The world outside was silent, but inside his mind, a storm raged.
He grabbed a red marker and circled the names of every officer who had access to Ayesha’s case details.
- ACP Vikrant Singh (34 years in the force)
- Inspector Ravi Tyagi (10 years in the force)
- SI Sandeep Maurya (8 years in the force)
- Constable Rohit Bansal (3 years in the force)
- Head Clerk Manohar Tiwari (25 years in service)
Any one of them could be the mole.
His hands shook slightly.
"One of them betrayed us."
Just then, his landline rang.
The sound shattered the silence, making his pulse quicken.
Raghav picked it up.
"Hello?"
A voice—distorted, low, unrecognizable—whispered:
"You’re digging too deep, Inspector. Back off… or the next body will be yours."
A cold sweat broke across Raghav’s forehead.
The line went dead.
He slowly placed the receiver back down.
He wasn’t just chasing a killer anymore.
The killer was now chasing him.
November 4, 2024 | 5:15 AM
The Ambush
Raghav knew one thing—if the traitor was in uniform, they would try to silence him before he uncovered the truth.
And he was right.
As he drove down a deserted stretch of road, his car headlights flickered—a subtle sign that something was wrong.
Instinct kicked in.
He slammed the brakes just as a black SUV came roaring out of an alleyway, trying to ram him off the road.
Raghav yanked the steering wheel, his car skidding sideways as the SUV sped toward him again.
Gunshots shattered the windshield.
A trap.
Someone had been waiting for him.
Raghav dove out of the car, rolling onto the pavement as the SUV screeched to a stop. The driver stepped out, a figure dressed in black, gun raised.
Raghav fired first.
The attacker dodged, but the bullet grazed their arm—a grunt of pain echoing in the night.
Then, just as suddenly as they had arrived, the figure vanished into the darkness, leaving behind only a trail of blood drops.
Raghav sat on the cold pavement, breathing heavily.
The message was clear.
"I’m getting close."
November 4, 2024 | 6:30 AM
The First Big Clue
Back at headquarters, Aman barged into Raghav’s office, his face pale.
"Sir… we checked the blood sample from the crime scene."
Raghav stood slowly. “And?”
Aman took a deep breath.
"It matches a police officer."
Raghav’s hands clenched into fists.
"Who?"
Aman swallowed.
"Inspector Ravi Tyagi."
For a moment, Raghav couldn’t breathe.
Ravi.
Someone he had worked with for years.
A friend.
A brother in uniform.
And now… possibly a murderer.
November 4, 2024 | 7:00 AM
Confronting the Suspect
The sun was rising over Lucknow as Raghav stood in front of Ravi Tyagi’s house, his gun tucked into his holster.
Aman stood beside him. “Are you sure about this, sir?”
Raghav didn’t answer.
He banged on the door.
Silence.
He banged again. Harder.
This time, the door creaked open.
Ravi stood there—his left arm bandaged, eyes heavy with exhaustion.
Raghav’s blood ran cold.
"You’re hurt," he said, stepping inside.
Ravi’s jaw tightened. "What are you saying, Raghav?"
"I’m saying," Raghav whispered, stepping closer, "that you were shot last night. By me."
A long, tense silence.
Then, Ravi smiled.
"Clever, old man."
And in the next second—he pulled out his gun.
November 4, 2024 | 7:05 AM
A Shocking Betrayal
Ravi Tyagi’s gun was aimed directly at Raghav’s head.
Aman froze, his own weapon half-raised.
"Drop it, Tyagi," Raghav said, voice calm.
"You were always too slow, Raghav," Ravi murmured. "You should’ve walked away."
"Why did you do it?" Raghav asked, his voice softer now. "Was it money? Power?"
Ravi chuckled.
"Neither. I did it because someone had to keep the balance."
"Balance?"
"Ayesha was digging too deep into something dangerous. If she had exposed everything, do you know how many people would’ve died?"
Raghav’s stomach twisted.
"So you killed her?"
"I didn’t pull the trigger," Ravi admitted. "But I made sure she couldn’t talk."
That was it.
A confession.
But before Raghav could react, Ravi lunged forward, trying to grab his gun.
A single gunshot echoed through the house.
Ravi staggered back, blood blooming across his chest.
He collapsed, gasping.
Raghav stepped forward, kneeling beside him.
"Who are you protecting, Ravi?" he whispered.
Ravi smiled, blood on his lips.
"You’ll never reach them, Raghav."
His body went limp.
Dead.
The last loose end—silenced forever.
But Raghav knew the truth now.
Ravi wasn’t the mastermind.
Someone else had ordered Ayesha’s murder.
And they were still out there.
-----
The Mastermind Unmasked
November 4, 2024 | 8:00 AM
Lucknow Police Headquarters – Interrogation Room
The air inside the interrogation room was thick with tension. Raghav Sharan sat alone, staring at the bloodstains on his hands—Ravi Tyagi’s blood.
Even in death, Ravi’s final words echoed in his mind.
"You’ll never reach them, Raghav."
Who was "them"?
Ravi was just a pawn. The real mastermind was still in the shadows.
Aman entered the room, his face grim. “Sir, forensic results came in. Ravi didn’t fire the gun that killed Ayesha. Someone else did.”
Raghav clenched his fists.
"We need to find out who gave the order."
November 4, 2024 | 9:30 AM
Lucknow Crime Branch – Evidence Room
Raghav and Aman dug through Ayesha’s files, looking for anything they might have missed.
Suddenly, Aman froze. “Sir… look at this.”
He handed Raghav an old case file—one Ayesha had been working on before her murder.
It was about a high-profile corruption case.
The suspect?
Commissioner Vikrant Singh.
Raghav’s breath caught in his throat.
"No… it can’t be him."
But the more he read, the clearer the truth became.
Ayesha had uncovered dirty dealings, bribes, and illegal land grabs—all linked to Vikrant Singh.
She was getting too close.
And for that, she had been silenced.
November 4, 2024 | 11:00 AM
Commissioner Vikrant Singh’s Office
Raghav stood in front of Vikrant Singh’s lavish office, his heart pounding.
If Vikrant was behind this, confronting him alone was suicide.
But Raghav had nothing left to lose.
He pushed the door open.
Vikrant sat behind a mahogany desk, sipping tea from a silver-plated cup.
"Ah, Raghav," he said smoothly. "What brings you here?"
Raghav placed Ayesha’s case file on the table.
"You had her killed."
Vikrant smirked, leaning back in his chair.
"That’s a dangerous accusation."
"Not an accusation. A fact."
Vikrant sighed, setting his teacup down. "You’re too stubborn, Raghav. That’s why you never solved any big cases. Always looking in the wrong places."
Raghav clenched his fists. "But not this time."
Vikrant’s smile vanished.
"And what will you do now? Arrest me?"
Raghav stepped forward. "I have proof. Once this goes public, your career is over."
A beat of silence.
Then—Vikrant laughed.
"Oh, Raghav… you still don’t get it, do you?"
He stood up, buttoning his police uniform.
"I don’t fear exposure. You should fear me."
At that moment, the door burst open.
Four armed officers entered, their guns trained on Raghav.
Vikrant’s voice turned cold.
"You shouldn’t have come alone."
Raghav’s heart pounded. He was trapped.
And Vikrant Singh was about to bury the truth forever.
-----
Chapter 8: The Reckoning
November 4, 2024 | 11:05 AM
Lucknow Police Headquarters – Commissioner’s Office
The room smelled of rich wood polish and expensive cigars. A large mahogany desk sat at the center, cluttered with case files, a half-finished glass of whiskey, and a loaded revolver that gleamed under the ceiling light.
Raghav Sharan sat across from Commissioner Vikrant Singh, his wrists bound with tight plastic cuffs. His suit, once pristine, was now wrinkled and stained with blood, the result of a struggle he had barely survived. His face bore cuts and bruises, but his eyes burned with defiance.
Vikrant, dressed in his usual tailored black suit, leaned back in his chair. He picked up the whiskey glass, swirled it, and took a slow sip.
"You should’ve quit while you were ahead, Raghav," he said smoothly.
Raghav ignored the throbbing pain in his temple. He wasn’t here to beg.
"I know you killed Ayesha Verma," he said, his voice firm. "And I have the proof."
Vikrant’s smirk twitched slightly. A flicker of annoyance passed through his otherwise calm demeanor.
"Proof?" Vikrant scoffed. "What proof? Some half-baked theories from an old, washed-up detective?"
Raghav met his gaze, unflinching.
"Bank statements. Call logs. Surveillance footage. And a witness," he said.
Vikrant’s fingers tightened around the whiskey glass.
"You think that matters?" he said, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Do you know how this city works, Raghav? Justice isn’t about truth—it’s about power. And I have all of it."
He snapped his fingers.
Two uniformed officers stepped into the room, their hands resting on their holsters.
"Take him to the warehouse," Vikrant ordered. "Make it look like an accident."
Raghav’s stomach sank.
He was being sent to his death.
November 4, 2024 | 12:15 PM
An Abandoned Warehouse – Outskirts of Lucknow
Raghav’s head throbbed as he was dragged into the warehouse, his shoes scraping against the concrete floor. The room was cold and damp, the air heavy with the stench of oil and rust.
A single lightbulb flickered above, casting eerie shadows across the walls.
Three men stood before him.
- Bhaskar, a towering brute with thick arms and dead eyes, twirled a metal crowbar in his hand.
- Sahil, a slick-haired thug, flicked open a switchblade, its blade catching the dim light.
- Nikhil, the quiet one, held a pistol, checking the bullets with practiced ease.
"This is where your story ends, old man," Bhaskar said, smirking.
Raghav remained silent, watching them closely.
"How do you want to go?" Sahil sneered. "Gunshot? Stabbing? Or a nice, slow drowning?"
Raghav’s mind raced. He had no weapons, no backup. Just his instincts.
He waited.
Sahil stepped forward, aiming the knife at Raghav’s chest.
At the last second, Raghav twisted sharply, throwing his weight to the side.
Sahil stumbled forward, his balance momentarily lost.
Raghav seized the moment.
With all his strength, he drove his knee into Sahil’s gut. The younger man gasped, doubling over. His knife clattered to the ground.
Bhaskar cursed and swung the crowbar.
Raghav ducked, feeling the rush of air as the metal whooshed past his head.
Nikhil raised the gun.
Raghav reacted instantly. He grabbed Sahil’s fallen switchblade and flung it at Nikhil’s hand.
The blade sliced across Nikhil’s fingers, and the gun clattered to the floor.
Raghav lunged, snatching the pistol before Nikhil could recover.
He turned the gun on Bhaskar and fired.
A single shot hit Bhaskar in the leg, making him howl in pain as he collapsed onto the floor.
Sahil, still wheezing, tried to crawl away.
Raghav grabbed him by the collar and slammed him against the wall.
"Tell Vikrant Singh," he growled, "I’m coming for him."
Then, with the pistol still clenched in his bloody hands, Raghav walked out of the warehouse into the cold, unforgiving streets of Lucknow.
November 4, 2024 | 1:00 PM
Secret Meeting – Old Lucknow
Raghav moved swiftly through the narrow alleys of Chowk, avoiding the busy main roads. Every police officer in Lucknow would soon be searching for him.
At a small chai stall, Aman was waiting.
The young journalist’s eyes widened when he saw Raghav’s injured state.
"Sir! You’re hurt—"
"Forget that," Raghav cut in. "Do you have the files?"
Aman nodded and pulled out a small USB drive.
"This has everything," he whispered. "Bank transactions, call logs, and a leaked video of Vikrant’s meeting with Ayesha’s killers."
Raghav took the drive, gripping it tightly.
"We need to go public. Right now."
Aman hesitated, then showed Raghav his phone screen.
A live news broadcast was playing.
On the screen, Vikrant Singh stood at a press conference, speaking into multiple microphones.
"It is with great regret," Vikrant announced, "that we have uncovered deep-rooted corruption within our ranks. Former Inspector Raghav Sharan has been found guilty of tampering with evidence and obstructing justice. A warrant for his arrest has been issued."
Raghav felt his blood turn to ice.
"He’s framing you," Aman whispered.
Raghav’s grip on the USB tightened.
"Then we’ll crash that press conference."
November 4, 2024 | 3:00 PM
Lucknow Press Club – The Final Confrontation
The press hall was packed with reporters, their cameras flashing as Vikrant continued his speech.
"Raghav Sharan has betrayed this department," Vikrant declared. "He is dangerous and must be apprehended immediately."
The doors slammed open.
The room fell silent.
Raghav stood at the entrance, Aman beside him.
In his hand, he held up the USB drive.
Vikrant’s face darkened.
"The real betrayal," Raghav said, his voice carrying through the hall, "is standing right in front of you."
Aman rushed to the media booth and plugged the USB into the live broadcast system.
On the giant screen behind Vikrant, the leaked video played.
The room erupted in chaos.
Reporters screamed. Cameras flashed uncontrollably.
Vikrant’s calm façade crumbled.
And then—he ran.
November 4, 2024 | 3:15 PM
Lucknow Police Headquarters – The Final Chase
Vikrant sped through the city in his black Audi, but Raghav was right behind him in a police jeep.
Near a narrow bridge, Raghav saw his chance.
He slammed the jeep into Vikrant’s car.
The Audi spun out of control, crashing into a street pole.
Vikrant staggered out, bleeding.
Raghav approached, gun raised.
"It’s over, Vikrant."
Vikrant laughed bitterly.
"You’ll never reach them all," he whispered.
Then—he reached into his coat.
Raghav fired.
The bullet hit Vikrant’s chest.
The Commissioner collapsed, his reign of terror finally over.
But as Raghav looked down at the dying man, he felt it in his gut.
This wasn’t over yet.
Shadows of the Past
November 4, 2024 | 4:30 PM
Lucknow Police Headquarters – Commissioner’s Office
The news of Vikrant Singh’s death spread through the city like wildfire. The once-powerful Commissioner of Lucknow Police had been exposed and gunned down in a desperate attempt to flee justice.
Inside the headquarters, officers murmured among themselves, their faces a mixture of shock and uncertainty. The city’s entire law enforcement system had been shaken to its core.
Raghav Sharan sat in the Commissioner’s chair, staring at the bullet-ridden photograph of Vikrant on the desk. His hands trembled slightly—not from fear, but from something far worse.
Emptiness.
He had chased justice for years, fought against the corruption that had destroyed his career, and now, after everything, it still didn’t feel like a victory.
Aman entered the office, shutting the door behind him.
"Sir, it’s all over the news. The video, the bank transactions—it’s undeniable proof. The Home Ministry has ordered an internal audit of the entire department."
Raghav nodded slowly.
"And what about Vikrant’s allies?"
Aman hesitated.
"That’s the problem, sir." He placed a sealed file on the desk. "Vikrant wasn’t working alone. Someone was backing him."
Raghav’s eyes narrowed as he opened the file. Inside were classified documents—financial records, offshore accounts, names of high-profile individuals connected to Vikrant’s illegal dealings.
At the top of the list was a name that made Raghav’s blood run cold.
"Rajiv Malhotra."
Aman watched his reaction.
"You know him, don’t you?"
Raghav exhaled sharply.
"He was my best friend."
November 4, 2024 | 5:00 PM
Rajiv Malhotra’s Estate – Gomti Nagar, Lucknow
Rajiv Malhotra was a name that commanded fear and respect in Lucknow’s elite circles. A renowned business tycoon, he owned luxury hotels, real estate, and had deep political connections.
But to Raghav, he was more than just a businessman.
He was the man who had stood beside him at his wedding. The man who had helped him when his wife passed away.
The man who, for years, had been manipulating the very system Raghav had fought to protect.
Raghav pulled up outside Rajiv’s sprawling estate, gripping his gun tightly. He could feel it now—the final piece of the puzzle falling into place.
Rajiv hadn’t just funded Vikrant’s operations. He had orchestrated everything from the shadows, using Vikrant as his puppet.
A security guard approached the car.
"Sir, you can’t—"
Raghav stepped out, gun raised.
"Tell Rajiv his past has caught up with him."
The guard hesitated, then slowly backed away.
The grand doors of the Malhotra Mansion loomed ahead.
This was it.
The real mastermind was waiting inside.
And Raghav was going to finish what he started.
-----
The Final Betrayal
November 4, 2024 | 5:15 PM
Rajiv Malhotra’s Estate – Gomti Nagar, Lucknow
The double doors of Rajiv Malhotra’s mansion loomed ahead, their intricate carvings glinting under the golden evening light. The estate was eerily silent, the luxury cars parked neatly in the driveway, untouched by the chaos outside.
Raghav stepped forward, gun in hand, his heart pounding. Every step felt heavier. This was no ordinary suspect—Rajiv Malhotra had once been his closest friend.
Two armed guards stood by the entrance, eyeing him warily.
"I need to see Rajiv," Raghav demanded.
The guards exchanged glances, hesitant.
Before they could react, a voice called out from the balcony above.
"Let him in."
Raghav looked up.
Rajiv Malhotra stood there, dressed in a crisp white kurta-pajama, a glass of expensive Scotch in his hand. His expression was calm, but his eyes held something darker—resignation, or perhaps a challenge.
The guards stepped aside.
Raghav entered.
November 4, 2024 | 5:30 PM
Inside the Lion’s Den
The interior of the mansion was breathtaking—chandeliers, marble floors, walls adorned with paintings worth millions. But to Raghav, it felt suffocating.
Rajiv led him to a private study, its walls lined with books and an antique liquor cabinet in one corner.
"Would you like a drink?" Rajiv asked, pouring himself another.
"Enough games, Rajiv," Raghav said, his voice cold. "I know everything."
Rajiv took a sip, then sighed.
"I always knew you’d find out," he admitted. "It was only a matter of time."
Raghav slammed the USB drive onto the table.
"You funded Vikrant Singh. You covered up Ayesha Verma’s murder. You were behind all of it."
Rajiv set his glass down, his fingers tapping the rim lightly.
"And what will you do now, Raghav?" he asked. "Arrest me? Kill me?"
Raghav hesitated.
This wasn’t just a criminal. This was his best friend, the man who had been there for him when no one else was.
Rajiv saw the hesitation and smiled sadly.
"You still believe in justice, don’t you?" he murmured. "Even after everything."
Raghav tightened his grip on the gun.
"Justice isn’t just about belief, Rajiv. It’s about doing what’s right."
Rajiv exhaled, running a hand through his greying hair.
"Do you know why I did it, Raghav?"
Raghav remained silent.
"Because the system is broken," Rajiv continued. "You spent years trying to fix it, but what did you get? A ruined career. A shattered reputation. You were humiliated, thrown aside like garbage. I chose power because it’s the only thing that matters."
Raghav’s jaw clenched.
"You chose greed, Rajiv. You betrayed everything we once stood for."
For the first time, a flicker of guilt crossed Rajiv’s face. But it was gone in an instant.
"And now?" Rajiv asked. "What happens now, Raghav?"
Raghav took a deep breath.
"You confess. Publicly. You name every politician, every officer involved. And then you surrender."
Rajiv laughed softly.
"You really think I’d do that?"
Raghav cocked the gun.
"I think you don’t have a choice."
Rajiv’s expression darkened.
"I always have a choice, old friend."
Before Raghav could react, Rajiv reached into his drawer—but Raghav was faster.
BANG!
The gunshot echoed through the room.
Rajiv staggered backward, clutching his bleeding chest, his eyes filled with shock… and understanding.
He collapsed onto his luxurious Persian carpet, his breath shallow.
"You… never… stopped fighting, did you?" he whispered.
Raghav knelt beside him, his face a mask of pain.
"I wish you had chosen differently, Rajiv."
Rajiv smiled weakly.
"Maybe in another life… we were on the same side."
His eyes fluttered shut, and the empire of Rajiv Malhotra crumbled in that very moment.
November 4, 2024 | 6:00 PM
Lucknow Police Headquarters – Final Report
The mansion was swarming with police officers as Raghav walked out, his gun still warm in his hand. Reporters crowded outside, shouting questions.
Aman rushed up to him.
"Sir, the media has everything now. Rajiv’s death, his confession—his entire network is being dismantled."
Raghav nodded, but his heart felt heavy.
For years, he had fought to solve a case, to prove himself. Now, at the end of it all, he realized something.
Justice had a price.
And tonight, he had paid it in full.
-----
Epilogue: The Unfinished Story
Raghav sat alone in his small one-bedroom apartment, staring at the old police badge in his hands.
The city had hailed him as a hero. The department had even offered him his job back.
But he knew better.
Heroes didn’t walk away with blood on their hands.
He placed the badge on the table and poured himself a drink.
Somewhere in the distance, the city lights flickered.
The case was closed.
But Raghav Sharan’s story was far from over.
Comments
Post a Comment