The third day dawned with a pale haze blanketing Mumbai, the sun struggling to push through the smog like a truth clawing for air. Dushiant Rajput—still cloaked in the identity of Parth Bhardwaj—stood by the window of his rented apartment, sipping on bitter black coffee. His eyes, steeled and calculating, traced invisible lines across the city skyline. Every move now had to count. Every action had to push the pawn further across the board. He wasn't just here to play the game. He was here to win it, no matter the cost.
Inside Saksham Industries, the morning bustle echoed like a hive on overdrive. Keyboards clacked, heels clicked, and filtered laughter floated through the polished halls. Dushiant walked through the corridors, sharply dressed and perfectly rehearsed. The briefcase in his hand carried not just forged documents and ID cards, but secrets. Secrets he planned to trade for justice.
At the HR division, Ravi Tripathi was already at his desk, sipping tea and staring a little too long at one of the new interns passing by. Dushiant noted the gesture—the slow lift of Ravi's eyebrows, the inappropriate smirk. Disgust tightened in his chest.
"Good morning, Ravi sir," Dushiant greeted, voice calm.
Ravi didn't even look at him. "Hmm," he muttered, scrolling through his screen. "You'll take care of the onboarding reports today. And sort the complaints folder."
Dushiant's interest piqued. "Complaints?"
Ravi yawned. "Yeah, all those useless reports about harassment or ethics violations. Just scan and archive. Nothing important."
That was all the confirmation Dushiant needed.
As he walked away with the reports folder under his arm, he made sure to glance at the layout of Ravi's office again. Two computers. One, a sleek monitor used for basic office work. The other, tucked in the corner, locked by fingerprint. That was where Ravi likely kept the files—the real ones. And that was where Ranjan's folder, encrypted and hidden, waited for him.
But access required patience. And patience required proximity.
**
He spent the day moving subtly. Smiling when needed. Asking the right questions to the right people. Learning names, identifying allies, spotting weaknesses. Among the female employees, there was a quiet fear when Ravi's name came up. Some avoided the lunch room when he was there. Others shifted uncomfortably if asked.
During the break, he found himself in the cafeteria next to a quiet young woman named Kavya, who worked in administration.
"You're Parth, right?" she asked.
"Yes," he said, smiling just enough. "Third day."
"You'll learn soon enough," she said with a forced laugh, "this place has its own monsters."
He kept his voice light. "You mean corporate politics?"
She shook her head. "I mean Ravi. Stay out of his way. Don't get too friendly with the women here. He doesn't like competition."
That was more than Dushiant expected.
Back at his desk, he logged into the system and began scanning archived complaint reports. Most were anonymous. Some detailed inappropriate remarks, others described bribes exchanged for job security or promotions. None had follow-up actions attached. He flagged a few of them under a dummy label to revisit later.
At exactly 4 PM, he watched Ravi leave the office to attend a board coordination meeting. The moment the hallway cleared, Dushiant moved. He stepped into Ravi's cabin and scanned the room in seconds.
The backup desktop was standard. No biometric locks. He slid in a USB loaded with a stealth data-cloning program. Within seconds, the system's contents were being mirrored.
Dushiant's fingers flew across the keyboard as he disabled the antivirus and rooted through the drives. Most folders were garbage. But then he found one titled "Confidential_Backup_19_Archive."
He opened it. And there it was—a folder named 'Ranjan Internal.'
Encrypted. He copied it immediately.
Just then, a shadow shifted near the hallway. Dushiant ejected the USB, wiped all traces of intrusion, and returned to his desk just as Ravi re-entered the office.
Ravi narrowed his eyes. "What were you doing in my cabin?"
"Needed the stationery. Mine was out," Dushiant replied smoothly, holding up a box of pens.
Ravi grunted. "Next time, ask."
"Yes, sir."
**
That night, in his apartment, Dushiant cracked open the cloned files. The encryption was dense but no match for him. As the digital locks peeled away, he saw reports. Internal memos. Documents that had Ranjan's name tied to several sensitive projects, including restructuring strategies Saksham had vetoed months before his death. But something was off.
Dates had been altered. Digital signatures mismatched. It looked as if the documents were planted—perhaps forged to implicate Ranjan if needed. Dushiant had seen this play before. Someone higher up was keeping these files ready as blackmail.
It made sense now. Ravi was a collector. Not a planner. Someone was feeding him ammunition, and he was holding it as leverage.
Ravi wasn't just corrupt. He was a vault. And someone had given him the keys.
**
The next morning, Dushiant began his new strategy—get closer to Ranjan.
He timed his lunch break to match Ranjan's schedule. He made sure he lingered by the elevators, offered subtle insights during group meetings. Ranjan noticed.
"You said you used to work with a digital firm?" he asked after a boardroom interaction.
"Yes, sir," Dushiant replied. "Analytics and systems optimization. We dealt with restructuring HR operations."
Ranjan nodded. "Interesting. You should visit our IT floor sometime. We're expanding digital compliance."
That was a doorway. A small one. But enough.
**
Back at HR, Ravi was again up to his antics. This time, he shouted at a junior analyst for printing the wrong report. Then later, Dushiant saw him lean too close to a woman named Tanya, who recoiled visibly.
That evening, Dushiant approached Tanya carefully.
"You okay?" he asked.
She hesitated. "It's nothing."
"I know how this sounds," he said quietly, "but if there's something going on, I can help."
She looked at him for a long second, then shook her head. "Just stay safe. He's not as stupid as he seems. He records things. Keeps files."
Another confirmation. Ravi was preparing for war, even if he didn't know who the real enemy was yet.
**
By the time the day ended, Dushiant had a new plan. He needed to break Ravi's image internally, but not all at once. The files would help, but so would whispers. Doubt. A misfiled complaint. A public mistake. Something that would begin to unwind Ravi's grip on the department.
For now, though, he placed the Ranjan folder into an encrypted cloud drive and shredded the USB. His board was being set.
Ravi was no longer just a roadblock.
He was bait.
To be continued...