The piercing wail of sirens cut through the chaos of the petrol station. Moments later, two police SUVs rolled in and stopped with a sharp screech.
Inspector Neerav Pandey stepped out first, adjusting his belt over his oversizedbelly.
His eyes swept across the scene — broken batons scattered on the ground, groaning attendants, curious customers filming from a safe distance, a battered old man, and standing calmly at the center of it all like he owned the place… Rohit Singhania.
Neerav closed his eyes and rubbed his temples.
"Oh God… why does trouble always find this particular bastard?"
The ASI beside him coughed awkwardly. "Sir… people are watching."
Neerav instantly straightened his posture, plastering on a professional expression. "Of course they are."
His sharp eyes scanned the growing crowd. Dozens of phones were recording. A high-profile heir was involved. Public violence. Multiple injured parties.
This wasn't just a case.
This was an opportunity.
