Heeriye

Thirty one.

Sidharth

Keeping my family begins here.

For starters, that name's got to go. It stinks of shoddy reporting and lowbrow paparazzi. Considering Ranjhit has a tiny cubicle down the hall, that about confirms it. This building is gonna need a fucking makeover, too.

I don't plan on coming here often, but when I do, I want somewhere to sit that doesn't erupt with cockroaches the moment my ass touches the chair.
There's a tentative knock on my door and then the portly assistant whose name I've already forgotten pokes her head inside.

"Sir? He's here. Should I send him in?"

I smile. It's a day for genuine grins. Things are happening now that should've happened a long, long time ago. "Please."

She holds the door open and Ranjhit walks in looking extremely confused. His confusion transforms to shock when he sees me sitting at the desk that, only last evening, belonged to someone else entirely. His nostrils flare with panic when the door snaps closed behind him. He looks around the barren office like I might have goons here ready to beat him senseless.

No need. I can do that myself.

"W-where's Hrishant?"

I cock my legs and lean back in the rickety chair. "Hirshant? I don't know a hirshant. Unless... Oh! Of course. Silly me. Do you mean Hirshant Malik, publisher and editor-in-chief of The Mumbai Gazette? That hirshant?"

He bares his teeth at me. "Yes.That hirshant. What have you done to him?"

I take the name plaque that sits obnoxiously at the front of the table. I observe it with interest for a moment before I toss it in the trash can."So many things to get rid of..." I muse under my breath.

But I'll start with the biggest piece of trash in front of me.

"I'll call security," Ranjhit blurts.

I laugh at that one. "And tell them what?"

"That you've abducted our publisher and... and done God knows what to him!" His fingers are trembling, as is his lip. His skin has lost what little color he had left. He looks like a walking ghost.

Soon, he's going to be a real one.

"There's no reason to involve God," I scold. "You can just ask me what I've done to him. Or you could ask the board, too. They know what happened to hirshant Malik as well."

Ranjhit's eyes go wide as his tiny little brain finally starts putting all the pieces together. "T-there's been talk the last few days. Talk of a... b-buyer for the paper..."

I didn't think it was possible for a person to be any paler. Ranjhit has taught me one thing today, at least.

I spread my arms wide to encompass this whole godforsaken building. "Welcome to my newspaper, Mr. Ranjhit."

He balks. "No. No! It's not possible. It's too fast. It's—"

"Done," I growl. "It's already fucking done. Of course I had to pay a little extra to get Hirshant out of my seat so fast but when you have money like I do, what's an extra million or two between friends?"

He looks like he's going to be sick.

"If you're about to throw up, aim for the window," I order. "This office smells bad enough as it is."

"Y-you can't do this."

I shrug. "I already have. I am the official owner ofThe Mumbai gazette. That name's going the same way Hirshant went, by the way. As a matter of fact—everything is going."