The Zohra Project

CAST & PROLOGUE

Author's Note- Hey guys, First thanks so much for peeping into this book.

💥IMPORTANT: NO PART OF THIS BOOK CAN BE COPIED, PUBLISHED, OR USED ANYWHERE, ALL THE ABOVE ARE LEGALLY PUNISHABLE OFFENCES.💥

And, The chapters are going to be long. So please hang in there till the end.
This is a mafia romance, Involving journalists and mafia.
Don't forget to vote. And comment.

💟 CAST

Parineeti Chopra as- Naina Parker. An Investigative Journalist.

Aditya Roy Kapoor as - Asher/Ash. An IT Tycoon.

Kartik Aaryan as Samrat Sawant, a photo journalist

Krystle Dsouza as Ruhana Shetty

Vaibhav Talwar as Zain Abbas And others.

***

PROLOGUE

High up in one of the many conference halls in 'Gigabit', a high profile meeting is underway.

Suited gentlemen belonging to the firm are assembled around the shiny conference table. Assistants, managers, and a few others are seated in several rows a little distance away, each one alert and in business mode.

The lights in the hall have been dimmed out. It's dark, but everyone's focus is still intact-- held together by the presentation that's in progress at the far end of the room.

One of the members from the collab team is raving on and on about the all new innovative 'coding' their team has come up with, coding that's written fully in Python.

'Impressive. Machine learning and Artificial Intelligence are still going to be the next revolution in the IT world.'

Asher contemplates while watching the presentation with a satisfied smile on his lips. Just then his phone giving a tiny, inaudible beep, and that gives him a pause.

A slight frown creates a ripple across his features. From his position in his executive chair at the head of the panel, he twists his head, and casts a sideway glance at his smartphone.

The gleamy black device sitting atop the wood has its screen lit up now. Someone sent him a text.

Normally, Asher Neves wouldn't reach for his phone. Normally, he wouldn't read any incoming texts in such circumstances, but somehow he does it today.

One swipe is all it takes, one quick glance, and he knows this is not usual business.

It's something else entirely. And he's got no time to waste.

Shooting up from his chair, Asher breaks into a run.

Collective gasps, shouts of confusion can be heard from the room he's just left behind, but there's no time to look back. No time for explanations, or apologies.

And it doesn't matter that his pristine suit is getting all crumpled up. It doesn't matter that some of his employees loitering in the hallways are gawping at him as he runs.

He arrives at the elevators, his fingers already hitting the buttons as his feet skid to a halt.

Ten seconds. He only waits for ten seconds and no more. The elevator doesn't show up, so he dashes down the stairs.

His office might be on the top floor of a really tall building, but his haste gets him out to the exit gate in less than a minute.

He's slightly frazzled, though, and a little out of breath, but he's still determined to move ahead.

He thinks he's alone. But the sound of hurried footsteps behind his back come as a surprise.

Not much of a surprise, though, since he knows well who they belong to. Only one person can follow him out like this... Zain!

Ignoring the shouts echoing behind his back, Asher takes off running again-- along the busy streets of Mumbai.

Those familiar footfalls, however, never stop chasing him, neither do the shouts.

Asher glances back once. There's Zain-- looking like he's had a hard time coming so far. The poor guy had taken the stairs too, and he's a little out of breath from all the running.

Even so, he yells again--

"Ash! Listen, stop! We can take the car! I'll bring the car!"

But Asher doesn't stop. Which only means that Zain can not stop.

Over the time, Zain's shouts become distant, unheard over the traffic, and eventually the yelling stops altogether.

***

The two men come to a stop outside a posh villa, luxurious enough to be called a CEO's home.

Zain pauses just outside the place, so he can catch his breath.

Asher dashes in, past the gates and into the house.

A quick detour from the living room gives him access to a door to the basement, to his underground 'emergency safe dungeons' filled with the bare minimum essentials, the space that's put to use only on certain occasions.

Dungeons don't mean that someone is being imprisoning, but they are rather secretive, almost like a haven, away from the hustle bustle of the otherwise noisy, chaotic world.

Right now, his usually serene haven is now abuzz with voices. Voices belonging to several men that make him pause in his tracks for one long moment. That text message-- He's already been informed of this. He's prepared for this.

Taking a long, deep breath, Asher plunges into the room. Zain enters next. The man has caught up with him now, and now is just a step behind.

Quiet falls over the occupants of room as they spot the two new men.

The air is dank, despite the premises being neat. The lighting is dim, and the mood is melancholy despite the earlier buzzing.

Asher doesn't speak. His eyes however, are now trained on a sleeping figure lying on the bed, a few feet away.

His father!?

Slowly, very slowly, Asher walks closer. Pulling a stool next to the bed, he sits quietly, staring at his old man.

A sigh of relief escapes his lips when he sees that his father is actually breathing.

But what happened? Who in the world? Who in the world can do this to his Abbajaan?!

Asher looks around the room, shoulders tense. The tension inside the room is palpable.

No one dares to speak, but then one rowdy youth opens his mouth and continues to hurl insults at the person responsible for the deed.

"That woman! How dare she?" the youth rages on, "Bhaijaan, just give us a word. We'll...."

Asher raises a hand in the air, causing the youth to fall silent.

Bhaijaan... being addressed as 'bhaijaan' is an honour. And it's been a few years since he's earned that honour. And seriously, did a mere woman harm his Abbajaan?

Asher turns his gaze back to his old man. His eyes never leaving his father, he asks, "Who's she?"

The youth hesitates before saying the name-- "Naina Parker."