The Tycoon's Odyssey

Vishal hesitated, his eyes darting between them. "Also… there is another thing. It's vague, but… I remember overhearing something years ago. Someone mentioned the Thompsons weren't just another family. They were placed at the top as soon as they came to the limelight. Almost like a deal was made to put them there. But no one talked about who made the deal—or why. It was always kept hush-hush."

"Maybe too many things happened behind the scenes that we aren't aware of but all I can say is that the moment they appeared they were made the head of the Federation without any sign of resistance from others or who knows if the ones who tried to resist were silenced."

Suri's eyes widened slightly, and she leaned forward. "Placed? By whom?"

"I don't know," Vishal admitted, shaking his head. "That's all I had heard. It was just a passing comment, but it stuck with me because it sounded so… strange. Almost like they didn't earn their position the way other families did."

Evan's jaw tightened, and his gaze turned icy. "Interesting," he murmured. "So they're not what they seem."

Suri leaned back in her seat, her fingers drumming lightly on the armrest. "If that's true, it explains a lot. But it also raises more questions. Why them? And what kind of power would it take to put them at the top without anyone challenging it—or silence anyone who tried to?"

Evan stood abruptly, his expression unreadable. "We'll find out," he said flatly. Then he turned to Suri. "Keep an eye on your father. Ask what he knows. But tread carefully."

Suri nodded. "I'll do what I can."

Evan's gaze shifted back to Vishal. "And you," he said coldly. "If you remember anything else… you tell me. Immediately."

Vishal nodded quickly, his earlier confidence wavering under Evan's sharp stare.

The room fell silent again as Evan turned and walked toward the window, his mind clearly racing. Whatever was going on with the Thompsons, it certainly sounded interesting and was far from ordinary.

'Maybe, it's time for me to speed up the intergalactic tech development," he muttered to himself.

_____

In Dilli…

A massive crowd had gathered outside the courthouse. The area was buzzing with a sea of angry voices, people jostling each other to get a better view. Placards with slogans like "Corrupt Scum!" and "Justice for the People!" were held high. The atmosphere was tense, filled with outrage and disdain.

The roar of vehicles cut through the noise as a police convoy arrived, surrounded by officers armed to the teeth. Cameras flashed, capturing every moment as the doors of one of the vans opened, revealing a group of shacked individuals, their faces grim. Leading the group was Amit, a disgraced former minister whose crimes had come to light in a public scandal.

The moment Amit appeared, the crowd erupted.

"There he is! The thief!" someone yelled.

"How much money did you steal from us, huh?" another bellowed.

"Rot in jail, you scoundrel!" a woman screamed, her voice filled with venom.

Amit tried to keep his head low, but the relentless wave of curses and accusations was unavoidable.

"You destroyed families for your greed!"

"Shame on you!"

Suddenly, something struck his face, making him stumble backwards. As he steadied himself, he realized it was a tomato. More things followed—eggs, rotten vegetables, and anything the crowd could get their hands on. The barrage didn't stop, and the officers barely flinched, clearly used to such public outrage.

The police surrounding him tried to raise the shield and protect him but all their efforts were in vain as instead they were caught in a crossfire.

"Enough!" Amit yelled hysterically, his voice cracking. "I'm innocent! I didn't do anything wrong!"

The crowd's fury only seemed to grow louder at his protests. "Liar! You think we'll believe you now?"

"It's a scam!" Amit shouted desperately, his voice rising above the chaos. "A big scam orchestrated by the government!" He opened his mouth to say more, to name Evan and expose what he believed to be the truth, but his words caught in his throat.

His lips moved, but no sound came out. His eyes widened in shock. He tried again, pushing harder to speak out the words in his mind, but the result was the same.

A barely audible gasp echoed from his throat.

A sudden realization hit him, making his heart sink. Whatever Evan's people had done to him before his arrest had ensured that he won't be able to say a word about Evan or anything related to him.

Desperation clawed at Amit as he tried another tactic. "Mahajan!" he began, hoping to implicate others. But again, no words came. It was as though his thoughts were blocked, severed from his ability to speak. His mouth went dry, and cold sweat formed on his forehead.

"Move it!" barked a police officer, shoving Amit forward. "What are you standing around for? Start walking! We don't have all day."

Behind Amit, more shackled figures followed—ministers from various departments, dragged into the courthouse for judgment. While the heads of the major departments had somehow evaded capture, almost every minor official who had played a role in the corruption scheme was present.

The crowd's anger didn't waver. "You've all ruined this country!" a man screamed.

"You think you're above the law? Not anymore!"

Mothers in the crowd held their children close, shouting at the officials. "You stole food from their mouths!"

"You'll pay for this—every single one of you!"

The group of disgraced ministers, now completely humiliated, kept their heads down. Some looked ashamed of their actions, others defiant, but none dared speak. Each step they took toward the courthouse felt heavier under the weight of the public's scorn.

Amit's face, smeared with tomato pulp and eggs, twisted in frustration and despair. He glanced back briefly at the crowd, but their piercing gazes sent shivers down his spine. The realization dawned on him—he was utterly trapped, unable to speak his truth, and forced to face the wrath of both the law and the people.

_____

The courtroom was packed, tension so thick that it was almost suffocating. Reporters scribbled furiously, cameras clicked, and murmurs rippled through the audience as the judge entered. Everyone rose to their feet in unison, the air heavy with anticipation.

Amit and the other disgraced ministers sat in the dock, their shackles clinking softly. Their faces were pale, stripped of their bravado. Some looked resigned, others, defiant. All of them knew the gravity of the moment.