Chapter 032: The Silent Ally
It had been weeks since the fire that consumed the Baig estate, but the image still echoed in Zara's dreams—flames licking the walls of a house built on secrets. And now, standing in the office of her newly launched foundation Rang-e-Nau, she felt that old life drifting further and further away.
A team of young women worked busily around her—survivors, warriors, fighters like herself. The foundation aimed to offer not just legal aid, but emotional support and vocational training to victims of financial and emotional abuse. A new dawn was rising, and Zara was leading the charge.
Ryan entered the office with a gentle knock and an envelope in hand.
"Special delivery," he said, waving it.
Zara raised a brow. "Who still sends letters?"
He shrugged. "No name. No return address. Just this." He handed it over and left her alone to read.
Zara opened the envelope carefully. Inside was a single sheet of paper with a message typed in a clean serif font:
"You lit the match. Now let me be your shadow. — Z"
Her fingers trembled slightly. "Z?"
The memory flickered—Zayan.
Years ago, Zayan Rauf had been a family friend—her father's closest business associate. Charming, intelligent, and dangerously quiet. She hadn't seen him since she exposed the Baig empire. He'd disappeared during the trial, his name never once mentioned in court documents.
Was he helping from the shadows all along?
She turned the letter over. On the back was an address: a small apartment complex on the outskirts of Lahore. No date. No instructions. Just a location.
Later That Night – The Address
Zara stood outside the iron gate, uncertain. The air was thick with humidity and tension. She pressed the buzzer. No response. She waited. Then the gate creaked open—on its own.
Inside, the hallway was dimly lit. A man stepped out of the shadows.
Zayan.
His face was leaner, a short beard tracing his jaw, eyes sharp as ever. But they weren't cold. Not tonight.
"You came," he said simply.
"You sent for me."
"I never stopped watching over you."
Zara folded her arms. "Why hide all this time?"
Zayan sighed. "Because the game your father played didn't end with his arrest. There are others—his allies, his enemies. You set the fire, Zara. Now the smoke is drawing attention."
She narrowed her eyes. "Are you saying I'm in danger again?"
He stepped closer. "Not just you. Rang-e-Nau… it's shaking old foundations. And someone is already trying to silence it."
Zara inhaled sharply. "Who?"
Zayan looked out the window, voice low. "Someone worse than your father. And unlike him, they don't want control. They want chaos."
The room fell silent after Zayan's ominous warning. Zara felt a familiar chill crawl up her spine—the same one that had haunted her when she first uncovered the financial crimes of her father. But this was different. This was deeper. More dangerous.
"Who is it?" she asked, voice steady despite the storm within.
Zayan didn't answer immediately. Instead, he walked to a shelf and pulled out a dusty file, dropping it onto the table between them. "This," he said, "is what I've been building for the last year. A map of names, businesses, offshore accounts—all linked back to your father's true circle."
Zara flipped through it, her eyes widening with each page. Politicians, industrialists, foreign investors—some of them household names. One name made her stop cold.
Faisal Dar.
"He's a philanthropist," she whispered. "He donated to my foundation launch."
Zayan gave a grim nod. "And he's the one orchestrating your downfall. Slowly. Quietly. He's the reason three of your major donors pulled out this week."
Zara's jaw tightened. "Why?"
"Because he thrives in silence. If your foundation uncovers the scale of abuse tied to financial manipulation in elite families, it could destroy him."
Zara sank into a chair. The weight of it all settled on her shoulders. "So what do we do?"
Zayan met her eyes. "We fight from the inside."
Back at Rang-e-Nau Headquarters
Ryan was waiting when Zara returned, worry written across his face.
"Where were you?" he asked.
"I was meeting a ghost," she replied.
Ryan's brows drew together. "Zayan?"
She nodded and handed him a USB drive. "This has everything. Names, connections, motives."
Ryan inserted it into his laptop and watched as the screen filled with spreadsheets, scanned documents, and confidential correspondences. "This is massive."
Zara looked around her office, suddenly aware of how exposed they were. "We need to protect the girls. And the foundation. We can't let this crumble."
Ryan looked up, his gaze fierce. "Then we go public. Carefully. Selectively. We leak just enough to let them know—we know."
Zara exhaled, a plan forming. "We start with Dar. One article. One voice. A whisper that turns into a roar."
Ryan nodded. "And what about Zayan?"
Zara hesitated. "He stays in the shadows. For now."
Elsewhere, in Faisal Dar's Estate
Faisal sat by the fire, a glass of whiskey in hand, as his assistant read aloud the contents of Zara's foundation's new press release draft. His eyes narrowed with every sentence.
"She's smarter than I gave her credit for," he muttered.
The assistant waited for a command.
Faisal swirled his drink. "Let's see how brave she is when she has to choose between truth… and the lives of the people she loves."
Zara stood before the mirror in her office, adjusting the soft beige dupatta over her shoulders. Her reflection looked calm—composed. But inside, a storm brewed.
The draft was finalized. The press release naming Faisal Dar—carefully worded, supported by a subtle leak of financial inconsistencies and conflicts of interest—was scheduled to go live in thirty minutes.
Ryan entered, phone pressed to his ear. "The journalist is ready. Once the release is out, they'll push the story across three platforms within the hour."
Zara gave a curt nod. "Let's begin."
As the clock struck twelve, Ryan hit send.
Somewhere in Lahore, a server pinged. A link went live. And the world tilted slightly on its axis.
At Faisal Dar's Private Office
The silence after the storm was deafening.
Faisal Dar stared at the article spreading like wildfire across social media and private financial forums. His name. His shadow businesses. The connection to closed women's shelters—quietly buried but now unearthed.
"She dared," he muttered, his knuckles tightening on his cane.
His assistant hovered near the door. "What now, sir?"
Faisal leaned back, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. "Now… we return the favor. Leak the photo."
Rang-e-Nau Office – Moments Later
Zara's phone buzzed. Then again. Then ten more times in quick succession.
Ryan glanced over. "Something's wrong."
She picked up her phone. The image hit her like a punch.
A younger Zara. Sitting across from her father. Smiling. Laughing. It was years ago—before everything fell apart. Before the world knew the truth. Before she knew it.
But now, the caption beneath read:
"Zara Ahmed: Playing Both Sides?"
Ryan swore. "He's trying to make you look like a hypocrite. Like this was all for show."
Zara closed her eyes for a moment, letting the tremble pass. "We expected this. Let him play dirty. The truth will speak louder."
Ryan touched her arm. "You okay?"
She opened her eyes. Fire burned in them now. "I'm done playing defense."
That Evening – An Unexpected Call
Zayan's name flashed on Zara's screen.
She answered. "You saw it?"
"Yes," he replied, voice tight. "And you need to know something. Faisal Dar wasn't always the one pulling the strings."
"What do you mean?"
Zayan paused. "There's someone else. Someone above even him."
Zara's blood ran cold. "Who?"
"Your father."
The word "father" echoed in Zara's mind like a thunderclap. For a moment, the entire room felt distant—blurred around the edges—while her heart beat violently in her chest.
She gripped the edge of the desk, her knuckles white. "What did you just say?"
On the other end of the call, Zayan's voice was firm but quiet. "Your father... he was never just a businessman. He helped Faisal rise. Funded him. Shielded him. The only reason Faisal stayed above water for so long... was because your father wanted him to."
Zara's breath hitched.
"But why?" she whispered, the weight of betrayal seeping deep into her bones.
"Power. Control. Legacy," Zayan said. "He believed women belonged at home, not in courtrooms or boardrooms. Your rise—your foundation—it was a threat to the old guard. To his legacy."
Zara sank into the chair, eyes locked on the framed photo of her late mother on the wall. So many things made sense now. The silence. The distance. The carefully curated image of a respectful father, even when her world collapsed.
Ryan sat beside her, watching her carefully. She put the phone on speaker.
"What do you suggest?" Ryan asked.
Zayan's voice was hesitant. "I think… it's time to confront the ghosts that never truly died. I have documents. Proof. But if you choose this path, Zara, there's no going back."
Zara exhaled slowly. "I never wanted to go back."
She looked at Ryan, her voice steadier than it had been in days. "But now I have to. Not just for me—for every woman who's been silenced by a man behind a curtain."
That Night – The Hidden File
In a dimly lit archive room tucked inside a decades-old law firm in Lahore, Zayan pulled out a folder labeled Legacy Trust – DAR/AHMED. The papers inside were damning—land deals, offshore accounts, and correspondences that dated back two decades. It painted a clear picture.
The kingmakers had always sat at dinner tables with Zara's family name etched in silver on the plates.
And now, their heir was ready to burn the empire down.
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(To be Continue...)