"Wednesday 10 a.m , 6 November"

The Oberoi household was in the midst of a tense discussion about their next steps when the doorbell rang, cutting through the air like a knife. Omkara stood up and went to answer it, his movements deliberate and wary.

“Who is it, Omkara?” Anika asked, her voice edged with concern.

“It’s the police,” Omkara replied, a frown creasing his forehead.

“What’s the issue now?” whispered Sayani, her nervousness was evident.

“Shhh….” hissed Rajeev Siddhartha, placing a finger to her lips to silence her.

Omkara opened the door to find a stern-faced inspector standing there, flanked by a constable.

“Why are you here, Inspector? Is there an issue?” Omkara asked, his tone guarded.

“Good morning, Mr. Oberoi,” the inspector said, tipping his hat slightly. “Actually, we found a piece of information that might be of interest to you.”

With a nod, the constable handed the inspector a sheet of paper. The inspector then passed it to Omkara, who quickly scanned it before handing it to Anika. It was a record of Mr. Shivaay Singh Oberoi’s call logs on the day of his death.

The inspector didn’t stay long, leaving behind a sense of confusion and shock as Anika stared at the records. They showed a series of incoming calls from an unknown number, each lasting exactly eleven minutes and occurring every half hour.

Gauri leaned in to get a better look. “Maybe we should try calling the number?” she suggested.

Rajeev shook his head. “No, the number might not be in use anymore. We need to be more strategic. Look at the pattern—each call is exactly eleven minutes long and spaced thirty minutes apart. That’s too precise to be a coincidence.”

Sayani turned to Anika, her eyes pleading. “Anika, can you remember anything from that day that might help us understand these calls?”

Anika’s brow furrowed in concentration. “As far as I remember, Shivaay was getting phone calls from an unknown number. I answered one of them around 5 p.m.,” she recalled, her voice trembling slightly.

“And, Mrs. Oberoi, after 5 p.m., there were no more calls received, as shown on the sheet,” Rajeev pointed out, his voice steady as he pieced the puzzle together.

“By the way, Mrs. Oberoi, can you tell us what you and Shivaay were doing after five that day?” Rajeev’s tone was probing, eager for details.

Anika’s eyes glazed over as she cast her mind back. “That day, Miss India was crowned Miss World…”

“We all know that. She was Manushi Chillar,” Rajeev interrupted impatiently. “Tell us something we don’t know.”

“Something new"

Shivaay was upset. He was in a foul mood,” Anika remembered, her voice tinged with sorrow. “Yes, actually, Shivaay had been invited to be one of the judges for the pageant, but he couldn’t take the role because they had already confirmed another judge.”

“That doesn’t make sense as a reason for someone to commit suicide,” Sayani chimed in, her tone tinged with doubt.

“Of course not,” Anika agreed, nodding. “There must be another reason.”

“The reason is something else entirely,” Rajeev said, his voice firm with conviction.

“And we need to find out what that is,” Gauri added, determination in her eyes.

“Guys, hold on", Omkara broke off, gesturing for them to be quiet.  “We must first find out about the lady who has been sending us these letters.”

Anika's mind raced, trying to connect the dots. The mysterious phone calls, Shivaay's agitation, the enigmatic Miss Winget—it all seemed to be part of a larger, more sinister picture. The tension in the room was palpable as each person grappled with their thoughts, trying to make sense of the clues.

“We need to track down Jennifer Winget,” Anika said finally, her voice resolute. “She holds the key to all of this.”

Rajeev nodded in agreement. “Let's focus our efforts on finding her. She might lead us to the truth about Shivaay's death.”

The group fell silent, the weight of the task ahead settling heavily on their shoulders. The mystery was far from solved, but for the first time, they had a direction—a path to follow that might finally reveal the truth behind Shivaay's tragic end.

“Anika, can you find out about her?” Rajeev requested. Omkara nodded and left to use his resources to dig up information on Jennifer Winget.

Anika excused herself from the conversation and went upstairs to continue her search. For once, her efforts bore fruit. She discovered a photograph of Shivaay with three unknown individuals. Clutching the picture, she returned to the living room where the others were having tea, Rajeev lost in thought.

“Guys, look what I found in that room,” Anika announced, holding up the photo. “A picture of Shivaay with three unknown people.”

They examined the picture closely, trying to deduce the time and place it was taken. Suddenly, Omkara returned with the police, handcuffed. The sight left the four of them stunned.

“What happened, Omkara?” cried Gauri, her voice breaking with fear.

“Inspector, what is going on?” demanded Anika.

“Mrs. Oberoi, Mr. Omkara Singh Oberoi is under arrest for the murder of his brother, Mr. Shivaay Singh Oberoi.”

“What?”

“No!”

“Are you insane, Inspector?” Gauri shouted, her eyes wide with disbelief.

“Do you have any evidence?” Rajeev asked, his voice steady despite the chaos.

“Yes, Mr. Rajeev Siddhartha,” the inspector replied, showing them footage from a neighbor’s CCTV camera. The video showed Omkara as the last person to see Shivaay alive, his behavior suspicious and frantic. It depicted Omkara making Shivaay unconscious and searching the room like a man possessed. The footage cut off abruptly after Omkara slapped Shivaay while he was unconscious.

“I’ve told you many times, I didn’t do that,” Omkara insisted, his voice desperate and pleading.

Everyone was in shock, grappling with the revelation. The media, ever the opportunists, swarmed their mansion, cameras flashing and questions flying like daggers. Sayani turned to Anika, whispering that her suspicions about a planned murder were likely true. Gauri, paralyzed by grief, couldn’t utter a word, while Omkara continued to protest his innocence.

“Believe me, guys! I didn’t do anything,” Omkara implored as the police led him away. Rajeev showed him the picture of Shivaay with the unknown people, asking if he recognized anyone. Despite his distress, Omkara identified one as Harshad Chopda.

“The lady is… Jjjeennii….” Omkara stammered, but before he could finish, he was taken away. Outside, the paparazzi assaulted him with questions and camera flashes, each one a painful reminder of the nightmare unfolding.

“Anika! Believe me… Omkara didn’t kill Shivaay,” Gauri cried, her voice a mix of anger and sorrow.

Anika bolted upstairs, overwhelmed by the tumultuous events. Gauri, still in shock, was consoled by Sayani, who led her to her room. Gauri’s sobs echoed through the halls, a haunting testament to her anguish. Sayani tried to comfort her, but then noticed a shadow near the door.

“Who’s there?” she demanded, her voice sharp with fear. She moved to the door, but the shadow vanished.

“What happened?” Gauri asked, wiping away her tears.

“Nothing. I think I’m just imagining things,” Sayani said, shaking her head. “You rest. I’ll check on Rajeev.”

Gauri nodded weakly. Sayani left the room and headed towards Anika’s room. She was about to knock when she heard voices inside. Puzzled, she recalled that Anika had gone up alone. Curiosity piqued, she decided to investigate further. But before she could, a servant called out Anika’s name. Gauri seized the opportunity and quickly opened the door, only to find Anika on her phone, sweat trickling down her face. Something was definitely off, and Gauri’s suspicions grew.

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