Ashburn stared at the phone screen, the words still glowing faintly.
> "Cancel your new supplier deal if you value your store."
He read it three times. Then once more, just to be sure it wasn't some bad joke.
But the number was unknown. No name, no context. Just a clean, cold threat.
"Perfect," he muttered. "Exactly what I needed to go with my biryani."
Sami peeked in from the kitchen, holding two plates. "You talking to yourself again?"
"No," Ashburn said, slipping the phone into his pocket. "Just mentally filing complaints to the universe."
"Well, file one for the biryani too. It's dry."
Ashburn snorted, but his mind stayed elsewhere.
He wasn't the kind of man who jumped to conclusions, but this? This smelled like a rival.
---
The next morning, the shop opened early.
The street still glistened from last night's rain, sunlight bouncing off puddles as shopkeepers lifted shutters.
Ashburn was rearranging the new shipment when Sami burst in, waving his phone.
"Bro! You won't believe this! Someone posted about us on the town's WhatsApp group."
Ashburn's brow arched. "Good or bad?"
Sami hesitated. "Uhh… depends on your blood pressure."
He showed him the message.
> "Word around the market is Khan General Store is using stolen stock. Be careful where you shop."
Ashburn's jaw tightened. "Stolen stock? Seriously?"
Sami nodded, grimacing. "Comments are blowing up. Half the shopkeepers are gossiping already."
He took a deep breath. "So, a whisper campaign. Someone's trying to ruin our rep before we even start selling."
"Who'd do that?"
"Oh, I have a short list," Ashburn muttered. "Starting with every jealous merchant within a two-mile radius."
Sami frowned. "Want me to post a reply?"
"No," Ashburn said firmly. "Let them talk. I'll handle this properly."
But deep down, anger burned slow and hot.
He had worked for months, surviving delays, chaos, and sleepless nights. Now someone wanted to smear his name?
Not happening.
---
By midday, the gossip had already reached the market association.
Old Mr. Fayyaz, the chairman — and self-declared guardian of all shopkeepers — stopped by.
He was short, round, and always carried a cane more for drama than support.
"Beta Ashburn," he began gravely, stepping inside. "I hear some troubling things about your new supplier."
Ashburn forced a polite smile. "Rumors, sir. Nothing more."
Fayyaz tapped his cane. "Hmm. Rumors often start from fire, not smoke."
Sami muttered under his breath, "And sometimes from hot air."
Ashburn shot him a warning glare.
"I understand your concern," he said evenly. "But I can assure you, everything is legal and documented. We have receipts, shipment papers, and supplier IDs."
"Good, good," Fayyaz said, stroking his beard. "Still, the market committee might review your account. You know, for fairness."
"Of course," Ashburn said through clenched teeth. "We'll cooperate fully."
As the man left, Sami whispered, "Fairness my foot. He probably just wants free detergent samples."
Ashburn sighed. "Maybe. But whoever started this isn't done yet."
---
By afternoon, he got his first clue.
The new delivery driver, Imran, arrived to unload boxes — but he looked nervous.
"Sir," he said quietly, "someone tried to stop me on the way. Two men. Said they'd pay double if I 'misplaced' your shipment."
Ashburn froze. "Did you see who they were?"
He shook his head. "Wore caps. One had a scar near his eye. I drove off fast."
Sami whistled. "Wow, we're officially in a business drama now."
Ashburn frowned. "Scar… that sounds familiar."
He tapped his notebook — then remembered.
Naeem Traders. One of the small-time dealers he had once refused credit to. The guy had a habit of copying prices, spreading gossip, and smiling like a used-car salesman.
Ashburn's lips curved into a cold smile. "So, it's Naeem, huh?"
Sami grinned. "You gonna confront him?"
"Oh, I'll do more than that," Ashburn said. "But not yet. First, we finish the setup. Then, we let him walk right into his own trap."
---
The next two days, Khan General Store looked better than ever.
Shelves filled up again, the new supplier delivered on time, and even a few curious shopkeepers dropped by "to check the rumors" — only to leave impressed.
Ashburn was polite but firm. He didn't mention Naeem. He didn't argue online. He simply let his work speak louder.
By the third day, customers had returned, smiling, laughing, asking for discounts.
"See?" Sami said proudly, handing change to a customer. "Truth always wins."
Ashburn smirked. "Only if you have receipts to back it up."
Sami raised a brow. "That was deep. You writing fortune cookies now?"
"Maybe," Ashburn said dryly. "Better side hustle than babysitting you."
Their laughter echoed through the shop. For a moment, it felt like things were back to normal.
Until the next morning.
---
They arrived to find two policemen standing outside.
"Mr. Ashburn Khan?" one asked. "We received a complaint. Something about counterfeit goods."
Sami's eyes went wide. "Counter—what?!"
Ashburn felt the anger rise again, but he kept his voice calm. "Of course, officers. Come inside."
The officers inspected a few boxes, asked a few routine questions, and checked the supplier paperwork.
After a tense fifteen minutes, one officer nodded. "Everything looks fine here. Seems like a false report."
Ashburn forced a polite smile. "I see. Thank you for checking."
The policemen left with a nod — but not before one of them said quietly,
"Whoever filed that report… used the name Naeem Traders."
Sami nearly exploded. "I KNEW IT! That snake-faced—"
"Calm down," Ashburn said sharply. "We're not stooping to his level."
"But he's literally calling the police on us!"
Ashburn's smile didn't reach his eyes. "Yes. Which means now… I have proof."
---
That evening, he walked into the market office.
Naeem was there — loud as always, surrounded by a few shopkeepers, playing the innocent victim.
"Brother Ashburn!" he said with fake surprise. "Heard about the police visit. Must've been a misunderstanding, right?"
Ashburn smiled faintly. "Oh, it was. But not for me."
Naeem's smirk twitched slightly. "What do you mean?"
Ashburn stepped closer, lowering his voice. "The officers told me who filed the complaint. You should've at least used a fake name next time."
The crowd around them went silent.
Naeem laughed nervously. "W-What nonsense! Anyone can say anything."
"Oh, true," Ashburn said, pulling out a small folder from his bag. "Which is why I brought proof. Signed documents from the police report — listing your shop as the complainant."
Gasps.
Whispers.
Naeem's face turned pale.
"You tried to frame me," Ashburn said quietly. "Spread lies. Bribe delivery drivers. And now you've embarrassed yourself in front of the whole market."
Naeem stammered, "Y-You can't—!"
"Oh, I can." Ashburn's tone stayed calm but carried steel. "Because I record every delivery now. Every invoice. Every message. If you pull another stunt, I'll post the proof publicly. With your name."
The crowd erupted in murmurs.
Naeem's lips moved, but no words came out. His hands trembled.
Ashburn smiled slightly and patted his shoulder. "Relax, brother. Next time, focus on your own shelves. They're looking emptier than your excuses."
Sami, standing at the back, nearly choked trying not to laugh.
---
As Ashburn walked out of the market office, the evening wind hit his face.
Sami jogged beside him. "Bro, that was legendary! You roasted him like old kabab!"
Ashburn chuckled. "He asked for it."
Sami grinned. "So… what's next?"
Ashburn glanced toward the sunset. "Next? We get back to work. The next evaluation's coming."
But just as they reached the corner, his phone buzzed again.
Same unknown number. New message.
> "You won that round. Let's see how long your luck lasts."
Ashburn's expression hardened, the glow of the screen reflecting in his eyes.
"Guess the game's just getting started."