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Chapter 8 - Chapter 8 The trap tightens.

The hospital accepted the partial payment.

Machines continued running.

Treatment resumed.

Her mother stabilized — slightly.

Twenty lakhs bought time.

Not safety.

Aansi hadn't heard from Zaid in three days.

And that silence felt deliberate.

Then something unexpected happened.

Her company ID stopped working.

She reached the office entrance — access denied.

The receptionist avoided eye contact.

An email waited in her inbox.

Subject: Termination Notice

Her hands went cold.

Due to violation of company protocol and breach of professional conduct, your employment at Voss International is terminated effective immediately.

No warning.

No meeting.

No explanation.

Leonid Voss had moved.

Her income source — gone. Motherfucker.

Her financial independence — destroyed.

And the remaining ten lakhs? Still missing.

Her phone buzzed.

Unknown number.

She didn't hesitate this time.

"I lost my job," she said immediately when she answered.

A pause.

"I know," came Zaid's voice.

Her heart skipped.

"You knew?"

"You're being watched," he said calmly.

Ice slid down her spine.

"By him?"

"Yes."

Her grip tightened on the phone.

"You said there would be consequences," she whispered.

"I did."

Silence stretched.

Then she asked quietly, "Was this your plan?"

A beat passed.

"No."

And for the first time, something in his tone shifted.

Not softness.

Annoyance.

That night, as she returned home, she noticed a black car parked across the street.

Engine running.

Windows tinted.

Not subtle.

Not accidental.

Her pulse quickened.

Her phone vibrated again.

Zaid:

Don't go inside.

She froze.

Too late.

The car door opened.

A man stepped out.

Not Zaid.

Not Leonid.

Security type. Heavy build.

He approached slowly.

"Ms. Aansi," he said. "Mr. Voss would like to speak with you."

Not a request.

A summons.

Elsewhere —

Inside Ignite —

Leonid Voss poured himself a drink.

His expression calm.

"Let her understand," he said to the man standing opposite him.

"What happens when someone walks away from me."

But he underestimated something.

Because across the city, another phone call had already been made.

And when the black car door opened fully—

Another vehicle pulled up behind it.

Headlights flooding the street.

Engine cutting.

Silence thickened.

The driver's door opened.

Long legs stepped out.

Black boots touching asphalt.

The men near Aansi turned.

Too late.

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