Part 3 of 6 · 5 minThe Brother’s Shadow

Karan stepped into the room without knocking, his boots clicking a sharp rhythm against the tiled floor. He was dressed in his usual blend of casual and corporate—jeans and a crisp white shirt, sleeves rolled up as if he were about to roll dough or defend a contract. Between them lay the single sheet of heavy cream cardstock, now looking less like an artifact and more like evidence.

"I didn't think you'd find it until tomorrow," Karan said, leaning against the counter where the card was displayed under a magnifying lamp. "But I knew Arun would mention something eventually."

Arun wiped his hands on a rag that had seen better days. "You knew?"

"Since last week. The relative called yesterday. He's waiting for a response to the second deposit slip." Karan pushed off the counter, crossing the small shop in two strides to stand beside Zara. His voice dropped, losing its easy cadence. "The man is named Yusuf. He lent us five lakhs back in 2004 under the condition that we secure the rights to any high-profile events connected to Mr. Khan. When Meera found the original files, she thought it was just a curiosity. I saw it as insurance."

Zara frowned, her eyes narrowing. "Insurance for what? We haven't given anything away in twenty years."

"Exactly," Karan replied. "Yusuf claims that if the design is ever used again, he owns half of any revenue, plus a percentage of the branding rights. He says the deposit slip was always valid because it was never formally cancelled by a court or a registrar. If we print the second set and sell them, he can freeze our accounts immediately. But if we ignore him and use the design anyway…"

"He's threatening legal action?" Arun asked, his voice tight.

"Yes," Karan confirmed. "He sent an email this morning. He says the name 'Mr. A.R. Khan' belongs to a lineage he traces through a notary in Dubai. He wants us to pay him the outstanding balance from 2004 before we release anything new."

Zara picked up the card again, turning it over to inspect the embossed texture. "And you knew about this deal? With Yusuf?"

"I helped draft the original terms," Karan admitted. "I thought keeping the second set dormant was a way to protect our legacy without losing capital. But obviously, someone else saw it as leverage." He glanced at Zara, his expression unreadable. "Now that you found it, the clock starts ticking. Yusuf will come here tomorrow afternoon if we don't respond. If he sees the card in your hands, he'll know it's active."

"So what do we tell him?" Arun asked. "Do we say we haven't used the design in two decades? That this is just a reissue for a reunion?"

Karan nodded slowly. "That works for now. We present it as a limited edition run of five hundred, targeting elite clients who appreciate vintage craftsmanship. Yusuf will want to negotiate on price, but he won't expect us to reveal the full scope of our current inventory. For the next few days, we keep the conversation vague. Once the initial deal is struck, maybe we can discuss splitting the profits."

"But why involve me now?" Zara asked, her tone sharp. "Why didn't you tell me earlier?"

Karan shifted his weight, looking down at his shoes for a moment before meeting her gaze. "Because I thought Arun would handle it. He's the face of the business. But you're the one who noticed the ink was fresh. You're the one who asked questions. If Yusuf finds out I hid this from you, he'll claim that I mismanaged his funds on purpose. He'll say I used your discovery to delay payment."

Zara stared at him, the weight of his confession settling between them like dust. "So you let me stumble into a minefield you dug yourself?"

"I created the opportunity," Karan corrected softly. "Just like Arun did with Mr. Khan's original deal. Sometimes the second set is necessary to keep the first one alive."

Arun cleared his throat, breaking the tension. "We need a plan before Yusuf arrives. Who else knows about this Yusuf connection? Meera?"

"Meera thinks it was just a storage error," Karan said. "She doesn't know I reinvested her curiosity into a liability." He paused, then added, "And you, Zara. You're the wildcard here. If Yusuf asks who found the card, do we say it was Arun? Or do we say you discovered it while cleaning out the back?"

Zara looked from her brother to her father, seeing the same calculation in their faces—the kind that comes when survival depends on perception rather than truth. "If I tell him I found it," she said slowly, "he'll assume I'm the catalyst. He might demand a larger share of the profits since I 'uncovered' the asset."

"Then we frame it differently," Karan suggested. "You're the one who recognized its potential. You're the visionary. Yusuf will respect that."

"And if he asks why I waited twenty-four hours before reporting it?" Zara asked.

Karan smiled, a thin, practiced curve of the lips. "Then you tell him you were waiting for the right moment to introduce it properly. Timing is everything in design. And in deals."

The door chime rang, announcing an unexpected arrival. Yusuf stood in the doorway, holding a tablet and wearing a suit that looked too expensive for a debt collector. Behind him, two men in dark jackets held folders like shields.

"Mr. Iqbal," Yusuf said, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. "I see you've already activated the protocol."