THE MAN WHO SHOULD NOT EXIST

The elevator doors slid shut with a soft metallic thud, trapping an uneasy silence between Devveer khanna and the young forensic intern Dimpal sharma  walking beside him. The air inside felt too still, too compressed—as if the building itself knew something forbidden was happening.

Devveer stood rigidly, both hands clenched behind his back. His jaw locked tightly enough for the muscle near his ear to twitch. He wasn’t angry at her—not exactly. The anger was directed inward. Toward the fingerprint. Toward the past that refused to stay buried. Toward the person he had sworn was dead.

But she didn’t know any of that.

She only noticed the way he kept glancing at her, as if checking whether she was still within his reach. The intensity in his eyes always bordered on dangerous—dark obsidian sharp enough to cut through logic. Being in the elevator with him felt like being caught in a magnetic field: invisible, powerful, unavoidable.

She cleared her throat. “Sir… can you please tell me whose fingerprint that was?”

Devveer didn’t look at her.

“Not yet.”

“But why me? Why involve an intern in something so serious?”

That got his attention.

He turned slowly, eyes narrowing—not in anger, but in a terrifying kind of possessiveness.

“Because,” he said softly, “people are easier to protect when they’re close.”

Her pulse stumbled.

“But I’m not in danger—”

Devveer stepped toward her. The elevator lights cast sharp shadows over his face, making him look carved from something ancient and cold.

“Yes,” he murmured, “you are.”

She froze.

He reached out—slowly, as if touching something precious—and brushed a strand of hair from her face. His fingers hovered longer than necessary.

“Whether you know it or not, someone watched you yesterday.”

His voice dropped.

“And I don’t like people watching what belongs to me.”

She inhaled sharply. “I don’t belong—”

He gently lowered his hand on her shoulder, silencing her.

“Don’t argue with me.”

THE AUTOPSY WING

The elevator opened into the restricted forensic pathology corridor, where the air smelled faintly of disinfectant and metallic chill. A sense of dread hung over the space, as if the walls themselves had seen too much.

She had been here before—but only as an observer. Today felt different.

Today she walked behind the CEO, whose presence bent gravity and pulled attention with him wherever he went.

The pathologist, Dr. Mehra, looked up in visible surprise.

“Sir… you’re here personally?”

Devveer gave a curt nod. “Where is the body brought in from Sector 49?”

Dr. Mehra hesitated. “The unusual one?”

Devveer's eyes sharpened. “Yes.”

Mehra gestured toward the second stainless-steel table. “Right there. But I must warn—”

Devveer cut him off. “I know what I’m looking for.”

His voice sounded like a blade sliding from its sheath.

She followed him to the table, gloved hands trembling slightly. The white sheet covered the body completely, only the outline visible—tall, lean, and eerily familiar.

The sheet rustled when Devveer pulled it back.

She gasped.

The man lying before them—

the murder victim—

had a face that mirroredDevveer’s.

Not completely.

Not like twins.

More like… bone structure, jawline, expression.

Enough to cause a chill.

Dr. Mehra sighed. “He looked like a replica of someone. The officers said the same.”

Devveer didn’t blink.

“It’s not a replica.”

She turned sharply. “Then who is he?”

Devveer swallowed hard—something he rarely did.

“My brother.”

Her breath caught. “Your… real brother? But people said you had no siblings.”

“I don’t,” Devveer answered coldly. “Not anymore.”

Shock rippled through the room.

Dr. Mehra cleared his throat. “This brother—he was documented as deceased years ago. The fingerprints were in the system as part of an old case file.”

Devveer’s face turned to stone.

She stared between Devveer and the body. “But… sir… if he’s supposed to be dead—”

“Then whoever killed him now,” Devveer murmured, “wanted me to know he was alive.”

The lights overhead flickered, throwing sudden shadows across the room.

She stepped closer to the body, her forensic instincts overriding fear. The torso had deep bruising. The wrists bore rope marks. There were defensive wounds. And a slash wound straight across the abdomen.

She frowned. “Sir, this doesn’t look like a simple murder.”

Devveer lips curved slightly—not in amusement, but in grim acknowledgment.

“It isn’t.”

He placed a hand on the metal table, leaning close as he studied the body.

“My brother… was declared dead in a fire.”

A pause.

“A fire caused by someone who wanted to destroy my family’s lineage.”

She stared.

“But why bring him back now?”

Devveer's eyes darkened.

“To warn me. To remind me that unfinished threats don’t die.”

Her chest tightened. “Sir… you’re saying someone from your past is involved?”

He didn’t answer directly.

Instead, he pulled her aside, away from the body.

“Listen to me carefully,” he said, lowering his voice. “Starting today, you will not go anywhere alone. Not the lab. Not the cafeteria. Not home. Nowhere.”

She blinked. “Devveer—sir, this is too much—”

He stepped closer, hand sliding along her arm—not gently, but with a quiet desperation.

“If something happens to you, I will burn this city to the ground.”

The sheer intensity in his voice sent a chill down her spine.

He meant it.

He wasn’t exaggerating.

His obsession wasn’t a fantasy—it was a dangerous, living thing.

She tried again. “But why me? Why are you so—”

Devveer gripped her chin, just enough to make her look directly into his eyes.

“Because the person who sent this body knew you would be with me.”

Her breath hitched.

“Knew… me? Why?”

He exhaled sharply, expression unraveling for a fraction of a second.

“Because they know exactly how far I’ll go to protect you.”

The room fell silent.

Even Dr. Mehra didn’t breathe.

Devveer released her slowly, like he was afraid she’d disappear into thin air.

Then he looked at the body again.

“My brother was not the message,” he whispered. “The real message was the fingerprint on the cloth.”

She swallowed. “The partial print?”

Devveer nodded.

“It’s from the man who destroyed my family. The man who killed my brother the first time.”

His voice trembled—only once.

“And he shouldn’t be alive.”

Her heart stopped.

“You mean—”

Devveer turned to her.

“Yes.”

His voice was a cold prophecy.

“He’s alive.”

The fluorescent lights above them hummed faintly.

Devveer stepped even closer, his presence enveloping her like a shadow.

“And he wants you.”

Her entire world tilted.

“Me? Why would a murderer from your past want me?!”

Devveer answered without hesitation.

“Because he knows the easiest way to break a man…”

He lifted her chin gently, staring into her terrified eyes.

“…is to take the one thing he can’t afford to lose.”

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