I stand at the edge of the rooftop, wind tugging at my uniform as the city sprawls beneath me. My father’s face stares back from a faded newspaper clipping—'Convicted Murderer' they called him. I was six when they took him away. My mother worked three jobs just to keep me fed, all while whispering, 'Your father is innocent.'\n\nNow I’m Inspector Suraj Sharma, same badge, same name, same fight. Today, I found something they missed—a discrepancy in the original case file. Bhinde’s signature doesn’t match. It’s a small crack, but it could bring the whole wall down.\n\nMy phone buzzes. Unknown number. A voice says, 'Stop digging, or you’ll end up like your father.'\n\nI grip the railing tighter. This isn’t just about proving his innocence anymore. It’s about making them pay.