I used to believe the law was sacred. I wore my father’s ideals like a second skin—truth, fairness, justice. I defended the innocent, challenged the corrupt, and looked up to Justice Dharmesh Agnihotri as a living symbol of integrity.\n\nThen they framed my father.\n\nChandrakant Shrivastav, a journalist who dared to write the truth, was arrested for a murder he didn’t commit. I watched the system I trusted twist facts, silence witnesses, and bury evidence. He died in prison—'suicide,' they said. I know better.\n\nNow, standing over his grave in the pouring rain, I clutch the file that could expose everything. A single name echoes in my mind: Daaga.\n\nMy phone buzzes. An anonymous message: 'Suraj Singh attacked a warehouse in Mumbai. He’s after the same man. But he doesn’t know the truth. And neither do you—not all of it.'\n\nI look up. A shadow moves between the trees.\n\nDo I chase the shadow? Do I trust the message? Or do I burn the file and walk away?