United States,
Today, an unprecedented and startling event was unfolding in the history of Harvard University.
For the past three hours, business management students at Harvard University had been attending a lecture on a topic that, until recently, had existed only as a rumor and a fantastical story known across the globe.
As the lecture concluded, the elderly professor adjusted his glasses and, with a deliberate pause, said, "So, students, I am aware that many questions must be racing through your minds. You must be wondering why you are being taught about Rockwave and why this lecture is even happening. To be clear, I do not have the answers to these questions either. An order was issued from above, and I, too, was compelled to give this lecture. The reasoning behind it remains a mystery to me. However, if any of you have doubts or questions regarding Rockwave, feel free to ask."
At the professor's words, the students—still in shock after learning about Rockwave—snapped back to attention.
One student, wide-eyed, asked, "So, you mean, the rumors were true, Professor? Rockwave isn't just a fictional tale, a mere myth? A secret society named Rockwave really exists?"
With a smile, the professor replied, "Yes, indeed. The secret society known as Rockwave exists in reality. There is nothing fabricated or rumor-based about it. While Rockwave once concealed its power and presence from the world, last night an announcement was made in all educational institutions worldwide: an additional lecture would be given about Rockwave. From kindergarten through to college, every student would now be taught about it, in different formats, through various syllabi and lectures."
The professor's words created an electric stir throughout the classroom. Nearly every student present had heard whispers and stories about Rockwave, but none could have fathomed that such a supreme power actually existed.
Another student, his curiosity piqued, asked, "Professor, is it true that the rumors about Bella Richard, the chairperson of Infosys, and Rockwave—were they accurate? Did Bella Richard truly serve as the president of Rockwave?"
With a serious tone, the professor answered, "Indeed, it is true. Bella Richard once served as the president of Rockwave. She was the second most powerful person on this Earth. However, due to a security breach, Bella Richard's identity was revealed, and, according to Rockwave's strict rules, she was forced to resign."
Upon hearing this revelation, a wave of goosebumps spread across the room.
Rockwave, a force so powerful, its reach surpassed anything the world could imagine.
It was even said that before assuming office, presidents and leaders of the world's most powerful nations would first report to Rockwave's highest authority. To be the president of Rockwave was no ordinary feat.
The individual who held the position of president at Rockwave controlled the entire High Chair. In simple terms, the president of Rockwave held more influence than the leaders of countries like the United States.
As enthusiasts of the business world, every student in the room knew about Bella Richard, the queen of the business sphere.
For many, she was a source of inspiration and admiration.
The realization that she had once wielded such immense power stirred excitement among the students.
It was indeed extraordinary for a woman to possess such a commanding force.
A boy with curly hair asked, "Professor, if we wish to join Rockwave, what must we do?"
With a slight smile, the professor responded, "Rockwave is not something you can choose, my child. It is Rockwave that chooses you."
The professor's words left the students deep in thought, though they couldn't fully grasp the meaning behind them.
One student pressed, "Professor, what exactly do you mean? I don't quite understand."
The professor explained, "What I mean is that no one can join Rockwave of their own volition. Rockwave has its own recruitment strategy. It chooses and recruits individuals, not the other way around. If Rockwave selects you, it means you are special—extraordinarily special."
Hearing this, a student inquired, "But Professor, surely there must be some criteria to be selected by Rockwave?"
The professor responded, "No, there is no specific criterion."
"But if there are no criteria, then how does Rockwave choose someone? If capable individuals are never chosen, then what happens?" a girl voiced her confusion and concern.
With a faint smile, the professor responded, "Do not forget what Rockwave truly is. Rockwave's gaze is upon the entire world. It holds such power that it can change everything about you—from your appearance to your tastes. Choosing the worthy is something Rockwave does better than you or I could ever do. Now, if there are no further questions on this topic, I will take my leave."
The professor's words left the students somewhat disappointed. They yearned to know how one could join Rockwave, but the professor had left them with little clarity.
Meanwhile,
A luxury car sped through the streets of France.
Whether human or object, nothing seemed to matter to the person driving the car. The vehicle continued to bulldoze everything in its path without hesitation.
Perhaps the driver had lost his mental composure, or perhaps he was drunk, but the truly astonishing part was not this. The surprising part was that, in a country as disciplined as France, no police or citizen dared to intervene.
In fact, when the traffic police saw the car's license plate, they raised the barrier and directed pedestrians away from the road.
Within moments, the car sliced through the air, heading into the forest, and the people of Paris sighed in relief.
A teenager, standing by the roadside, glared at the speeding car and muttered, "What the hell? Who was that crazy person? Doesn't he see what he's doing?"
Before he could finish, his father quickly grabbed his hand and said, "Quiet. Didn't you see? That car belonged to the Richard family. If anyone hears you, we're done for. Let's go home."
"But Dad, the car almost hit me."
"Almost hit you? It didn't, did it? Now, let's go," his father said with a stern look, pulling him away.
The teenager turned to look at the car, which had disappeared into the forest.
He muttered irritably, "Dad, is our country not independent anymore?"
"It is, but our government is no match for Bella Richard's power," his father murmured under his breath, sighing coldly.
Meanwhile,
The car had broken through the gates of the French Army Base, heading into the compound.
_____________________________
Who was driving this car?
Why did this car head to the French Army Base?
What is Rockwave's recruitment strategy?
To know…
To be continued…
The teenager, with a slight frown, asked, "Dad, is our country not independent?"
"It is," his father replied, "but our government is not more powerful than Bella Richard." He sighed coldly, his tone filled with resignation.
Meanwhile,
The car crashed through the gates of the French Army base, smashing into the compound.
Immediately, all the soldiers on duty went on high alert, their weapons aimed at the vehicle. But when they saw the license plate, they hesitated, lowering their guns in confusion—recognizing it.
The driver's side door opened, and a girl, with graceful legs and a faltering stance, stumbled out.
She wore a baby-pink short maxi dress, an outfit that contrasted sharply with the military environment.
The girl staggered for a moment but regained her balance swiftly. Her eyes, though beautiful, were clouded with tears, the kind of sadness that only intoxication could nurture. One hand clutched a gun, the other held an expensive bottle of liquor.
She staggered forward, exuding the air of someone who had lost everything.
The Sergeant, cautiously, asked his Chief, "Isn't that Emma Richard, Madam Richard's cousin?"
By "Madam Richard," he referred to Bella Richard, a revered figure across politics, the corporate world, and military circles. Her name commanded the highest respect, often invoked with the title "Madam" by those who admired her.
The Chief squinted at Emma, then replied, "Yes, it's Emma. But there's nothing like Madam Richard in this girl. She's a spoiled princess, a troublemaker. If she weren't Madam Richard's sister, I'd throw her out of here myself."
The Chief's tone was harsh, his annoyance evident.
The Sergeant asked cautiously, "Should we inform Madam Richard about this?"
"No," the Chief replied, "she's in an important meeting. Better not disturb her."
"But Chief, look at her. She's causing a scene and has a gun with her. If this continues, she'll ruin the entire base," the Sergeant added.
The Chief's expression grew darker. Glancing back at Emma, whose finger hovered dangerously over the gun's trigger, he made a decision.
"Fine," he said, taking a deep breath, "Inform Mr. Rawat. Let him handle it."
The Sergeant nodded and hurried off toward the barracks at the end of the base. This was where Bella was holding her meeting.
Inside the dimly lit barracks, Bella was in a strategy session with high-ranking French army officials. The only light came from the projector displaying various weapon models, casting a cold glow across the room.
At the head of the long table sat Bella, dressed simply in a loose white shirt, black jeans, and sneakers—her presence, however, far outshone her attire. Her calm demeanor, as serene as a still lake, demanded the respect of anyone in the room.
The Sergeant arrived at the barracks, pausing just outside the door. He peered in cautiously. Rawat, Bella's assistant, was standing near the projector, listening intently.
"Rawat Sir!" the Sergeant called.
Rawat turned, his sharp features softening slightly as he acknowledged the Sergeant.
"Yes?" Rawat asked.
The Sergeant explained the situation, "Miss Emma is here, and she's causing quite a disturbance. She's drunk and carrying a gun. Should we intervene?"
Rawat's face hardened. "Wait here," he said, before turning back into the barracks to inform Bella.
Moments later, Rawat returned to the Sergeant, his expression grave. "The Boss has given the orders. Let's go."
The Sergeant nodded, and together they left for the courtyard.
As they approached, the scene outside the base was tense. Emma, still holding her gun, was clearly enraged. The soldiers around Bella had their weapons drawn, but Bella herself remained calm, unshaken by the threat.
Rawat glared at Emma. "Put down the gun, Miss Richard," he said in a low, dangerous voice.
But Emma, her anger clouding her judgment, glared back at Bella, eyes full of venom.
"I'll kill you, Bella!" she spat. "You took everything from me—first my parents, then my husband. You killed him!"
Bella's gaze remained cool, unfazed by her cousin's words. The tragic accusation had grown stale. "I had nothing to do with Jim's death," she said quietly, her voice unwavering. "It was Rockwave, not me."
Emma's hand tightened around the gun, but before she could make another move, Bella continued, "If you're looking to blame someone, blame the Chairman, blame Rockwave. Not me."
There was a brief silence as Emma's mind processed Bella's words. Slowly, her gun lowered, but the anger still burned in her eyes.
"You could have saved Jim," Emma said bitterly. "But you did nothing! You saved your own husband when he was in danger, but when it came to Jim, you let him die."
Bella, her expression unreadable, walked closer to Emma. "Give me the gun, and let's go home."
"Home?" Emma sneered. "After everything you've taken from me, you think I'd go anywhere with you?"
Bella's response was almost mechanical. "Emma, this hate won't change anything. You can point your finger at me, but your anger won't bring Jim back. It's over."
Emma took a step back, her face twisted with rage. "You think it's over? No, Bella, it's only just begun. I'm going to kill you!"
Bella's composure remained unshaken as she stepped forward again. "Do it, Emma. If you have the courage."
Emma hesitated, her finger twitching on the trigger. Bella's calmness only seemed to provoke her more.
Rawat, his patience wearing thin, silently raised his own weapon, aiming directly at Emma.
A single gunshot rang out, piercing the tension like a knife.
"Boss!" Rawat shouted, rushing toward Bella.
Bella staggered back two steps, a shocked expression crossing her face.
______________________________
Why did the Chairman kill Emma's husband?
Will Bella survive?
What will happen when Bella's husband finds out about her condition?
To be continued…
Rawat, though deeply concerned for his boss, discreetly aimed his gun at Emma, ensuring he didn't draw attention.
A deafening gunshot suddenly pierced through the air, echoing across the army base.
"Boss!"
Rawat and the senior military personnel swiftly advanced toward Bella, who staggered back, clutching her arm.
Emma stood frozen, her gaze fixated on the blood trickling from Bella's hand.
The bullet had merely grazed Bella, leaving only a superficial scratch. Yet, the physical wound was insignificant compared to the emotional blow Emma's action had inflicted on Bella.
Bella glanced at the blood on her hand before locking eyes with Emma, her expression a mixture of disbelief and betrayal.
Emma had harbored resentment toward Bella since childhood, but Bella had never imagined that animosity would culminate in this—an actual gunshot.
Emma's composure crumbled as fear consumed her. Her hands trembled uncontrollably, and the gun slipped from her grip, clattering to the ground.
In a voice barely above a whisper, Bella said, "You actually shot me, Emma."
The quiet accusation drained the color from Emma's face, and panic overtook her. Her heartbeat raced as she stammered, "Bella, I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you. It was an accident—the trigger slipped. Please forgive me. You know I'd never—"
Bella cut her off, her voice steely as she addressed the head of her security. "Steven, escort her home safely. Ensure that our 'princess' remains confined to the house for the next month. I don't want to see her outside."
Steven nodded. "Understood, Boss." Without hesitation, he took Emma away, ignoring her protests.
The lieutenant stepped forward and suggested, "Madam Richard, while your injury seems minor, there's a risk of infection. Please allow me to escort you to the dispensary. It won't take long, and the doctor can treat it properly."
Bella smiled faintly as she dabbed the blood on her arm with a napkin. "Thank you for your concern, Lieutenant Colonel, but there's no need. I wouldn't want to trouble you further. Emma has already caused enough disruption here. I'll take my leave now. My guards will assist with the cleanup, and consider Shadowstrike my compensation for this inconvenience."
Her final words sent a ripple of excitement through the gathered military personnel.
Shadowstrike, the pinnacle of high-tech weaponry, was considered Bella Richard's masterpiece—a weapon that could rival and even surpass Rockwave's most advanced arsenals.
The military team, initially skeptical about securing Shadowstrike after days of negotiations, were stunned when Bella offered it as a gesture of reparation for a relatively minor incident.
The spoiled heiress they had initially perceived Emma to be now seemed like a delicate princess, and any irritation they felt had transformed into gratitude.
After all, it was Emma's recklessness that had led to Bella parting with a treasure like Shadowstrike.
Shortly after, a convoy of sleek black Land Rovers exited the army base, with Bella's signature Rolls-Royce at the center.
Inside the vehicle, Bella leaned back on the plush leather seats. Her shirt sleeve was rolled up, revealing her slender arm, where a fine trickle of blood marred her otherwise flawless skin.
From the front seat, Rawat observed his boss through the rearview mirror. She remained composed, dabbing away at her injury with a napkin, her serene expression betraying none of the turmoil caused by her sister's impulsive actions.
"Boss," Rawat ventured cautiously, "the bleeding seems excessive. Shall we head to the hospital?"
Bella considered briefly before nodding. "Let's go. The wound may not be deep, but the bleeding is persistent."
With her consent, Rawat relayed the instructions to the driver.
Though Bella had initially shrugged off the pain, the continuous loss of blood began to take its toll. Her arm throbbed, growing numb as the discomfort intensified.
She closed her eyes, resting her head against the seat. Her naturally crimson lips pressed into a thin line as she silently endured the pain.
As the car came to a halt outside the hospital, Bella opened her eyes and issued a firm command. "Rawat, ensure that neither Charlie nor Kartik hears about this incident."
Her voice carried a quiet resolve. She had no intention of letting her hot-headed stepbrother Charlie or her mercurial husband Kartik learn about the attack. Their reactions were unpredictable—and Emma might not survive the consequences.
Bella could control empires, but the two men in her life—her husband Kartik and her stepbrother Charlie—had minds of their own.
Rawat hesitated. "Boss, manipulating Charlie is possible, but Kartik Sir… He won't be so easily swayed."
Bella's lips curved into a faint smile. "I know, Rawat. But try anyway."
Meanwhile, amid the icy peaks of the Himalayas, where the air itself was a challenge to breathe, a solitary figure sat in deep meditation. His chiseled features, marked by both strength and beauty, radiated an unnatural calm.
The freezing temperatures turned his breath into visible clouds, yet the biting cold had no effect on his unwavering focus.
Bare-chested, save for a pair of black pants, the man's muscular frame seemed impervious to the snow that clung to his body. Even the relentless storm couldn't diminish the sheer power of his presence. His aura, cold and intimidating, surpassed even the harsh environment surrounding him.
The silence was abruptly shattered by the roar of a helicopter slicing through the storm. A sleek black chopper landed nearby, its rotors scattering the snow.
A tall, impeccably dressed man stepped out, clad in a black leather jacket and boots that perfectly complemented his 6'6" frame. His eyes sparkled with mischief, a sly grin playing on his lips as he approached the meditating figure.
"Chairman," he called out, his tone teasing. "This is hardly fair. Your wife has been shot, and yet here you are, engrossed in your penance. At this rate, your dedication to meditation might just cost you your marriage."
The Chairman, Kartik, opened his eyes, revealing a pair of piercing, ocean-blue irises that seemed to harbor a tempest.
Fixing the intruder with an icy glare, Kartik's voice was cold and lethal. "Under such circumstances, your lies may very well become the cause of your death, Akshat Rajvansh."
Unfazed, Akshat smirked. "Brother, I'm no fool. Fearless, yes, but not suicidal. Bella was indeed shot—by none other than Emma Richard. If you don't believe me, come see for yourself. She's currently admitted to R.H. Hospital."
Kartik's expression darkened, his handsome features taking on an ominous edge. His eyes grew colder, his mind already envisioning Emma's demise.
But would Bella allow him to carry out his revenge?
_____________________________
What will Kartik do to Emma?
Will his actions strain his bond with Bella?
To Know…
To be continued…
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