POV: Wishakha Bhalla / Ishaan Malhotra / Swara Malhotra / Arth Rathore
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PART 1: THE HEADLINE THAT WASN'T TRUE
POV: Wishakha Bhalla
News doesn't report reality.
It shapes it.
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I walked into the newsroom—
And everything stopped.
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People whispering.
Screens flashing.
Phones buzzing nonstop.
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Something had broken.
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"Wish…"
A junior intern handed me a tablet.
Hands shaking.
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"Yeh dekh…"
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I took it.
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And my world tilted.
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BREAKING NEWS:
"National Basketball Prodigy Ishaan Malhotra Accused of Match Fixing"
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No.
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No no no—
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I scrolled.
Fast.
Desperate.
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Photos.
Clips.
Edited angles.
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Him missing the shot.
Again.
And again.
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A pattern.
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A lie.
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But presented as truth.
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My chest tightened.
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"They released internal footage," someone whispered.
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"That's not possible," I snapped.
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Internal academy data doesn't leak.
Unless—
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It's allowed.
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I looked closer.
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The article wasn't just blaming Ishaan.
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It was building a story.
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A narrative.
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From Delhi rebel…
To corrupt athlete.
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My fingers curled into fists.
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"This isn't journalism," I muttered.
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"It's execution."
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And then I saw it.
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The publishing house.
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The same network…
Linked in Ledger_02.
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My heart dropped.
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"They're controlling the media."
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And suddenly—
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This wasn't just a story anymore.
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It was a war for truth itself.
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PART 2: THE NAME THEY DESTROYED
POV: Ishaan Malhotra
I didn't need to check my phone.
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I already knew.
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The looks said everything.
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Teammates avoiding eye contact.
Whispers cutting through the silence.
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"Fixer…"
"Fraud…"
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I clenched my jaw.
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Good.
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Let them talk.
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Because the truth?
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Didn't matter anymore.
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Only perception did.
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Coach called me in.
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His face—
Not angry.
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Disappointed.
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Worse.
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"I trusted you," he said quietly.
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"I didn't do it."
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The words felt empty.
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Because even I knew—
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They wouldn't believe me.
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"There's footage, Ishaan."
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Of course there was.
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Rishi made sure of it.
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"I didn't fix the game," I repeated.
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Coach sighed.
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"You're benched. Until investigation clears."
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Benched.
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Just like that.
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Everything I fought for—
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Gone.
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Because someone decided it.
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I walked out.
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Didn't argue.
Didn't fight.
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Because deep down—
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I knew.
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This wasn't something I could win on a court.
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My phone buzzed.
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Unknown message.
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"This is what happens when you forget your place."
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My vision darkened.
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No.
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This wasn't over.
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Not even close.
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PART 3: THE CHOICE
POV: Swara Malhotra
Everyone was talking about Ishaan.
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But no one was talking to him.
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Typical.
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I threw my phone on the bed.
Angry.
Restless.
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Kabir's words echoed—
"They're watching you."
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Then why weren't they helping?
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Why weren't they stopping this?
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Unless—
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My breath caught.
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Unless they wanted this.
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My phone buzzed.
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Kabir.
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I stared at the screen.
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Answer.
Don't answer.
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I picked up.
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"What?" I snapped.
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Silence.
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Then—
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"I didn't do this."
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I froze.
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"You think I believe that?"
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"I'm serious, Swara."
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His voice—
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Desperate.
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Raw.
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And that scared me more than anything.
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"Then who did?"
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A pause.
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Too long.
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"Kabir."
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"Not on the phone."
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My chest tightened.
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"Then where?"
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Another pause.
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Then—
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"Somewhere they can't see."
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And suddenly—
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I realized something terrifying.
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There was no such place anymore.
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PART 4: THE CONNECTION
POV: Arth Rathore
I signed it.
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I told myself it was to protect them.
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But the truth?
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I didn't know anymore.
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The file disappeared the moment I did.
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Like it was never there.
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Like I had imagined it.
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But I hadn't.
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Because now—
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I was part of it.
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My phone buzzed.
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A single message.
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From Rishi.
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"Good choice."
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My jaw tightened.
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Then—
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Another file appeared.
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This time—
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A list.
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Names.
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Ishaan Malhotra.
Ananya Iyer.
Swara Malhotra.
Wishakha Bhalla.
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All highlighted.
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Targets.
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My stomach dropped.
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No.
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This wasn't protection.
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This was control.
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And I had just helped him tighten it.
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I looked at the screen.
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At their names.
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At the damage already done.
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And for the first time since London—
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I felt something real.
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Not guilt.
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Not regret.
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Rage.
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Because this time—
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I wasn't going to run.
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I was going to break it from the inside.
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Even if it destroyed me in the process.
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FINAL LINE:
The truth didn't disappear.
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It was rewritten.
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And the worst part?
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Everyone believed the new version.