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Author's POV:
"I am sorry; it was a mistake, and it will never happen again. Please forgive me," a man pleaded on his knees, tears mingling with blood from his broken nose and battered face, addressing the imposing figure standing with his back turned.
Vihaan, a 25-year-old tycoon who bore no resemblance to a conventional businessman and lacked any ethical decorum typical of the trade, surveyed the scene.
Vihaan's POV:
"I am sorry; it was a mistake, and it will never happen again." The man on his knees pleaded.
"I think he learned his lesson; you should forgive him," Avi, my friend and secretary, interjected as I lit my cigarette.
"I don't think so," I replied in a menacing tone, taking a step toward the bloodied man, cigarette dangling between my fingers.
Avi persisted, "But..."
"Yeah, I don't think so," I cut him off, bending down with a cigarette in hand, one knee on the ground, and forearms on the other, holding a gun.
"But he's sorry for being a traitor, and he won't do it again," Avi pleaded.
Lifting the man's face with my gun pressed beneath his chin, I asked, "Are you sorry for what you did?" Chuckling at the fear in his eyes, I pressed on.
"Yes, yes, I am sorry, I swear to my mother," he stammered, tears streaming down.
"Is your mother alive?" I questioned darkly, relishing the fear.
I tapped the point of my gun twice on his chin as he looked around nervously, " look at me and answer "
he stammered, "N..n.no, she's dead."
"Give her greetings from my side," I spoke with a sinister smile, extinguishing my cigarette on the ground.
He tried to speak more, wha- "Gunshots."
"He was a good guy, worked for us for years, and admitted his mistake," Avi said, looking at the blood on my face.
"I'm not denying that; he was a good man," I replied, chuckling, as I cleaned my face and walked downstairs.
"Where are you going now?" Avi shouted.
"Clean the mess and go home," I answered without looking back.
Avi has been my most trusted companion since childhood. He possesses the skills to kill and fight, yet he speaks like a coward. What a shame.
I opened the door of my car and began driving.
I don't necessarily enjoy taking lives, or perhaps I do. I refrain from initiating conflict unless someone takes the first step. Speaking of the man I just eliminated, Nishant, he betrayed me by handing over my company's documents to our rival. Disloyalty infuriates me.
Upon reaching my destination, I halted the car and stepped out. It's an old building, and I have no idea who owns it. It has remained empty since I first laid eyes on it at the age of 15. Since then, it has become my favorite place to contemplate the moon and stars, exuding a sense of profound tranquility.
I lit my cigarette as I ascended the stairs. Upon reaching the top, I leaned my back against a pole and gazed at the moon. Closing my eyes, I immersed myself in the peaceful ambiance. Suddenly, a voice broke the silence, declaring, "It's all my fault, and life will always be this way, but I am going to end this right now."
This was the first time I heard someone else in this place. For years, I believed no one else visited this building besides me.
