In the bustling heart of India lies Delhi—a city alive with chaos, culture, and secrets. Beneath its crowded streets and historic charm, crime brews quietly, slipping through the cracks of daily life. Among its millions, four women move with purpose and poise—each known by name, yet hiding truths that would shock the world.
By day, they are icons—a respected doctor, a powerful industrialist, a sharp-witted lawyer, and a fearless journalist. Their faces grace magazines, their names echo in influential circles. But when the clock strikes midnight, everything changes.
In the silence of the night, they shed their public personas and step into the shadows. They are no longer just powerful women—they become guardians, spies, and sometimes, executioners. Each with a codename, each with a mission, bound together by a past they swore to bury.
No one suspects a thing.
Not yet.
Delhi – 12:00 AM.
The city was drowning in neon lights and diesel fumes, unaware of the storm brewing beneath its feet.
A high-profile arms deal was going down near the Yamuna banks—code-named "Project Falcon." What the criminals didn't know was that they were already being hunted.
Suddenly, the streetlights flickered.
Then went dark.
A black SUV rolled to a stop, its engine silent. From the shadows, four figures emerged—each moving like a phantom, masked, armored, armed.
Maahika Chhabra, the strategist—code name: Pulse. Trained as a cardiologist, but her precision went beyond the human heart. She carried a tranquilizer rifle and hacked into security feeds through a tablet strapped to her wrist.
"All eyes are on Sector B," she said into her comms. "Heat sensors triggered. Two hostiles. Naira, take position."
Naira Singh Ranawat, code name: Blaze—the industrialist with a taste for destruction. Her custom-made compact explosives were disguised as lipstick, her heels had hidden blades.
"Copy that," she whispered, sliding down a drainpipe with ease, her silhouette vanishing into the mist. "I've got them. Show's about to start."
A loud crack echoed across the night. One guard collapsed, clutching his leg—tranquilized.
From the rooftop across the alley, a sniper scope gleamed.
Antra Nandan, the lawyer who never lost a case—code name: Verdict. Her aim, like her cross-examinations, was cold and exact.
"Target neutralized," she said. "Saanvi, you're clear."
Saanvi Verma, journalist by day, ghost by night—code name: Cipher. She was the infiltrator, the voice of truth turned weapon. She moved like vapor through a warehouse vent, body-cam streaming real-time footage.
"I'm inside. Shipment's here. Sita, we'll need extraction in five."
A loud rumble broke the tension.
A motorcycle sped into the scene, cutting through the shadows like a blade. At the helm: Sita Saraswat, getaway queen and tech wizard—code name: Echo. Her leather jacket sparkled with raindrops, her helmet tinted.
"Doors open in 3… 2… 1—let's move, ladies."
Explosions lit the sky behind them as they rode out—mission complete.
But as they vanished into the underbelly of Delhi, none of them realized...
They were being watched.
By someone who knew their names.
All of them.
Maahika slipped quietly into her family's mansion in Hauz Khas—an architectural marvel tucked behind tall iron gates, guarded yet serene. Her parents, renowned business tycoons, were asleep upstairs. She moved like a shadow through the marble hallway, placing her tranquilizer kit neatly on a concealed shelf in her walk-in closet—like a surgeon storing her tools.
A soft smile flickered as she fed her Persian cat and watered the same wilting plant she never remembered to replace. To the world, she was the perfect daughter, the brilliant cardiologist. But behind those polished walls—she was so much more.
Naira cruised into the driveway of her mansion in Lutyens' Delhi. The towering structure was modern, minimal, and wired with security systems she personally upgraded. She stepped out of her matte-black sports car, heels clicking on the granite floor. Once inside, she slipped off her leather jacket and poured herself a glass of aged wine, scrolling through business emails like nothing had happened.
Investor meetings by day. Target demolitions by night. That was the dual life of Naira Singh Ranawat.
Antra arrived at her ancestral estate near Civil Lines, where chandeliers hung from domed ceilings and classic legal texts lined every wall. She walked into her study—half courtroom, half command center—placing her sniper case behind a panel in her antique bookcase.
To the media, she was a no-nonsense criminal lawyer. But tonight, she reviewed a different kind of case—Kabir Malhotra's sudden return.
Saanvi returned to her mansion in New Friends Colony, her press ID tucked into her blazer. Despite its modern look, the place had layers of secrecy—a hidden lab beneath the house, a broadcast booth in the basement. She transferred tonight's field footage to an encrypted drive, sipping on warm herbal tea.
By sunrise, her news segment would shake the government. But only she knew how deep the real story went.
Sita, the most elusive of them all, entered her mansion in Delhi—an architectural blend of tradition and tech. Inside, blinking monitors covered one wall, tracking everything from drones to satellites. She peeled off her helmet, eyes narrowing at a screen flashing red.
"INTRUSION DETECTED - ID: KABIR MALHOTRA"
Her heart skipped.
She grabbed the encrypted comms device and activated the secure line.
"Girls," she said, her voice sharp, urgent. "He's back. And he's in."
7:00 AM – Chhabra Mansion, Hauz Khas
A soft but persistent knock echoed on Maahika's bedroom door. Wrapped in her blanket, half-asleep, she mumbled,
"Come in…"
The door creaked open to reveal Mrs. Reva Chhabra, elegant in her silk saree, a gentle smile on her face.
"Maahi beta, Get up."
Maahika groaned, rubbing her eyes. "Maa… I had an emergency last night. I was at the hospital till 4 AM. Please, just a few more hours."
Reva walked over and sat on the edge of the bed, brushing a hand over Maahika's hair.
"I know, sweetheart. I'm sorry. But I told you—there's a family coming to see you today. The boy is here in Delhi just for one day."
Maahika sighed, her voice laced with exhaustion and frustration. "Maa, please... not again. I'm really not interested in marriage."
Reva gave her a look—half stern, half pleading.
"Maahi, just meet him once. That's all I'm asking. I won't force you. But this is the sixth time we've arranged this. At least do it for me."
Maahika sat up slowly, hair messy, eyes heavy, soul a little heavier.
She'd dodged bullets last night, and now she had to dodge rishta conversations at breakfast.
"Fine," she muttered. "One meeting. But I'm not dressing up like a princess."
Reva smiled, kissed her forehead, and stood.
"Thank you, beta. He'll be here by 11. Wear something nice—please."
As the door closed, Maahika fell back into bed with a loud sigh, staring at the ceiling.
A whisper escaped her lips.
"From dodging criminals... to dodging grooms. My life is a thriller and a rom-com."
She didn't know it yet—but the man she was about to meet wasn't as ordinary as she thought.
Maahika eventually dragged herself out of bed, freshened up, and made her way downstairs, dressed in a simple pastel night suit and her hair tied in a loose bun. The scent of freshly brewed coffee and cardamom floated through the Chhabra Mansion.
Mr. Chhabra looked up from his newspaper and smiled warmly.
"Good morning, Doctor Sahiba."
Maahika smiled and gave him a quick side hug.
"Good morning, Papa."
Just then, Veer Chhabra, her older brother, strolled in with a smirk on his face and a cup of tea in hand.
"Well, well, if it isn't our very own sleepyhead. Morning, Chipkali."
Without missing a beat, Maahika shot him a playful glare.
"Good morning, Rotten Flowers."
Their mother called from the kitchen, "Stop calling each other zoo names and come have breakfast!"
The family gathered around the long teakwood table as staff brought out trays of hot parathas, fruit bowls, and juice.
Maahika nibbled at her toast, still half-distracted. Her thoughts kept slipping back to last night—the mission, the ambush, Kabir's face on that screen.
"Maahi," her mother's voice cut through her thoughts. "He'll be here at 11. Please be ready. Just be yourself, okay?"
Veer raised an eyebrow, leaning toward her. "Another one? I hope this one doesn't run away before dessert."
Maahika rolled her eyes. "If he does, tell him I recommend therapy."
Everyone laughed.
But under the table, her smartwatch vibrated.
A coded message flashed across the screen:
"Surveillance camera glitch. Kabir may have infiltrated server logs. We need a meet. 3 PM. Location to follow. – Mr. Budge"
She took a deep breath and forced a smile.
"Great. Marriage proposal in the morning, spy meeting in the afternoon. Just a normal day."
After breakfast, Maahika returned to her room to get ready. She chose a pre-draped, elegant pastel saree—simple yet graceful—and kept her makeup minimal, just a touch of kajal and a soft pink lip. She tied her hair into a neat low bun, adding a pair of small silver jhumkas for the final touch.
Downstairs, the Ranawat family had just arrived.
Maahika's heart beat a little faster the moment her mother called out,
"Maahi beta, come downstairs."
She slowly descended the staircase, her gaze focused on the floor, as usual during these awkward rishta meetings.
But the moment the young man introduced himself, her eyes lifted—and widened in disbelief.
"Hi… I'm Kanishq. Kanishq Singh Ranawat."
Maahika froze for a second, her breath catching in her throat.
No way.
Kanishq?! Her high school crush. The boy she once doodled hearts around in the back of her notebooks. The one she never confessed to, and whose soft smile had lived in a quiet corner of her heart ever since.
And now… he was standing in her living room, dressed in a crisp shirt, holding a gentle, respectful smile that hadn't changed one bit.
Her cheeks turned a soft shade of pink as she nodded slightly, "Hi… I'm Maahika."
She looked away, suddenly shy—a rarity for someone who'd disarmed a dozen criminals just the night before.
Sensing the subtle energy between them, Mrs. Ranawat chuckled.
"You both can go and talk in private if you'd like."
Mrs. Chhabra nodded immediately, a hopeful glint in her eye.
"Yes, Maahi beta—take him up to the terrace. It's quieter there."
Maahika hesitated for a second, then stood, smoothing her saree.
"Sure… this way."
As they walked together toward the spiral staircase leading to the rooftop terrace, Kanishq turned to her with a playful smile.
"Long time, Maahi. Didn't expect to see you like this after all these years."
She looked up at him, trying to hide the rush of emotions.
"Yeah… life's full of surprises."
Neither of them knew yet—this reunion wasn't just fate. It was about to change everything.