LEGACY

“What is life... if not the pursuit of legacy?”

In the dim light of the room, Shahram sat staring into the fireplace, a glass of whiskey in his hand, lost in thought. He wore a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, a black suit vest, and black dress trousers. The veins along his forearms stood out clearly. His hair was curly and jet black.

His guard, standing behind him, heard the words and leaned forward slightly.

“I did not understand, sir.”

Shahram slowly rose and walked closer to him, gently swirling the whiskey in his glass.

“I was talking to myself.”

He paused for a moment and took a breath.

“My uncle is very ill. I need to go see him. Get the car ready.”

The guard hurried out as soon as he heard the order.

In the deep silence of the night, Shahram travelled with his convoy toward Salazaar Haweli. When they reached the tall iron gates, the Haweli stood without a single light, surrounded by forest and darkness like a fortress.

As soon as they entered, the guards of Salazaar Haweli took control of all the weapons and vehicles and escorted Shahram to the room of his elderly uncle, Saarim Salazaar. Saarim lay weak in bed, surrounded by medical equipment, living through what seemed to be his final hours.

Shahram sat beside the bed, took his hand, and spoke gently.

“Do not worry. Everything will be all right.”

Saarim drew a weak breath and asked,

“Where is Salaar?”

Shahram replied,

“I do not know. No one does. He is probably out enjoying himself. What else would he be doing?”

Saarim turned his face away in sorrow.

Shahram said,

“I am afraid of what will happen to us if he becomes the head of this family.”

Silence settled over the room for a few moments. Shahram spoke quietly.

“I think you should hand everything over to your daughter, Romana. She would still be a better choice.”

But Saarim slowly lifted his head, a final trace of hope in his eyes.

“Romana cannot handle all this...”

Then, very softly, as if every word was draining what little strength he had left, he continued.

“But you can. You are my brother’s only child. Just do not become like your father.”

A flicker of hesitation appeared in Shahram’s eyes.

“I am not worthy of this, Uncle. Please do not do this.”

But Saarim steadied his breathing and gave an order.

“Call my lawyers.”

Within a short time, the documents were prepared. With the last of his awareness, Saarim transferred all his wealth, businesses, and assets into Shahram’s name.

Some time later, a glossy black BMW passed through the dark gates of the Haweli. Romana Salazaar stepped out, dressed in black with a long coat, her blue eyes alert. The moment she saw Shahram’s vehicles and his guards, she ran toward her father’s room.

As soon as she entered, she saw Shahram sitting beside her father. Her voice sharpened.

“Get out. I need to speak to my father.”

With a faint smile, Shahram rose politely and left the room.

Romana sat beside her father.

“Baba, why is he here?”

Saarim answered in a voice heavy with pain.

“I have given him everything.”

Romana felt as though the ground had disappeared beneath her feet.

“What? How could you do that? What about Salaar?”

Saarim took a painful breath.

“You know exactly what your brother is. He is a devil. How could I hand all of this to him?”

Romana replied angrily,

“He is your son.”

With that, she turned toward the door in anger. Saarim called after her in a weak voice.

“Do not do anything foolish.”

She stopped for a moment, then walked out. The instant she entered the corridor and reached for her phone to call her brother, Salaar Salazaar, one of Shahram’s guards struck her on the head with the butt of his gun. Romana collapsed unconscious.

The guard dragged her into another room, threw her onto the bed, shut the door, and locked it.

Shahram watched from a distance. He walked forward, stared at the room for a few moments, then returned to Saarim and sat beside him again.

Suppressing a smile, he said,

“She got angry and left.”

Saarim closed his eyes sadly. Shahram spoke in a soft, reassuring voice.

“Do not worry. I will take care of everything properly.”

Saarim gave a faint smile.

“I know.”

Shahram took a long breath.

“I have one question, Uncle. When you killed my father, your own brother, did it not hurt you?”

Saarim let out a cold breath.

“He was a traitor.”

Shahram laughed.

“I used to cry for hours. Every day I promised myself that I would avenge him.”

He stood, a cold smile on his face.

“Today I am finally going to keep the promise I made to myself.”

With that, Shahram left the room. The guard standing behind him stepped forward slowly, pressed a pillow over Saarim’s face, and stopped his breathing forever. For a moment, the silence filling the old rooms of the Haweli grew even deeper.

When Shahram reached downstairs, he called loudly for the doctors and the guards of Salazaar Haweli and announced that Saarim Salazaar had died. The doctors examined him shortly afterward and declared him dead. The people of the Haweli stood between grief and fear, as if they could not believe what had happened.

Shahram looked at the lawyer standing nearby and said,

“Uncle Shehzad, tell everyone my uncle’s final decision.”

With a heavy expression, Shehzad read Saarim Salazaar’s will aloud before everyone. The guards listened to every word with shock and unease, as though a great page of the old order was turning before their eyes.

As he took control of his new position, Shahram gave his first order. He looked coldly at two nearby guards and told them to take Saarim to the Haweli cemetery and bury him. The guards hesitated and tried to protest that he had been the head of the family, but one hard look from Shahram silenced them. Even the quiet walls of the Haweli seemed to feel the cruelty of the moment.

Shahram took a long breath and said to Shehzad,

“Uncle Shehzad, call an urgent meeting here at the Haweli in one hour with all our business partners.”

Shehzad lowered his head in agreement and left.

Shahram glared at the two guards and snapped,

“Did you two not hear me?”

The guards quickly lifted Saarim Salazaar’s body and carried him toward the Haweli cemetery. The cold night and the faint movement of the wind made each step feel heavier.

As they dug the grave, the two guards spoke quietly. One of them said,

“Do you think Mr Salaar and Miss Romana have heard?”

The other guard stopped clearing the soil and replied,

“Miss Romana’s car is outside. She is here in the Haweli.”

The first guard spoke uneasily.

“But I have not seen her anywhere.”

Fear appeared on both their faces. One guard quickly pulled out his phone and tried to call the manager, but there was no signal at all. The night suddenly felt darker.

At that moment, one of Shahram’s guards emerged from the darkness and said coldly,

“Mr Shahram had the tower shut down. No one is allowed to leave.”

One of the guards immediately reached for his weapon in panic, but Shahram’s man drew his pistol and shot him in the head. The second guard froze, his lips dry. Shahram’s guard looked at him and said only,

“Finish your work.”

Then he stepped forward, picked up the fallen gun, and carried it away. The night sank into silence once again.

A short while later, the Salazaar family’s business partners began arriving at the Haweli one by one and took their seats in the meeting room. Only four men sat around the large table. The atmosphere inside the Haweli remained heavy and oppressive, as though the walls themselves had absorbed the darkness.

Shahram opened the meeting room door and entered. When he saw so few people, he frowned and looked toward Shehzad.

“Where are the rest?”

Shehzad answered with slight nervousness.

“I was making the calls when you had the tower shut down.”

Shahram replied with irritation and sarcasm.

“Then what are all these telephones here for, decoration?”

The moment the words left his mouth, a thought struck him. He turned to one of his trusted men and ordered,

“Cut the wires to every landline in the Haweli. Leave only the one in this room.”

The guard nodded and left immediately. Within moments, the entire building seemed to fall into an even deeper silence.

One of the men at the table let out a cold breath and spoke.

“What are you so afraid of?”

Shahram gave him a cold look.

“And you are?”

The man answered plainly.

“I am Haroon Iftekhar, owner of Haroon Enterprises.”

The man sitting directly to his left spoke in confusion.

“There is something I do not understand. Salaar Salazaar should be sitting where you are. Where is Salaar? And Saarim sahib died, yet we were not even called when he was buried.”

Shahram straightened slightly in his chair.

“Your questions are fair. Before he died, Saarim Salazaar handed all his property and businesses to me. He did not trust Salaar.”

The third man, who had remained silent until then, finally spoke.

“I was waiting for Salaar to come to power.”

Shahram paused for a moment.

“I can handle all of this better than he can.”

The third man responded,

“That is not the point. Salaar benefits all of us. He has connections with the New York mafia and the Russian mafia. Strong connections.”

The man stood, took a glass from the shelf, and poured himself a drink.

“His father never allowed us to run the drug trade in Lahore, and he probably would not allow it either, but we would still benefit from him.”

Shahram stood as well and stopped directly in front of him. In a low but firm voice, he said,

“What if I told you that you could run the drug trade?”

The man smiled, a faint spark of greed in his eyes.

“Then perhaps we could work something out.”

Shahram reached out and took his hand.

“What is your name?”

The man answered directly.

“Roy.”

Roy shook Shahram’s hand. Shahram looked toward the others.

“Are the rest of you willing as well?”

Both men nodded in agreement.

His gaze then settled on the fourth man sitting at the corner of the table, an older man with a strong build, a thick beard, and an imposing face. Shahram asked,

“You have been very quiet.”

The old man stared at him with anger.

“I have stood with Saarim Salazaar since before your traitor of a father was even born.”

The words lit a fire inside Shahram, but his face remained completely calm. Even the air in the Haweli seemed to turn colder. The old man continued.

“I do not know whether you killed Saarim or his illness did. And where is Romana?”

Shahram’s eyes hardened.

“She is sleeping.”

The old man raised his voice.

“I want to see her.”

Shahram repeated himself in a cold voice filled with restrained anger.

“I said, she is sleeping.”

The old man rose from his chair and spoke with open contempt.

“You have given them permission to enter this filthy drug business. Salaar may be bad, worse than the devil, but he will never tolerate this.”

He stepped closer and spoke even more harshly.

“When he finds out that you have taken over his home, do you really think those one hundred and fifty men outside can stop him? He will skin you alive.”

His words were still echoing through the room when Roy reached for the pistol lying in front of Shahram, picked it up, and shot the old man in the head without hesitation.

“He talked too much.”

For a moment, the room fell completely silent.

A small breath of fear caught inside Shahram, but he allowed none of it to reach his face. He steadied himself, looked at the remaining three men, and said,

“I gave you permission to trade drugs, but in return I want protection from Salaar.”

Roy smiled.

“Do not worry. We will finish him at the airstrip.”

With that, the three men stood and disappeared into the darkness of the Haweli. Shahram remained alone in the meeting room. His eyes settled on the old man’s body lying on the floor. The room sank once again into a heavy silence.

After a while, Shahram went straight to the room where Romana had been locked away. He opened the door and stepped inside, only to realize that she was no longer lying where he had left her. The room was silent, the air strangely still, and the darkness felt heavier than before.

Shahram called out with growing unease.

“Romana? Where are you?”

There was no answer. His heart began to beat faster. He moved toward the bathroom when a gunshot suddenly came from inside. The bullet tore through the door and buried itself in the sofa behind him.

Shahram immediately removed his shoes and pushed them under the bed. Then he opened the room door and slammed it shut so Romana would hear the sound. Moving quietly to the side, he hid just outside the bathroom.

A few moments later, the bathroom door slowly opened. Romana stepped out holding a pistol, breathing hard, fear visible in her eyes. The moment she took a step forward, Shahram lunged from behind to grab her.

Terrified and confused, Romana stepped back in an instinctive attempt to save herself and fired. The bullet struck Shahram directly in the knee. He screamed and collapsed as Romana immediately ran.

Shahram twisted in pain and began to scream. He crawled after Romana, madness creeping into his voice. He knew that if Romana escaped, his life and everything he had done would be destroyed.

He crawled forward and called for his guards. Hearing the gunshot, they rushed upstairs and found Shahram on the floor like a wounded animal. He shouted through the pain,

“Catch her. Do not let her get away.”

Romana ran through the gates of the Haweli and toward the forest. The darkness of the night pushed her to move faster, but Shahram’s men caught her within moments. She screamed,

“Let me go!”

The guards took the pistol from her hand and tied her wrists.

Meanwhile, Shahram was with the doctors. They seated him in the meeting room, where a doctor examined his knee.

“Mr Shahram, the bullet hit the joint. Your kneecap is fractured. You will need surgery. I strongly recommend that you have it done immediately.”

Shahram asked through pain and anger,

“When will I be able to walk?”

The doctor answered directly.

“You will not be able to walk without support for quite some time.”

Shahram grabbed a nearby glass and threw it with force. It shattered across the floor as he screamed,

“Get out. All of you!”

At that moment, the guards brought Romana in. Shahram snapped angrily,

“Sit her in the chair in front of me and tie her up. Then get out.”

Romana struggled against the chair as Shahram used the table to pull himself to his feet. The pain was so severe that cries kept escaping his mouth. He managed a few steps toward her before the weight of his body gave way and he collapsed again.

Even after falling, he crawled toward Romana, a strange laugh forming on his lips. Romana twisted restlessly, trying to free her tied hands. Shahram spoke in a cold, quiet voice.

“Your father is dead.”

Then he laughed as he continued.

“I killed him. He kept begging, but I showed him no mercy.”

Romana went completely still. The body that had been struggling only moments earlier froze in place. Her tears stopped. Her breath seemed to lock inside her chest.

Shahram’s voice began to crack.

“I was nineteen when I lost my mother. I was twenty when my father was killed. I wanted revenge.”

For a few moments, there was only silence. Then he spoke softly.

“I was in so much pain.”

Shahram called for his men.

“Help me up.”

They supported him as he rose. Shahram said,

“Untie her. Let her go wherever she wants.”

The men untied Romana’s hands and helped Shahram out of the room.

Romana slowly rose from the chair and wiped her tears. Her lips trembled as she walked toward the door. Just before opening it, her eyes fell on a telephone in the corner. She stopped.

Still trembling, she walked toward the telephone, lifted the receiver, and dialled a number. The moment she pressed it to her ear, her breathing broke.

“Salaar.”

That single word left her lips before she broke down and began to sob.