The moment he stepped out of the classroom, the smile vanished from his face.
Completely.
His phone was already pressed against his ear.
"Where?"
His voice was cold.
Dangerously cold.
The man on the other side answered immediately.
"BlackThrone, sir. Emergency meeting."
"I'll be there."
The call ended.
Within minutes, Ivaan's black car was speeding through Manhattan traffic.
The university disappeared behind him.
Professor.
Trustee.
All those roles stayed at Blackwood.
Now—
The Devil was returning.
Half an hour later.
BlackThrone.
The top floor conference room was already occupied.
Several men sat around the massive black table.
Nobody spoke.
Nobody dared.
Because they were waiting for one person.
The door opened.
Ivaan entered.
Every man instantly stood.
"Sir."
He ignored the greeting and walked directly to the head chair.
Sitting down.
"Report."
One of his men immediately stood.
"There has been movement at the eastern docks."
Ivaan's eyes narrowed.
"Whose?"
The answer came.
And the room became silent.
Very silent.
Because the name belonged to one of the few organizations bold enough to challenge the Mehra Empire.
The atmosphere instantly changed.
Several men looked nervous.
Others looked worried.
Ivaan looked neither.
He simply listened.
Every detail.
Every movement.
Every report.
Once they finished—
He leaned back.
Thinking.
Calculating.
Planning.
Then finally—
"Prepare everyone."
The men straightened.
"We move tonight."
The room froze.
Because whenever Ivaan personally moved—
Things got dangerous.
Very dangerous.
Meanwhile.
At Blackwood University.
Ishira sat in the cafeteria with Kiara.
Trying to enjoy her food.
Trying not to think about Ivaan.
Failing.
Completely failing.
"You're doing it again."
Kiara pointed her fork at her.
"What?"
"Thinking."
"I'm always thinking."
"About him."
"No."
"Yes."
"No."
"Yes."
Ishira threw a napkin at her.
Unfortunately, Kiara was right.
Because something about the look in Ivaan's eyes before he left bothered her.
It wasn't anger.
It wasn't annoyance.
It was something else.
Something darker.
Something dangerous.
And for the first time—
She realized she knew Professor Ivaan Mehra.
She knew Trustee Ivaan Mehra.
But she knew absolutely nothing about the Devil hidden beneath them both.
The meeting at BlackThrone ended close to midnight.
The conference room slowly emptied as executives and trusted men left one after another.
Orders had been given.
Business had been settled.
Now another matter awaited him.
London.
Ivaan closed the last file on his desk and stood up.
Immediately, the men around him straightened.
"Prepare the jet."
"Yes, sir."
A few minutes later, he walked out of BlackThrone.
Outside, a convoy of black SUVs was already waiting.
Zyan was leaning against one of the vehicles, scrolling through his phone.
The moment he saw Ivaan, he groaned dramatically.
"Tell me we're not flying across continents for another boring business meeting."
"It's not boring."
"That's exactly what a boring person would say."
Ivaan ignored him and entered the SUV.
Zyan followed.
The convoy immediately moved toward the private airport.
The runway lights illuminated the dark night.
Ivaan's private jet waited silently.
Several men secured the surroundings while pilots prepared for departure.
Within minutes, Ivaan and Zyan boarded.
The aircraft lifted into the night sky.
Leaving New York behind.
For several hours, the cabin remained quiet.
Ivaan worked on his laptop.
Contracts.
Reports.
Business documents.
While Zyan alternated between sleeping and complaining.
A normal flight.
Eventually, the jet descended through London's cloudy skies.
Rain covered the city.
Luxury cars were already waiting on the runway.
The moment they landed, the convoy headed directly toward a private business tower in central London.
The entire top floor had been reserved.
Security stood at every entrance.
No outsiders.
No interruptions.
Inside the conference room sat only one man.
Waiting.
Calm.
Confident.
Dangerous.
The moment Ivaan entered, the man's eyes lifted.
Recognition flashed instantly.
Because this wasn't some ordinary businessman.
This was—
Aryan Sharma.
The elder brother of Ishira Sharma.
One of the most powerful businessmen in Europe.
And one of the very few men who considered Ivaan Mehra a rival rather than a superior.
Aryan remained seated.
"I thought New York traffic was bad."
Ivaan took the seat opposite him.
"I thought London weather was worse."
Zyan immediately sighed.
"They started already."
Neither man cared.
The meeting began.
For nearly an hour they discussed business.
International investments.
Shipping routes.
Influence.
Expansion plans.
Numbers worth billions passed across the table.
Every word calculated.
Every decision important.
Finally, Aryan closed the last file.
"The deal is done."
Ivaan nodded once.
"Good."
The business part was over.
But neither man moved.
Because both knew there was something else.
Something personal.
Aryan slowly leaned back in his chair.
His gaze hardened.
"I heard something."
Ivaan remained silent.
"I heard my sister's name."
The room instantly became quieter.
Even Zyan sat up straighter.
Aryan's expression darkened.
"Stay away from Ishira."
For a moment—
Nothing happened.
Then Ivaan laughed.
A low, amused laugh.
The reaction immediately irritated Aryan.
"You think that's funny?"
"Very."
Aryan's jaw clenched.
"I'm serious."
"So am I."
The tension in the room increased instantly.
Aryan stood from his chair.
"Ivaan."
His voice was calm.
Dangerously calm.
"My sister has nothing to do with our world."
Ivaan's eyes remained cold.
Unbothered.
"Then perhaps you should tell your sister that."
Aryan's expression became even darker.
For several seconds neither man looked away.
Two powerful men.
Two kings.
Neither willing to step back.
Finally Aryan spoke again.
"If she gets hurt because of you..."
His voice carried a warning.
"...every agreement between us ends."
Silence.
The threat lingered in the air.
Ivaan slowly stood.
Adjusted the sleeve of his black shirt.
Then looked directly at Aryan.
A dangerous smirk appeared.
"The day I need permission regarding Ishira Sharma..."
His voice was calm.
Cold.
Confident.
"...I'll let you know."
Zyan immediately looked toward the ceiling.
Because this conversation was becoming very personal.
Very quickly.
Aryan folded his arms.
"She's my sister."
Without missing a beat, Ivaan replied—
"And she's capable of making her own decisions."
The room fell silent.
Aryan and Ivaan stared at each other.
Neither winning.
Neither losing.
Just two rivals refusing to bend.
Finally, Ivaan picked up his coat.
The meeting was over.
As he walked toward the exit, Aryan's voice followed him.
"Stay away from her, Mehra."
Ivaan stopped at the door.
Only for a second.
Then a faint smirk appeared.
Without turning around, he replied—
"We'll see."
And with that, the Devil walked away.
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