The Mumbai evening sky looked like a canvas splashed with molten gold and deep violet, as if the city itself dressed up for the night. Streetlights flickered awake while luxury cars sliced through the traffic, their polished chrome gleaming under neon billboards. At Nariman Point, a chic café glowed like an opulent jewel—glass walls, Italian marble, soft jazz floating in the background. A place where deals weren’t just signed, they were sealed in style.
Inside, the hum of muted conversations filled the air, but at a corner table, tension burned hotter than the steaming espresso.
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