Set Race 2

The next day dawned with a palpable energy as the grounds buzzed with anticipation. Before the start of the horse race, people scurried around, ensuring every detail was in place. Amidst the hustle, J.D. approached Armaan Malik, who stood near the paddocks, overseeing his prized stallion.

"Sir, you have a winner with this horse," J.D. said confidently.

Armaan Malik, tall and imposing, turned to J.D. with a sharp look. "You wanted me to meet someone. Where is he?"

J.D. smiled and pointed across the grounds. "Speak of the devil."

J.D : RAJ!!!

Raj, engaged in conversation with a small group, heard his name and turned. With an air of confidence, he made his way towards J.D., who stood beside Armaan and his sister, Alina.

"Raj, let me introduce you to Mr. Armaan Malik and his sister, Alina," J.D. said, gesturing between them.

Alina, strikingly beautiful and exuding a dangerous charm, extended her hand toward Raj. Her eyes sparkled with a predatory gleam. 

Raj took her hand, his grip firm yet respectful. " pleasure " he replied smoothly. As he went to release her hand, he noticed Alina's fingers lingering slightly, her touch electric.

J.D. cleared his throat. "Armaan sir, Ranveer has a deal for you. You might find it interesting."

Armaan waved dismissively. "What's the rush? Let's talk in the stands."

In the grandstands, the crowd roared with excitement as the horses lined up. Armaan, scanning the field, placed his bet. "One million euros on Blue Lightning."

Raj, standing nearby, couldn't resist a comment. "You shouldn't bet on Blue Lightning, but on Thunderbolt."

Alina, overhearing, interjected, "Thunderbolt hasn't won in the last three years."

Raj smiled knowingly. "Today he will. I've bet two million euros on Thunderbolt."

Armaan raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Thunderbolt will not win. He's not from a winning breed."

Raj's smile widened. "I bet on the jockey, not the horse."

The race began, and the tension was palpable. Blue Lightning maintained a strong lead, seemingly on course for victory. But in the final stretch, Thunderbolt surged ahead, crossing the finish line first. The crowd erupted in shock and amazement.

Later, in the luxurious rest lounge, Armaan and Alina sat with Raj, curiosity piqued. "How did you win the race?" Armaan asked, leaning forward.

Raj leaned back, a hint of mischief in his eyes. "Other than my skilled jockey, I bribed all the other jockeys to lose the race."

Armaan, thoroughly impressed, chuckled. "Alright, Raj. What's your proposal?"

Raj's demeanor turned serious. "I can get you Vikram Thapar's casinos, worth 1,500 million euros, for just 500 million euros. And I want a 10% cut of the deal."

Armaan considered this, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "Agreed. Proceed with the arrangements."

Raj nodded, sealing the beginning of a lucrative partnership. Alina watched him closely, a mix of admiration and intrigue in her gaze. The race was just the beginning; the real game was about to unfold.

-----

Later that night, as Raj approached the casino, he noticed the news flashing on his phone: "The templates used to print euros are still missing, causing widespread unrest among the public." He closed the notification and stepped out of his car, heading into the bustling casino with two heavy duffle bags in hand.

Inside, the vibrant atmosphere buzzed with excitement and tension. Raj walked straight to the counter, where he opened the duffle bags, revealing them to be stuffed with euros. "I'd like to exchange five million euros for chips," he said calmly.

The cashier's eyes widened as they counted the money and handed over the chips. Raj's move immediately attracted the attention of the casino's security, who swiftly informed Vikram, the casino's boss, about the high roller.

Raj made his way to the roulette table, placing the entire five million euros on the number 2. The crowd around him murmured in anticipation as the ball began to spin. Vikram, watching from a distance, grew nervous. If Raj won, the payout would be a staggering 180 million euros.

The ball clattered around the wheel before finally coming to a halt on black 7. Raj sighed, collected himself, and walked away from the table, chips in hand. He headed to the bar, where he ordered a drink.

A few moments later, Vikram approached him with a friendly smile. "Drinks are on the house," he said, introducing himself. "I'm Vikram, the owner of this establishment. You seem very composed for someone who just lost five million euros."

Raj smiled back, taking a sip of his drink. "I didn't lose. I used that amount to get your attention and meet you."

Vikram raised an eyebrow. "You could have just asked for an appointment."

"I didn't want to make you wait for me," Raj replied smoothly.

Vikram, intrigued by Raj's boldness, gestured for him to follow. "Let's talk in my office."

Once inside the luxurious office, Raj laid out his proposition. "I stole the euro printing templates. My plan is to turn fake currency into real euros using your casino. "

Vikram's expression hardened. "That plan has many problems."

Raj stood up, preparing to leave. "No problem at all. I'll just approach another casino owner. By the way, you should change your casino's currency identification system; I used fake notes here tonight."

Vikram shot to his feet. "What?!" His mind raced.

raj " Clearly, anyone isn't willing to spend five million euros just to arrange a meeting "

Raj, sensing Vikram's greed and curiosity, waited. Vikram calculated quickly; if the fake notes could pass through his casino's system undetected, there was a massive profit to be made.

"Sit down," Vikram said, trying to sound composed. "Let's discuss the deal."

Raj resumed his seat, laying out his terms. "I'll provide you with 1,500 million euros in fake currency. In return, you'll give me 500 million euros in real money."

Vikram leaned back, considering the offer. His greed overpowered his caution. "Agreed," he said finally, shaking Raj's hand.

Raj's lips curled into a subtle smile. The game was on, and he had just made his first significant move.

The next day, Vikram went to Armaan Malik, the only person he knew who had the kind of cash he needed. In the lavish office, Vikram made his request. "Armaan, I need a loan."

Armaan studied him for a moment, then nodded. "I can provide you with the money, but you'll need to sign your casino over as collateral. If you don't return the money in three days, the casino will be mine."

Vikram, confident and almost boastful, agreed. "I'll return it by tonight."

By midday, Raj and Vikram met at a predetermined location. Vikram handed Raj 500 million euros in real money, neatly packed in three large bags. In exchange, Raj provided Vikram with 1,500 million euros in fake money that looked indistinguishably real, all loaded into a truck.

Both men parted ways, seemingly satisfied.

Later that evening, Vikram stepped out of the shower, feeling triumphant. But as he dried himself, a breaking news story caught his attention. "The gang who stole the euro printing templates has been caught. Authorities confirm the templates had not been used yet."

A sense of dread washed over Vikram. He rushed, still naked, to the truck and started tearing open the bundles. His heart sank as he discovered blank paper after the first two layers of fake money.

Raj, standing behind him, called out, "Today, Vikram, I see your reflection in these blank notes—both worthless."

Vikram, enraged, lunged at Raj. "I'll kill you!"

Raj effortlessly shoved him off. "Get off me. You don't even know who I am. Why did you do this to me?" Vikram shouted, desperation in his voice.

Raj smirked, his eyes cold. "That's your mistake, Vikram. You should have known who you're dealing with. Now you have enough time to figure it out. Try to think about who I really am."

Vikram's mind raced as he stared at Raj, the weight of his betrayal sinking in. Raj turned to leave, but paused and added, "Remember, Vikram, it's not about the money. It's about sending a message."

Vikram, still reeling from the shock, could only watch as Raj walked away, the realization of his own downfall hitting him like a ton of bricks.