On a hot summer morning in New Delhi, in front of a magnificent villa in the city’s most affluent area, a man wearing a construction worker’s uniform covered in cement dust appeared. On his back was a worn-out cloth bag, and he held a hard hat.

As soon as he stepped forward, two black-clad bodyguards immediately stopped him.

– “Go somewhere else! We don’t hire handymen here.”

The man said nothing, just took out a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket and held it up. A bodyguard snatched it, glanced at it, then sneered, crumpled it, and threw it on the ground.

– “You want to see Sahib with this? Go away!”

He stood still, his eyes fixed on the heavy iron gate behind him, as if waiting for someone. Pushed forcefully to the side of the road, he only nodded slightly and whispered:

– “I’ll be back. Within 30 minutes.”

Half an hour later, inside the villa, a party was taking place to celebrate the 70th birthday of Mr. Rajendra Malhotra – Chairman of Malhotra Group, a famous real estate empire throughout India. The entire family was present: children, grandchildren, in-laws, close friends, and the press was bustling.

Mr. Rajendra was reading a speech when the butler rushed in, leaned close to his ear and said something. Just a few seconds later, his face turned pale, his hands were shaking, his voice was stuttering:

– “Where is he…?”

No one understood what was going on. Mr. Rajendra dropped everything and walked quickly to the door under the bewildered eyes of his whole family.

– “Do you still recognize me?” – The man said in a low and cold voice.

Mr. Rajendra breathed heavily, not answering. The man slowly took out an old notebook from his pocket, opened it to a page, and held it up. On the page was a dried blood stain and a scrawled line: “Betrayal is the worst crime in life”, along with a name – Rajendra Malhotra.

The man lowered his voice:

– “Thirty years ago, you pushed me down from the scaffolding to steal my construction site and my fiancée. You thought I was dead. But I am alive… and today, I am back, not to ask for money.”

Mr. Rajendra fell to his knees, his mouth trembling as he uttered a name that his family had forbidden to mention for three decades:

– “It is… Ramesh… My younger brother…!!!”

The entire mansion was stunned. The man who had been declared “dead in a construction accident”, the lost younger brother that the whole family had tried to erase from the family tree – was the same construction worker standing outside the gate that morning.

Mr. Ramesh took a few steps back, pointing to the car parked outside the gate:

– “I didn’t come alone. I came to announce my biological mother’s will before she passed away. She was the one who secretly took me into hiding, and now it’s time for me to take back what belongs to me.”

That night, financial news shook the nation: Malhotra Group officially stopped all operations due to a dispute over inheritance rights. The secret will of the old lady – Mr. Rajendra’s biological mother – was announced, confirming that the legal heir was not Mr. Rajendra… but the younger brother he had harmed years ago.

Mr. Ramesh – the mason who was chased out of the villa gate – turned around and left, leaving behind the dumbfounded eyes of all those who once believed they were “legitimate”.