Page 59 of Okay Boss
The call ended.
Vikram stared at his reflection on the black screen, Mrs. Menon’s words echoing in the silence.
Day Four
The promotional event forDil Aur Deskblazed with light. Vikram’s smile felt stretched across his face, a mask held by habit.
Behind him, the film’s poster loomed, his character applying sindoor. The bitter irony wasn’t lost on the press.
Questions flew. He caught them and threw back rehearsed answers. Until a male voice cut through from the back.
“There are rumors that you enjoy certain... perks... of working with star-struck assistants. Would you care to comment?”
The room temperature dropped.
The moderator’s hand shot up. “That question is not...”
“It’s alright.” Vikram’s voice emerged softer than before. Quieter.
The silence that followed felt physical.
Then he smiled. Not the warm Bollywood-hero smile. This smile showed teeth. The smile of something that hunts.
“I respect every member of my team. Especially those who work tirelessly behind the scenes without recognition.” His eyes locked on the journalist, unblinking. “Their names should never be used for cheap headlines.”
The journalist’s mouth opened, then closed. His hand lowered. He glanced around, suddenly unsure.
The rest of the press conference continued in mechanical politeness, questions rigidly focused on the film.
Back in the vanity van, Rahul paced like a caged animal.
“That cold stare is already trending. Every time you defend her, you’re confirming she matters. Act like she’s just another intern and this dies tomorrow.”
Vikram’s thumb scrolled through Twitter threads. Reddit speculation. Instagram comments under #KhannaSindoorScandal.
Words like “opportunistic,” “gold-digger,” “social climber” attached to her name.
A photo of her building with a comment about “humble beginnings before hitting the Khanna jackpot.”
The rage crystallized into something hard and sharp.
“The Khanna brand is taking a hit,” Rahul said. “Stock price dropped three points this morning. Your father called.”
“I don’t care,” Vikram snapped.
Rahul stepped back, realization dawning. “This isn’t about damage control for you. This is about her. Actually about her.”
Vikram looked up. His eyes were dark. Intent. “I know what to do.”
???
Later that afternoon, a tripod stood in his vanity van, camera pointed at the sofa. No professional lighting. No makeup artist. Just him, a camera, and a decision his entire team opposed.
“This is a mistake,” Rahul said. “Let it die down naturally.”
“Reporters are camped outside her building. Her name is being trampled.” Vikram adjusted the camera. “Die down naturally is too long.”
“What exactly are you planning to say?”
