Prologue

Dark again, the London city lights twinkled through the misty air beneath the plane as it circled into the London City Airport, a small airport away from the mayhem of Gatwick and Heathrow. He was a bit tired of the dark, but he needed it to cover himself, to save himself from the very people who cheer for him.
London had been kind to him and given him a great place to raise his family. After all these years, it was still jarring to come into the city from a warm place. As a Delhi boy, he had always found London cold, and flying in from warm and sunny Cape Town was a stark reminder of how far he had come. He now called London home.
The shoot and the meeting with the IPL Cricket council in Cape Town had both been a great success. The latter, a detail he had yet to share with anyone. Nobody, not even his wife, knew he was about to buy a cricket team and send it to the IPL Cricket Tournament in South Africa next May.
Growing up in Munirka, a run-down neighbourhood of New Delhi, had taught him not to share anything with anyone until he had it in his hands. Friends and family had often scoffed at his dreams to see the world, to do the job he loved, and make enough to look after his loved ones.
'Who do you think you are? Amitabh Bachan? Grow up, Amar, that's never gonna happen...' his father, a world-weary, overworked teacher, had said. 'There is no stability in the arts. You need to find a good job so you can take care of everyone when I'm gone. A professor at IIT is better than some wannabe actor.'
He had learned not to share his dreams till they came true. Not everyone is genuinely happy for you all the time or rooting for your success. Life had proven it to him.
He was a self-made man who had fought tooth and nail to get everything he had. The film industry had originally rejected him because his nose was too big, his hair too floppy, and he had a stutter he later learned to mask. He was now the director of several businesses, including a film production company, a publishing agency, and a financial backer to one of India's most celebrated fashion houses.
He found himself smiling at the thought of how far he'd come, recalling how his friends and family laughed at his dreams. Being a world-famous actor wasn't all it was advertised to be. For one thing, he always needed to fly in the wee hours of the morning to make sure he came and went unnoticed. But having a private jet didn't hurt.
As the plane pulled to a stop, his phone buzzed incessantly. A dozen emails, texts, and missed call notifications lit up his screen. The first was an email with a schedule and dates for his latest films' public appearances. The next one informed him of a visual effects glitch he needed to sign off on before the team handed it over. Just as he was about to attend to the next one, his phone buzzed again.
'Beloved Wife,' his phone read. She had been sending him some enticing content lately. He opened it. A sexy picture of his wife, Sashni, in a red lace teddy that left little to the imagination appeared, captioned: "Can't wait to see you!"
Amar put his phone away. Everything else would have to wait.
His wife needed his undivided attention.