Syma smiled. “No, Shiva. He’s a master translator. He steals stories, rewrites history, and sells fake relics. He’s turned ‘Rowdy Rathore’ into a cartoon in his country. People there think you’re a joke.”
Shiva kicked the door down. “Tera baap rowdy!” Syma smiled
Syma stepped forward. “But truth doesn’t need translation.” She pressed a button. The real footage of Shiva saving a burning orphanage played on every screen in the city. Syma smiled. “No
“Your film, your legacy, your fear factor—all gone,” Syma nodded. your fear factor—all gone