The Confession Code
A 3-Part Psychological Thriller Series
When a brilliant criminal lawyer receives a cryptic message —
“Silence Before 9. You know why.”
— it drags him into a chilling game of guilt, secrets, and revenge.
Each part unravels deeper layers of his past… and someone else's justice.
---
🔥 Parts of the Series:
Part 1:** *The Message – Silence Before 9*
Part 2:** *The Chamber of Ashes*
Part 3:** *The Verdict Unwritten*
---
---
8:01 PM.
The Mumbai skyline blinked with exhaustion. In a 24th-floor penthouse, Raghav Mehta poured his third glass of whisky, the city’s noise distant behind double-glazed windows. The courtroom had been brutal today—another corrupt builder walked free. His conscience protested, but his wallet didn’t.
He was about to light a cigar when his phone buzzed.
Unknown Number. One message.
"Silence Before 9. You know why."
He blinked. Then reread it.
He didn’t.
Or maybe he did.
The words were chillingly specific. No threats. No explanations. No typo.
Just Silence Before 9.
The timestamp? 8:01 PM.
Exactly 59 minutes to something. Or nothing.
Raghav scoffed and tossed the phone on the table. Probably another disgruntled client. He'd made enemies. Many. But this felt different. It wasn’t a rant. It was… a warning. A ritualistic one.
By 8:05, he had tried calling the number. Switched off.
He texted back: “Wrong person.”
**Delivered. Not read.**
8:10.
His power cut off. Entire flat went dark.
He stood. Frowned. Generator should’ve kicked in.
Nothing.
Then his laptop flickered on, the screen glowing on its own.
No login. No password.
Just a black screen. Then:
YOU SPEAK. HE DIES.
Raghav stumbled backward. Whisky slipped from his hand.
The screen flickered again.
A livestream.
A dimly lit room.
Tied to a chair, gagged: a boy. Late teens. Unconscious. Face bruised.
A timer at the bottom right: 00:48:22
Raghav’s phone buzzed again.
> “You argue to free the guilty. You speak lies in court. Just for tonight—try silence. Your truth is ticking.”
---
8:15 PM.
He paced. Sweating.
Who was the boy? Why him? This had to be staged.
But the room on screen—he recognized the pattern on the wall.
It was from a property his firm helped bury years ago.
The Sion Orphanage Case.
2018. Fire. 5 children dead.
Real estate deal. He proved the caretaker mentally unstable. Acquittal. Land transferred.
The land sold for ₹86 crore.
Raghav got 11%.
What if… this was one of the survivors?
He turned to the laptop.
> "Name the boy and live. Speak a lie, he burns."
Was this a confession trap?
He opened the browser—frozen. No internet access. He couldn’t even scream for help. The phone had no signal. Every camera in the flat now blinked red.
They were watching.
---
**8:30 PM.**
He tried speaking—“Hello?!”
The screen flashed red:
**“WARNING: 1st strike.”**
Then video played.
**Raghav. In court.**
Smirking.
Saying:
> “There is no evidence my client even stepped inside the orphanage.”
Next video:
The charred remains of five bodies. News clips. CCTV footage that was **withheld in court**.
He didn’t flinch watching it. He’d seen worse. But this time, he wasn’t the one holding the remote.
---
**8:38 PM.**
The screen changed again.
A woman appeared.
Face covered in a scarf. Eyes blazing.
“Raghav Mehta. Remember the name Maya Fernandes?”
His face drained of color.
She continued:
“You told me you’d help. You said justice would come. You visited our shelter, saw our wounds. Then you joined the builder who set the fire. My sister died in that building.”
“I begged you.”
“You gave a press interview the next day. Said ‘poverty breeds accidents.’”
The camera shook. The woman was trembling.
“You have exactly 22 minutes to do the opposite of what you’ve always done: Shut up.”
---
**8:45 PM.**
The room chilled.
His instincts screamed to run. But where? It was all locked in.
He opened his mouth again.
The screen cracked. Literally. As if the sound triggered something.
The red light turned yellow.
Then a scream echoed from the stream.
The boy—awake now—looked around wildly. He was trying to mouth something.
Was that… **“Baba”?**
Raghav stared.
No. No no no. That couldn’t be. He never had kids. Not officially.
But there had been a girl. College girlfriend. **Sharanya.** She disappeared after a courtroom betrayal. She claimed she was pregnant.
He had laughed it off.
What if—
He stared at the boy’s eyes. Brown, sharp, defiant.
Just like his own.
---
**8:53 PM.**
The countdown reached **7 minutes**.
A new message appeared:
> “He doesn’t know who he is. You have a choice. Tell the truth. Or keep your silence, as you always have.”
His hands trembled.
This wasn’t just a test.
It was retribution.
But also redemption.
He typed on his phone — knowing it was being watched.
“I am ready. But I speak once. In writing.”
The countdown paused.
A file uploaded to his laptop screen.
Title: **“The Confession Code”**
Password field blinked.
He knew it. Of course.
**“Maya.”**
Unlocked.
---
**8:57 PM.**
He wrote:
> “My name is Raghav Mehta. I am responsible for the Sion Orphanage cover-up. I silenced victims, doctored evidence, and sold that land for profit. The boy in the video... is my son. I abandoned him and his mother. I was told they left. They didn’t. I buried them with the others. Tonight, I confess.”
He hit save.
The screen flickered.
The woman’s voice again:
“You’ve done it. But the confession doesn’t free you.”
Last image:
**A live video from Raghav’s apartment.**
**Police. SWAT. Media.** Already inside the building.
---
**9:00 PM.**
The laptop shut off.
So did the lights.
Outside the door: fists banging.
Then:
**Silence.**
---
🟥 **TO BE CONTINUED in Part 2: *The Chamber of Ashes***
> Raghav’s confession is out. But the real trial is only beginning.
> Someone wants more than justice. They want his soul.
React
