Every city has secrets. Mumbai’s run on wheels.Mumbai. 2:43 AM.The city looked asleep, but it wasn’t. It never truly was. Streetlamps flickered like tired sentinels as shadows moved across Marine Drive, restless as the sea beside it.Then came the sound.Low. Growling. A roar built for war.A midnight-blue Ducati Panigale, headlights off, tore down the Queen’s Necklace like it owned the road. No number plate. No markings. No fear. Just velocity. As it passed, even the wind seemed to hesitate.On the rider’s back, inked in bold Devanagari script:"Raftaar Sach Dikhata Hai."(Speed reveals truth.)At exactly 2:59 AM, the bike drifted into Nariman