CHAPTER 4
VISHNU
I stay vigilant in Simran’s boutique, my eyes constantly scanning the customers and staff for potential threats. The day unfolds around me, as Simran moves from one meeting to another, her voice animated as she discusses designs and patterns with clients and vendors. I can’t help but admire her professionalism, and the way she commands respect in this world she’s built for herself. I keep track of her every step, noting every person she interacts with, every door she passes through.
Julie, Simran’s personal assistant, has been a great help in explaining how things run around here. I learn that Simran offers home fittings for her elite clientele, a service she personally provides only for the most high-profile clients. It’s a clever business model, I think to myself, but it also presents security risks I’ll need to address.
As I study the boutique’s layout and security measures, I can’t shake the nagging feeling that something’s not right. The building’s security is subpar by New York standards, and the boutique itself has glaring vulnerabilities. The CCTV cameras are outdated, with blind spots that could easily be exploited. There’s little access control over who enters the areas where designs and fittings happen, which is another red flag. These flaws need to be fixed immediately.
I approach Julie. “I need access to the CCTV footage from the last month, both inside and outside the boutique.”
She hesitates, glancing towards Simran’s office. I can see the conflict in her eyes, torn between following her boss’s instructions and recognising the gravity of the situation.
“It’s for her safety,” I add, my tone brooking no argument.
Julie’s resolve crumbles under the weight of my words, and she gives me a small nod. As she goes to retrieve the footage, I make a series of calls, setting in motion the changes that need to happen.
I summon two of my guards, who have been waiting downstairs. As they approach, I can see the sharp focus in their eyes, alert and ready for my instructions.
“Starting tomorrow, you’ll be stationed here at the boutique,” I tell them. “One of you inside, the other outside. You’re to maintain constant vigilance.”
I pause, making sure I have their full attention before continuing. “Simran isn’t comfortable with this level of protection. She may try to dismiss you or downplay the need for security. Ignore it. Your orders come from me, and me alone. Is that clear?”
They nod in unison, their faces alight with determination. “Crystal clear, sir.”
As they move to familiarise themselves with the layout, I turn my attention back to Simran’s cabin as she emerges from her office with a client. Her face is lit up with a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. It’s like she’s stressed about something. Our gazes lock for a moment, and I force myself to maintain a neutral expression.
But inside, I’m in turmoil. Every time I see her, flashes of that moment—Simran cradling a baby in her arms—assault my mind. The shock of that revelation still haunts me, a constant reminder of how much has changed, of how much I don’t know about her current life, or rather, I never tried to know.