The Deceit

CHAPTER 9

VISHNU

The door clicks shut behind Simran, and I step out from the shadows of the other room, my body vibrating with barely contained rage. Every fibre of my being screams at me to storm after her, to confront her, to demand answers for the months—no, years—she’s stolen from me. But I clench my fists, my nails biting into my palms tightly as I force myself to stay put.

I’m a man accustomed to control, to wielding power, to bending the world to my will. But now? I feel like a raging fire, seething just underneath the surface, and Simran is that one spark I can’t afford to ignite.

When I saw Simran lock horns with Abhay today over the fortress of security I’ve erected around her, I almost stepped in to intervene. I wanted to make her understand that these measures aren’t a cage, but a shield. The only thing that held me back was the intense fury still blazing in my veins.

I can’t bear to hear her excuses… to meet those eyes that have lied to me for so long. I can’t even stand to look at her without feeling the urge to vent my frustration. And I refuse to let her witness that primal, savage side of me that I’ve kept locked away behind walls I’ve spent a lifetime building. I won’t let her deceit be the key that unleashes that beast.

Although I know I would never hurt Simran in any way, I don’t trust the wounded father in me to hear her out patiently. So, I chose to put a momentary distance between us, for both my sanity and her safety from my wrath.

Abhay landed in New York last night, and I quickly briefed him on Simran’s security protocols and what I expected from him and the team. He took on the task without asking a single question about who Simran was or what she meant to me. I wasn’t in the right frame of mind to offer any explanations, either. Our conversation was strictly about the threat—one that now felt more real than ever, as we had gathered solid evidence that morning confirming someone was indeed targeting Simran and plotting this for quite some time. She still had no idea of the full extent of the danger she was in.

As soon as Simran leaves, I turn to the team gathered here in this apartment with Abhay and brief them on what needs to be done. Once I’m confident they understand their roles, I nod to Abhay, and we move out to the balcony for some privacy. Inside, the hum of activity begins, and I know this operation is in good hands. But that does little to quiet the storm brewing inside me.

The cool, morning air of New York hits my face as I step outside, the sprawling cityscape stretching out endlessly before us. I pull out a cigarette, lighting it with practiced ease. I take the first drag, and it immediately helps calm my frayed nerves, if only for a moment.

Abhay leans against the railing, watching the skyline before turning his gaze towards me.

“She doesn’t look too happy or grateful for these measures you’re taking for her safety,” Abhay mentions, his voice gruff but not unkind. “But if you’re still doing this for her, despite her resistance, she definitely means something more to you than most.”

I take another long drag, letting the smoke drift into the morning air before I respond, “Simran… she’s the mother of my child.”

I finally let it out. Abhay stiffens beside me, his shock almost palpable. I meet his gaze and nod, confirming what I’ve just said.

“I only found out yesterday,” I continue, the words tasting bitter on my tongue. “She kept my ten-month-old son from me all this time.”

Abhay shakes his head, a dismissive look crossing his face. “Women are complicated,” he says, as if that explains everything. “And this one seems troublesome too. What are you going to do afterwards? When all this is over?”

I’m silent for a moment, my gaze fixed on the city skyline. Anger, hurt, and betrayal swirl within me, warring with the undeniable feelings I still have for Simran and the fierce protectiveness that I now have for a son I’ve barely met.

“She’s not going anywhere. I’ll make sure of that,” I finally declare. “We’re going to raise our son together, whether she likes it not.”

Abhay nods, accepting my decision without question. It’s one of the things I appreciate about him—his unwavering loyalty and lack of judgement.

“Does your father know?” he asks.

I put out my cigarette, crushing it against the ashtray placed beside us. “In time, I’ll tell my family,” I reply. “Right now, let’s get that f*cking bastard who’s troubling my woman.”

Abhay grins at me. The term ‘my woman’ rolls off my tongue with an ease that surprises me. The term echoes in my mind, stirring up every emotion I am feeling right now. I didn’t realise I felt that way until the words were out in the open. But now that they are, there’s no taking them back. I’ll do whatever it takes to protect her and my son.

Because despite everything, despite the lies, the pain, and the years we’ve lost, that’s what Simran is to me. Mine . The mother of my child, the woman who’s held my heart ever since the first time we met.

I lean against the railing, letting out a heavy sigh. The anger is still there, simmering within me like a constant burn in my chest. But alongside it, there’s a fierce determination too—determination to keep them safe, to be the father my son deserves, and to figure out this mess we’ve found ourselves in.

I turn back to Abhay, my resolve strengthening. “We need to move fast,” I say urgently. “I want every piece of information we can get on who might be targeting Simran. Leave nothing unchecked. Whoever is behind this, they’ve made a big mistake. They’ve dared to threaten what’s mine.”

Abhay nods, his expression serious. “We’ll find him,” he assures me.

Yes, we will! Yet, I can’t help but think who would want to hurt Simran? Who in the hell would dare to target her? She’s a beacon of light in this dark world, not someone who leaves a trail of enemies in her wake.

And then there’s Veer—my son, my flesh and blood, a stranger I’m desperate to know. How can I become the father he deserves when I’m still reeling from the shock of his existence? I want to give him the world, to be his protector, his guide, the unshakeable pillar he can always rely on. But how? How do I do that when I’m still struggling to find solid ground myself?

With all these questions swirling in my head, we head back inside the apartment. It’s time to put an end to this threat and claim what’s mine—my son, my family, my life. And God help anyone who dares to stand in my way.

**************

Afternoon

I’m in the living room of the rented apartment across from Simran’s, staring at the newly uncovered evidence against the masked man. Simran left for her boutique not long ago, accompanied by Abhay. And though she didn’t create a fuss, I know she wasn’t happy about it. Part of me believes it’s because she wanted me by her side. I know she trusts me more than anyone else.

And then, I hear it—a loud wail piercing through the silence. Veer .

Without a second thought, I jump to my feet. Every fatherly instinct in me flares up, overriding all logic. The threat looming over Simran and Veer tightens its grip around my chest, and I don’t waste a single second. I pull out my gun from my waistband and storm out, bursting through the door of Simran’s apartment. My gun is aimed and ready, my senses on high alert as I follow the sound of Veer’s cries.

As I round the corner into the living room, I come face to face with Claire, her eyes wide with terror as she clutches Veer to her chest.

“Jesus!” she shrieks, instinctively shielding the baby from me. “Lower that gun!”

Claire is sitting on the couch, with Veer on her lap and a spoon in hand. My pulse races as the realisation sinks in—I’ve just aimed a gun at Veer’s caretaker. I quickly lower the weapon, shoving it back into its holster.

Leila darts across the room, startled by my sudden appearance. She lets out a low growl, her tail puffed up in alarm, before disappearing under a nearby chair. I make a mental note to be more careful next time. The last thing I need is to deal with an agitated feline on top of everything else.

I blink to shake off the adrenaline as I make my way towards my son, who is still crying. Without a moment’s hesitation, I try to scoop Veer into my arms. Claire hesitates for a split second before finally relenting. As soon as I hold my son in my arms, his cries slowly begin to subside. He burrows into my chest, his tiny fingers clutching my shirt, and in that moment, something inside me breaks and mends simultaneously. Veer snuggles into me as if he’s been longing for my presence all along. His small body feels fragile in my arms, and the instant he curls up against me, it’s as if he knows I’m here to protect him.

“Boss, is everything okay?” My guards storm in, guns drawn, ready for action.

I turn and motion for them to lower their weapons, whispering, “Quiet down. You’re going to scare him.”

They appear startled but give a nod, quickly holstering their guns, and the tension in the room slowly ebbs away.

Veer’s cries fade into soft whimpers as he nestles against me, making himself comfortable. Claire, still visibly shaken, stands there with wide eyes, watching the entire scene unfold before her.

I narrow my eyes at Claire. “What did you give him that made him cry like that?” I ask, my voice sharper than I intended.

“It’s his medicine,” she explains, holding up a small bottle. “He’s teething early, and this helps with the nausea he gets after lunch.”

I snatch the bottle from her hand and pass it to one of my men.

“Verify it,” I command, leaving no room for argument. As they leave, I catch Claire’s knowing look. She understands my paranoia and my need to trust no one in this precarious situation.

But then, unexpectedly, she smiles. Following her gaze, I realise Veer has fallen silent, his breathing even and steady as he drifts off to sleep in my embrace. The storm within me subsides, replaced by something far more powerful. He’s my son. He’s mine . And he’s falling asleep in my arms, trusting me completely.

I hold him close, my large hand gently stroking his soft, fine hair. How could I have missed this? How could I have lost out on months of holding him, comforting him, and being the father he deserves? The anger I’ve been carrying around eases as I sit down on the couch, cradling him in my arms. His warmth seeps into me, melting away the rage and torment that has gripped my heart.

Claire gets up to leave, pausing to ask, “Can I get you something? Coffee, tea, maybe some food?”

I shake my head, unable to tear my eyes away from Veer’s sleeping form. I barely register Claire’s departure, lost in the wonder of this tiny being in my arms. My attention is zeroed in on Veer—his soft skin, and the way his small hand twitches against my chest as he dozes off. I tenderly stroke his cheek, brushing my thumb over the curve of his tiny face. He looks like me—too much, really. The same hair, the same sharp nose, and the same tiny furrow that forms between his brows as he dreams. He’s the perfect miniature of me. My son. It’s like I’ve forgotten the world outside. For the first time in what feels like forever, I find a sense of peace enveloping me.

As I stroke his hair, so fine and soft beneath my calloused fingers, I’m struck by how small he is. This tiny life, so dependent and trusting, has turned my entire world upside down. I’ve faced countless enemies and navigated treacherous waters in the political world. But nothing—nothing—has ever made me feel as vulnerable or as powerful as I do right now.

I don’t need to learn how to be his father; it’s coming to me as naturally as breathing. How could Simran have denied me the right to hold him, to protect him, to watch him grow all this time? Veer lets out a soft sigh, his small body sinking deeper into my arms. He’s mine, and no one—not Simran, not anyone—will keep him away from me ever again. I’ll make sure of that.

I press a gentle kiss to his forehead, inhaling the sweet scent of baby powder and a warmth that’s uniquely his.

“I’m here now,” I whisper, a vow meant for his ears alone. “I’ll always be here for you.”

From the corner of my eye, I notice a flicker of movement. Leila cautiously emerges from her hiding spot and slinks onto the couch to settle beside us. As she begins to groom herself meticulously, I can’t help but feel a sense of acceptance. It’s as if she’s decided I’m not a threat after all. With a soft purr, she prepares to curl and relax alongside Veer and me.

As Veer sleeps peacefully in my arms, the tension of the past few days begins to fade away. My eyelids grow heavy, and the lack of sleep from the previous night finally catches up with me. I fight to stay awake, not wanting to miss a single second with my son. But there’s a sense of peace in this moment, a feeling of rightness that I haven’t experienced in ages. With Veer resting against me, for the first time in a long while, I finally feel grounded.

I adjust my position slightly, making sure he’s secure against my chest. His tiny hand instinctively grips my shirt tighter, as if sensing my movement even in sleep. A smile tugs at my lips—my first genuine smile in days.

As I drift off, my last conscious thought is one of gratitude. For this moment, for this precious child, and for the chance to be the father he deserves.

The world can wait. Right now, it’s just me and my son.

**************

I’m roused from the depths of slumber by a gentle patting on my chest and a feeling of wetness on my neck. As I open my eyes, I’m greeted by the most beautiful sight I’ve ever beheld—Veer, my son, snuggled against me, his tiny hands exploring my face with unbridled curiosity. His drool glistens on my neck, a badge of honor I wear with immense pride.

For a moment, I’m disoriented. How long have I been asleep? The soft light filtering through the windows suggests it hasn’t been more than an hour, yet in that brief span, I feel more rested than I have in years.

Veer’s eyes light up the moment he sees I’m awake, as if he’s been waiting for me to wake up and join him. His chubby fingers reach for my beard and tug it with surprising strength, giggling at the sensation. I can’t help but smile—something that doesn’t come naturally to me, but with Veer, it feels effortless.

As I sit up, cradling Veer securely against my chest, Claire emerges from the kitchen. Her face splits into a wide grin, as if she’s witnessing something truly magical.

“Well, look at you two,” she says, her voice warm with affection. “You’ve been out for almost an hour. I’ve never seen Veer nap at this time of day before.”

I raise an eyebrow at Claire’s words, surprised by this new piece of information about my son. Veer continues to tug at my beard, babbling in his baby language, as if he’s got an interesting story to tell.

Claire steps closer, her arms outstretched. “It’s time for his meal,” she explains. “I can take him now.”

But as she reaches for Veer, something unexpected happens. My son tightens his grip on my beard, burrows his face into my chest, and lets out a string of babbled protests. He shakes his head emphatically, making it clear in his own wordless way that he has no intention of leaving my arms.

A warm sensation blooms in my chest, spreading through my entire body. It’s a feeling I can’t quite name—pride, joy, love—all woven together into something overwhelming and beautiful. I smile again, cradling him closer. This little boy, my son, has no idea the kind of power he holds over me.

“He’ll stay with me,” I tell Claire, unable to hide the satisfaction in my voice. “Let me know when his meal is ready. We’ll be back.”

With that, I turn and head toward the door, Veer still in my arms, content and curious about the world around him. I step out of Simran’s apartment and make my way across the hall—to the apartment I’ve rented—my temporary command centre where my men are relentlessly tracking down the masked man who has been threatening Simran.

As I push open the door, the room falls into silence. My men, hunched over their systems and monitoring every possible angle, look up from their work, their eyes drawn to Veer. It’s probably the first time they’ve seen me like this—holding a child with such affection, carrying him as if he’s the most precious thing in the world.

But it’s Veer who truly commands their attention. Unfazed by the eyes on him, he looks fearlessly at each of them. There’s no sign of discomfort or hesitation. His wide eyes take in the room, absorbing every detail, and his little body shifts in my arms as if he’s ready to tackle whatever challenge comes his way. It’s a trait he’s inherited from me. I can see it already—the strength, the courage—it’s all there in him.

In that moment, looking at my son’s fearless expression, I make a decision. These men have been loyal to me and have stood by my side through countless dangerous situations. They deserve to know the truth.

I take a deep breath and adjust Veer in my arms, holding him in such a way that everyone in the room can see him clearly. I address them with pride. “This is Veer, guys. Veer Vishnu Walia. My son.”

There’s a beat of silence before the room erupts into applause. My men, hardened by years of service, smile and clap, welcoming the little boy like one of their own. Veer’s face lights up, and he bounces excitedly in my arms, loving the attention, his tiny hands clapping along with them.

As the applause dies down, one of my men steps forward.

“He looks just like you,” he remarks.

I nod, acknowledging the truth in his words. Veer does indeed bear a striking resemblance to me. But there’s a softness to his features too, a gentleness that is undeniably Simran’s.

“Thank you,” I reply. Then, addressing the room at large, I continue, “I know this comes as a surprise to all of you. It was for me as well. But understand this—Veer is now our top priority. Any threat against Simran is a threat against my family, against my son. I expect each and every one of you to double your efforts. We will find whoever is behind this, and we will neutralise the threat. Is that understood?”

A chorus of affirmatives rings out, and the room returns to its previous hum of activity. I look back at Veer again, who reaches out and pats my cheek, as if showing his support in my pledge to safeguard his mother. I wouldn’t let him down ever. We are Walias, after all. And Walias always emerge victorious.