The Deceit

CHAPTER 11

VISHNU

I return to the apartment after leaving Veer in Claire’s care for his afternoon nap. The moment I step in, I feel it. Something is off. I can’t explain it, but it’s like a knot in my chest that just won’t loosen. As I cross the room, one of my men monitoring the CCTV footage of Simran’s boutique looks up and calls out, “Boss, there was a power outage at the boutique.”

I freeze mid-step. “What? How long was it out?”

“Only three seconds before the backup kicked in,” he says, turning the laptop towards me. “But the cameras… they’re still rebooting.”

An uneasy sense of dread churns within me. I don’t like this. Something about it feels wrong. I grab my phone, my fingers already hovering over Abhay’s contact to check on Simran, when it starts ringing in my hand.

It’s Abhay.

Before I can say a word, his panicked voice cuts through the line.

“Vishnu, Simran’s not in the boutique.”

It feels like the ground beneath has been ripped out. I grip the phone tighter, my heart thundering in my chest.

“What do you mean she’s not there?”

“She went to the washroom right before the power outage, but it’s been ten minutes, and she still hasn’t come back. I checked. She’s not there, Vishnu. She’s gone.”

“What the hell, Abhay!” I roar, pacing the room as rage and panic twist together inside me. “How did you lose her?”

“The cameras were down during the reboot,” Abhay says, his voice strained. “We don’t know where she went. I’m looking into the building’s footage now, and my men are already searching for her.”

“Sir!” One of my men, monitoring the building’s footage here, suddenly shouts. “There she is!”

I practically leap towards the laptop, my eyes scanning the footage, tracking her every move.

The footage shows Simran slipping out of the building five minutes ago. Alone . She’s heading down the street. No guards. No protection. Just her.

Relief washes over me that she isn’t in immediate danger, but it is soon replaced by an unadulterated fury. She’s walking around completely vulnerable, coolly defying all the protocols I’ve set to keep her safe. She knows damn well there’s a threat, knows what’s at stake. Still, she’s out there on her own, risking everything. What the hell is she thinking?

“Abhay, find her!” I snap through the phone. “Search every block in the vicinity. I’m coming there.”

I storm out of the apartment, my blood boiling. Every step I take feels like I’m dragging a freight train of fury behind me. I stop at the elevator just long enough to bark orders at the guards stationed there to keep an eye on Veer, before stabbing the elevator button repeatedly, as if sheer force could make it arrive faster.

I try calling Simran’s number, muttering a curse when it goes unanswered.

“Simran’s phone is still in her cabin. She left it behind,” Abhay’s voice comes through the line again.

“Damn it!” I slam my fist against the elevator wall as I step inside, my mind already racing with possibilities of where Simran could have gone, of what could happen to her. My gut clenches as I imagine the worst.

The elevator doors slide open to the parking level, and I stride toward my Ford F-150 Raptor—a beast of a machine, all raw power and muscle, perfect for someone my size, and exactly what I need right now. I throw myself into the driver’s seat and rev the engine, its deep roar echoing my own fury. I need to get to her. Now!

The wheels screech as I hit the accelerator, my foot heavy on the pedal as I tear through the streets, weaving in and out of traffic. Abhay is still on the call, but none of his updates are positive yet.

“We’re checking every block,” he informs me. “She couldn’t have gone far.”

But I barely hear him.

My hands grip the steering wheel tighter, and the panic inside me mounts.

This isn’t the first time I’ve felt this kind of terror.

Six years ago, I was at a public event with my father, Pratap Walia.

I was his personal bodyguard back then, keeping him safe from the countless threats that came with being a politician. It was a crowded event, and suddenly, out of nowhere, a deafening crack of a bullet echoed through the air.

The bullet missed my father by inches, hitting the wall behind him instead. I remember the chaos, the screaming, the surge of anger and adrenaline as I spotted the sniper in the adjacent building.

“Target at two o’clock!” I’d shouted to my team, my eyes locked on the shooter.

But it was too late. I saw the glint of the scope, the subtle shift in his position, and I knew. He had pulled the trigger again. In that split second, there was only one choice. I lunged forward, my body becoming a shield between the bullet and my father.

But now, as I tear through the streets, trying to find Simran, the same cold, gut-wrenching fear courses through me. The scar on my shoulder throbs with the memory, but the fear I felt at that time pales in comparison to what I’m feeling now. Still, that was different. Then, I was in control. I could act. I could protect. But now? Simran is out there somewhere, alone, vulnerable, and I have no idea where to find her.

I can’t lose her. Not now, not ever. And certainly not because she’s too damn stubborn to follow my orders.

My hands clench the steering wheel tighter as I take a sharp turn, the truck’s tyres squealing in protest. Every second she’s out there alone is another second something horrible could happen to her.

“Vishnu!” Abhay’s voice cuts through my spiralling thoughts. “One of our men has spotted her heading toward Carlton Street.”

I immediately change direction, the truck’s powerful engine responding instantly to my command. My jaw is clenched so tight it hurts, but I barely notice. All I can think about is finding her, getting her to safety, and then... Then, we’re going to have a serious conversation about what she’s done.

The rage building inside me is unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. It’s not just anger at her recklessness—it’s fear, raw and primal, mixed with something else I’m not ready to name. Something that makes this fear so much worse than what I felt when I took that bullet for my father.

Because this isn’t just about duty or responsibility anymore. This is about Simran, and the thought of anything happening to her makes my blood run cold. I’m not just afraid of failing to protect her—I’m afraid of losing her.

I slam my fist against the steering wheel. Damn her stubbornness. She has no idea what she’s putting me through.

“She’s not in Block 42 or 43,” Abhay’s tense voice comes through the line. “That leaves us with two options: Block 57 and Block 60.”

My grip tightens around the steering wheel as I veer into the traffic.

“I’m five minutes away from Block 60,” I reply.

“I’ll check Block 57 first and meet you if I don’t find her there.”

Before I can even acknowledge his plan, Abhay’s voice comes through again, but this time, it’s sharper, panicked.

“Wait! I can see her. She’s at Block 57. Walking alone.”

My heart skips a beat, relief momentarily flooding through me. She’s okay. She’s safe. But the anger, the rage bubbling beneath that relief, surges forward again. I don’t hesitate for a second, yanking the wheel hard to the left, the Raptor’s tyres screeching again against the tarmac as I make the turn.

The engine roars as I push it harder, and then I see her. She’s strolling down the street, all alone, as if she hasn’t just sent my entire security team into a frenzy.

Within seconds, four black SUVs and my Raptor converge on the street, tyres screeching as we create a tight perimeter around her. Simran jumps at the sound, her eyes widening as she spins around, trying to make sense of what’s happening. She’s trapped—just like I want her to be. There’s no running from this conversation now.

I slam the door open and get out of my car, my rage boiling over. The sunglasses I’m wearing suddenly feel suffocating. I rip them off and throw them to the ground with enough force to shatter them. Nothing can calm the fury inside me as I stride toward her.

My men are already out of their vehicles, forming a large, tight circle around her as I stride forward, each step fuelled by rage and fear, and something else that makes my chest feel like it’s going to explode. Simran looks shocked, completely caught off-guard to see me here. Before she can even open her mouth, I grab her arms and pull her roughly toward me.

“What the hell were you thinking?” The words tear from my mouth, harsh and raw. She flinches at my grip, but I’m too far gone to ease up. “Leaving the premises without guards? Do you have any idea how reckless you were being?”

Her eyes widen, but she remains silent. She’s still processing the rage, the fury that I’m barely holding back.

“If you want to put your life at risk to satisfy your own damn ego, and to prove that you don’t need protection, then I have no intention to go out of my way and save you either!”

She tries to pull her arm free, but I don’t let go, my grip firm. I can’t. Not yet. Not until she hears everything I have to say.

“But tell me one thing, Miss Simran Thakkar. Is this the kind of life you want for Veer?” I ask, my voice dripping with venom.

I see the colour drain from her face, but I can’t stop. Not now. The fear I’ve been feeling for the past thirty minutes transforms into words that I can’t hold back.

“A mother who throws herself into danger without a second thought? Seriously, Simran? This is how you repay your son who needs you. Who depends on you?”

In an instant, something snaps in her eyes, and she shoves against my chest.

“What else did you expect me to do then?” she yells, matching my anger with her own. “You’ve been ignoring me for the past three days! I’ve tried calling, messaging, anything to get through to you, but you shut me out! How the hell was I supposed to deal with that? Tell me—what did you want me to do?”

Her words come faster now, almost desperate.

“All I wanted was for us to talk it out, and this was the only way—my only chance—to reach you at home without your guards tipping you off that I was coming to confront you. But there’s a cab strike today, and I left my car keys in the office. I couldn’t even call anyone because I left my phone there too... I couldn’t think straight, Vishnu. I was losing my mind!”

She glares at me, her chest rising and falling with the same frustration that’s coursing through me.

“ You were losing your mind?” My fingers tighten on her arms as I lean closer, my voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “Only because I ignored you for three days?”

The rage builds again, explosive and unstoppable, as I continue to vent.

“You have deceived me, Simran. For eighteen months, you’ve kept me in the dark about the biggest truth of my life—something that I deserved to know. You hid my son from me!” My voice rises an octave.

“Not just three days—if I were to ignore you for the next three years, it still wouldn’t come close to the punishment you deserve!”

I see the shock register on her face, but it quickly transforms into her own anger.

“Oh, I get it... I know what I did was wrong, and I deserve to be punished. But tell me, Mr. Vishnu Pratap Walia, where were you?” Her eyes are blazing now, tears threatening to spill over. “Where were you in these last eighteen months? You never called. You never even once checked on me. You never cared to see if I was okay!”

Her voice breaks, but she keeps going, each word cutting deeper, like a knife in my chest.

“We had shared a night together, Vishnu. And you and I both knew that it wasn’t just a fleeting moment of passion. It meant something more to both of us. Even then, you went missing the last eighteen months. Where the hell were you exactly?”

She lets out a bitter laugh that hits me harder than her blows.

“You don’t have any answer for that, do you? Okay, let me tell you where you were. You were with your family—the Walias— protecting them, shielding them, and fighting battles for them. They were your only priority, and they always will be.”

Her words hit me like a truck, leaving me momentarily speechless. She’s right, isn’t she? My family have always been my priority, and in protecting them, I lost sight of everything else. But that still doesn’t excuse what she did. It doesn’t change the fact that she deceived me.

The words keep spilling out of her—each one laced with more guilt, frustration, and a raw, aching truth.

“I know I didn’t do the right thing hiding Veer from you. I became selfish,” she admits, her hands trembling against my chest. “When I found out I was pregnant, I was afraid you wouldn’t let me fly to New York to pursue my dreams. I feared that you would keep me in India with you for our child’s sake, without me having any say in that decision. I just knew it.”

I stand there, my hands clenched into fists, my body rigid, trying to process every word.

“I came to New York in that same confusion,” she continues, her voice rising with desperation. “Throughout those nine months of my pregnancy, I was trying to figure out if I should tell you or not. Every day, I wanted to pick up the phone and let you know about our child. But my selfishness kept holding me back. And then… it was too late. I couldn’t just call you and drop that bombshell.”

Her eyes flash with renewed anger, and she hits my chest in frustration.

“But what about you, Vishnu? Where were you?” Another hit to my chest, harder this time. “I know your family meant everything to you. I know you were busy protecting them, building your career, planning to step up in your father’s shoes and enter politics. But in the middle of all this, why couldn’t you just make one phone call and ask about my well-being?”

Her sobs grow louder. Her words sting, but I can’t let that show. I’ve been carrying my own anger, my own pain. I don’t have space for hers right now.

“You didn’t miss me even once, Vishnu. You forgot me. You conveniently forgot what happened between us that night,” she accuses, practically shouting now as tears stream down her face. “We may not have been in love back then, but we still had something between us. I kept checking with Meher about you... I stayed updated on every little detail of what you were doing—be it your career or your family relationships with Meher and your father. But you?” She lets out a bitter laugh. “Did you ever check with Meher once about me? I doubt it. Your ego was too inflated to let your sister know that you had a soft corner for me.”

Suddenly, she grabs my collar, pulling me closer, her eyes burning with a fire that matches my own.

“Do you remember what you said that morning before you left? That ‘we aren’t finished yet.’ You said it, Vishnu, and then you walked away yourself finishing that thing between us. You did it. Not me .” Her grip tightens, her voice laced with pain. “You made it impossible for me to feel safe, to feel like I could come to you and tell you about Veer. You didn’t care about me enough to reach out, so I stopped trying.”

Her words hang in the air like a weight too heavy to bear.

“That’s why I gave up, Vishnu. I gave up that thought of ever telling you about Veer because I didn’t want you to care for me only because we had ‘Veer’ in the picture now. I knew if you found out about your son, you would leave everything to come to him and try to mend whatever was between us. But I didn’t want that. I didn’t want you to come to me, to care for me only for this. I wanted you to care for me on your own terms, not just because I gave birth to your son.”

Each word sinks into me, forcing me to confront the uncomfortable truths I’ve been avoiding. She’s right. In some ways, I did leave. I did let my family take over my life. I did let her fade into the background. But again… that doesn’t justify what she did—keeping my son from me for eighteen long months.

Silence hangs between us, my chest heaving with the effort to keep my emotions in check. I’m so angry I can barely breathe. When I finally speak, my voice is softer, though the anger hasn’t completely disappeared.

“My not contacting you for eighteen months and you hiding such a crucial truth about my son’s existence from me are not comparable. I may not have called you, but you hid my son from me. That’s not the same thing, Simran. You lied to me. You can’t hide your deceit behind my negligence in not reaching out to you.”

She looks at me, her eyes wide and brimming with tears.

“Then you tell me now!” she explodes. “What do you want me to do? I’ve been going mad for the last three days, thinking about what I should do to make things right now?”

If only I had an answer to that.

Around us, my men—including Abhay—stand as silent spectators to this messy confrontation. They don’t move, don’t speak, but their presence is heavy, like a wall pressing down on us both. They’re waiting, watching, but I know they won’t interfere. This is between me and her. Abhay stands closest, his usually stoic expression betraying concern as he watches us tear each other apart with words and truths long left unspoken. These men have seen me face down threats without flinching and have witnessed me take a bullet for my father, but now they watch me struggle with something far more dangerous—the raw truth that I was kept away from my own son.

When I look at Simran again, I really look at her. She’s crying, completely drained, her body trembling with exhaustion and raw emotion. It’s only then that I realise my own eyes are misty with unshed tears. Without another word, I grab her wrist, my grip firm but not rough, and drag her toward my car. Simran doesn’t resist. She’s too tired to fight back anymore. She’s as exhausted as I am, and it’s showing.

She doesn’t even protest when I force her into the passenger seat of the Raptor. She just sits there, staring out the window, her face still wet with tears.

I climb into the driver’s seat and slam the door shut, my hands gripping the wheel so tightly that my knuckles turn white. My men get into their cars and follow, but I don’t spare them a glance. I’m too focused on the road, too focused on the storm brewing inside me.

We drive back in silence, the tension between us so thick that it’s almost suffocating. I steal glances at her from the corner of my eye, watching as she wipes her tears away but remains quiet. I don’t know what to say. I’m still angry, still hurt, but there’s something else creeping in now—the pressing urgency of what I should do next to sort it all and untangle the mess we’re caught in.

The moment we reach the building, I yank Simran out of the car and drag her toward the entrance, my grip tighter than necessary. Her tears have subsided, but her anger is flaring again. She’s resisting, trying to pull free, her voice sharp with frustration.

“I can walk! Stop dragging me like this!” she protests, her wrist straining against my hold.

But I don’t let go. I can’t. The fear and panic of what could have happened today because of her reckless actions still claws at my mind. I don’t trust her not to make another foolish move, and I can’t risk her safety. Not again.

She stumbles slightly as I pull her into the elevator and press the button for her floor. Her glare burns into the side of my face but I refuse to look at her. Simran’s words from earlier keep echoing in my head—the accusations about not calling her, and not checking on her for eighteen months. There’s more to that story than she knows, but I can’t think about that now. I can’t justify anything. My mind is consumed by only one thing: keeping her and Veer safe, and figuring out how we can move forward from here—all three of us.

When the elevator dings open, I don’t give her a chance to take a step on her own. I pull her down the hall and stop at her apartment door. She’s furious now. I know I am acting like a wild caveman, but I can’t help myself. My emotions are all over the place, and I can’t think straight.

“Vishnu, stop! You’re hurting me!” she snaps.

I know my grip is too tight, and I see the marks forming on her delicate wrist, but before I can adjust my hold, we’re at her door.

The door opens, and Claire stands there, her eyes widening at the sight of us—both of us looking dishevelled, emotionally drained, yet crackling with unresolved tension. I don’t give her time to process the scene. In one swift movement, I push Simran through the doorway and slam the door shut, staying outside myself. I look around and release a deep breath.

Just then, Abhay steps out from the elevator, and I turn to him, my voice coming out as a harsh command. “Keep a close watch on her. She’s not stepping her foot out of this place until she has my permission.”

The door reverberates with a loud bang as Simran pounds on it from the other side. “Vishnu, what the hell? You can’t do this to me!” Her scream is muffled but clear enough to make my jaw clench tighter.

Ignoring her protests, I turn away from her door and stride toward the apartment across the hall where my team is stationed. I need space. I need to breathe. I need to process everything that’s happened in the last hour.

I lean back against the couch, staring up at the ceiling. No matter how much I want to be angry with her, no matter how much I want to distance myself from her, I can’t. We have a son together. Our lives are intertwined now. The thought of losing either of them—Simran or Veer—it’s unbearable. I need to figure out what the hell to do next. Because right now, everything feels like it’s spiralling out of control.