CHAPTER VII DISGUST & CONCESSION
Diwali night did not soften Delhi.
It sharpened it.
The city glittered like a weapon-gold lights strung over old money, newer corruption, and secrets buried so deep they had begun to rot upward.
Firecrackers split the sky every few minutes, loud enough to swallow sins whole, bright enough to distract the faithful.
Smoke hung low, sweet and acrid, clinging to skin and conscience alike.
The Rajvanshi house was quieter than it should have been.
Vedika stood by the window, phone pressed to her ear, jaw locked tight as clipped Geneva diplomacy spilled through the speaker. On the other end, the Swiss night hummed faintly-orderly, distant, bloodless. The kind of calm that came from believing chaos was something that happened elsewhere.
Devika didi did not waste time.
"This isn't a suspicion anymore," she said. "Sahastra is a front. A clean one. UN-adjacent enough to smell respectable, opaque enough to move bodies like cargo."
Vedika exhaled through her nose. "We already know that."
"No," Devika corrected coolly. "You know parts of it. I know who signed the memorandums."
The pause that followed was surgical.
Tara, leaning against the study table, went utterly still. Tara understood Devika knew a lot more than she was leading them on to, yet she knew Devika had decided their actions stance, three moves in advance.
"Names, Devika di" Tara said flatly.
Devika did not hesitate. "Aurobindo Sen. Rajveer Malhotra. Two shell boards. Three trusts. One philanthropic mask."
Vedika swore under her breath, low and vicious. "I knew these people were funding something far lethal. They are never the good guys, who just go for charities."
"And?" Tara pressed.
"And the woman who keeps their hands clean," Devika continued. "The one who actually understands power."
A beat. Vedika and Tara exchanged a similar look, waiting for Devika to confirm their doubtful conspiracies.
"Ishicka Sen."
The name landed like glass dropped on marble-clean, sharp, unforgiving. Tara sucked in a breath, as she saw that face circle in front of her similar to those years in Cambridge.
Vedika closed her eyes. "You're sure?"
"You went to Cambridge with her, beta," Devika replied. "So did you, Tara. You remember what she was like. She surely married Rajveer Malhotra because he matched his mentality. Stooping low is the forte for these women."
(Beta- baby, or little)
Tara smiled then. Slow. Dangerous. Familiar.
"Oh, trust me" she murmured. "I remember."
"She won't speak to law enforcement," Devika went on, as she sat in the chair of her home office, looking at the fireplace; her eyebrows drawn closer in a determined step. "She won't speak to NGOs. But she will speak to you."
Vedika opened her eyes. "Us?"
"Yes," Devika said. "And Tara-don't let her bait you. Ishicka doesn't bluff. She hunts. Call me when you have further intel."
The call ended, enveloping the room with a thick sheet of heaviness and unsurity, thick enough to choke on. Outside, a firework bloomed-violent pink, then gone.
Vedika turned. "We're going to her house."
Tara picked up her phone. "She won't be home."
Vedika raised a brow. "How do you know?"
"Because Ishicka Sen never stays home on Diwali," Tara said calmly. "She hosts."
_______________
The Malhotra-Sen estate rose like a mausoleum dressed for a wedding.
Lights draped the fa?ade in obscene wealth-warm gold against colonial stone, guards positioned discreetly but effectively. The kind of security that did not wear uniforms because it did not need to. Power hummed through the air like a current.
Tara handed her keys to the valet without a word. Vedika adjusted her dupatta, spine straight, expression neutral. Two women who knew exactly how to walk into a lion's den without flinching.
Inside, the air smelled like jasmine, oud, and arrogance.
And there she was.
Ishicka Sen stood near the bar, ivory silk clinging like a second skin, diamonds worn not as adornment but as punctuation. Her hair was pulled back tight, face bare except for a vicious red mouth. She laughed politely at something a man said-dismissive, surgical-then looked up.
Saw them.
Her smile sharpened. Her eyes fractioned down to amused orbs.
"Well, well....well" she said, stepping forward, eyes flicking between them with delighted calculation, as her hands clasped together. "If it isn't Cambridge's most insufferable power couple."
Vedika did not smile. "Still hosting criminals in designer heels, Ishicka?"
Ishicka laughed. "Still pretending you don't enjoy the view from the top?"
Her gaze slid to Tara. Slower now. Assessing. Old history resurfacing like a bruise pressed too hard.
"Tara Kapoor," Ishicka said softly. "You look... troubled."
Tara inclined her head. "You always did."
They moved without ceremony-through glass doors, down a private corridor, into a study that smelled of old books and fresh lies. The door shut behind them. The party dulled to a distant murmur.
Ishicka poured herself a drink. Did not offer.
"Let's skip the foreplay," Vedika said. "Sahastra."
Ishicka didn't blink. "Ah."
Tara leaned against the desk. "We know it's a trafficking network."
"Of course you do," Ishicka said mildly. "We know your husband and father's name is on it," Vedika added. That did it.
Not shock. Not fear. Annoyance.
Ishicka set the glass down with care, voice sharpening in a manner as if a guillotine dropped on a stake. "Be precise," she said. "I don't like sloppy accusations."
Tara's eyes were ice. "Aurobindo Sen funds it. Rajveer Malhotra launders it. You protect it."
Ishicka clicked her tongue and smiled. "Protection is such an ugly word."
"Then choose a prettier one," Vedika snapped. "Because women are disappearing." Ishicka's gaze hardened. "Women have always disappeared."
"And yet you built a throne on their backs," Tara said quietly.
That landed.
Ishicka stepped closer, heels silent. "You think this is about money?" she asked. "Sex? Cruelty?" She laughed once, bitter. "This is about leverage."
"You're selling human beings," Vedika said.
"I'm controlling chaos," Ishicka corrected, as she inspected her manicure. "Men like my father don't stop. They just evolve. I make sure the violence is... curated."
"You're complicit," Tara said.
"Yes," Ishicka replied simply. "And you're na?ve if you think burning Sahastra won't birth three worse monsters."
"We're not asking permission," Vedika snapped.
"No," Ishicka said lightly. "You're asking me.
" She looked at Tara. "Because you know I can ruin you.
...Or save you." Tara stepped closer. Too close.
Predators meeting eye to eye. Vedika kept her hand on Tara's shoulder, afraid and Knowing of Tara's nature which would trigger Tara to slap the pretentious out of Ishicka.
"You don't scare me," Tara said.
"I don't need to," Ishicka replied.
A beat.
"You want names?" Ishicka asked, as she kept her glass down.
"Yes," Vedika said.
"Routes? Accounts? Judges?" Ishicka continued. "You want to collapse a system that's fed the powerful for decades?"
"Yes," Tara said.
Ishicka studied them. Long. Calculating.
Then she smiled. Slow. Lethal.
"Fine," she said. "But understand this-once you light this fire, there's no moral high ground. Only bodies."
"We'll live with that," Vedika said.
Vedika's gaze flicked-briefly-to a photograph on her desk. Two sisters. One younger. Laughing. Nayonica Sen with her head under Ishicka's arm; both of them laughing toward the camera.
Tara noticed, as her eyes caught Vedika turning back towards Ishicka.
"So how's our little one," Ishicka said softly. "Your Ishaani."
Vedika froze. Tara suppressed a snarl, as she eyed Ishicka disgustedly. "You leave her out of this," Tara said, voice steel. " I'll skin you alive if you even takeher name once." Vedika threatened, glaring daggers at Ishicka.
"Relax," Ishicka said mockingly. "You keep my baby out of it and yours won't be mentioned." Ishicka said as she caressed her hand over the picture frame.
"And Nayonica, does she know?" Vedika asked sharply.
Ishicka's eyes flickered dangerously, "Keep her out of it, don't worry about something which isn't yours." Ishicka glared at the women in front of her. "You're playing with families now," Ishicka replied. "And families break differently."
"We're ending this," Vedika said.
"I know," Ishicka replied, sliding a folder across the desk. "Burn it all. Just remember-you asked for hell. Don't seek comfort from the inferno."
Outside, fireworks exploded-gold, red, violent.
Tara picked up the folder.
"Happy Diwali," Ishicka added sweetly.
Vedika did not look back.
And Ishicka Sen, alone again, poured herself another drink and smiled like a woman who had just placed a very expensive bet.
________________
The car door slammed like punctuation.
Vedika did not wait for the engine. "That bitch," she snarled, yanking her dupatta off and throwing it into the backseat. "If she even breathes in Ishaani's direction-"
"I know," Tara said, lighting a cigarette she should not smoke. Her hands were steady. Her eyes were not.
"You don't," Vedika snapped. "That's my baby. Mine. I raised her. Ishicka Sen doesn't get to touch her world."
"She won't touch Ishaani," Tara said, as she stared out of the car, a raging need to slap Ishicka Sen simmering under her epidermal, "Not directly."
Vedika laughed, sharp. "Women like her don't need hands. They use mouths. Poison."
"She'll go to Nayonica," Tara said, pressing her lips into a thin line "Whisper. Let it rot."
"I'll end her."
"She wants you sloppy."
Tara stared out at Delhi rushing past. "Ishicka learnt that a woman who learned empathy is a liability," she said quietly. "so she turned into a woman who became the knife."
"And I will not let Ishaani bleed for it."
Vedika looked at her. Really looked.
"You're already in too deep."
Tara did not deny it. "You don't understand it Tara. You'll never understand. That's my baby." Vedika said, her eyes reddening, as her amplitude intensified, making Tara grip the cigarette tighter, her teeth grounding down.
'I would never understand? Yes, because It would never happen, Vedika.'
Vedika drove in silence until, the Rajvanshi house was too came in sight, resonating with liveliness.
Laughter. Lights. Noise.
Amaya sprawled on the couch. Mumma upright, immaculate. "Crime queens," Amaya grinned.
"Don't," Vedika groaned.
"You look like you buried a body," Amaya said to Tara. "I wish," Tara replied. Then-
"Ishuuu," Vedika called, voice instantly softer.
Footsteps.
Ishaani descended-loose T-shirt, damp hair, eyes too thoughtful. She froze when she saw them. Her gaze flicked to Tara-
-and away. Too fast.
Tara noticed, as per usual; Hs enoticed even the small tick of Ishaani's eyebrow because she knew how the youngest Rajvanshi operated.
"Goodnight," Tara muttered, already retreating.
Tara did not even look at her. Not even a glance.
And that somehow hurt worse.
_________________
Later, the house slept.
Mostly.
Ishaani crept down the hallway, barefoot, chest tight for reasons she refused to name. She reached her door-
-and a hand shot out of the dark and yanked her sideways.
A gasp tore free.
The door shut behind her with a soft, terrifying click. Dark. Close. Familiar scent.
Her back hit the door. A body blocked her in.
"T-"
"Quiet."
Tara's voice. Low. Commanding.
Ishaani froze.
Thump!
Thump!
Thump!
_____________