Ch2 The Girl in White #3
Vyom blinked, taken aback. "What? Are you certain? You know what it means if we eliminate him."
"I know." My voice was razor-sharp, unwavering. "But let this serve as a reminder to anyone who even dreams of crossing me. I am the king here, Vyom. And a king does not lose. Even in a losing game... I make sure to win."
Vyom smirked faintly, the kind of smirk that came only when he knew blood was about to be spilled. "You'll have word of Luke's death within the hour."
"Very good," I said, leaning back in my seat, my rage slowly crystallizing into icy calm. "And find out whose daughter my father is trying to tie me to this time."
Vyom's lips curled in a humorless smile. "Already done, Sir. He's negotiating with Naresh Bedi-for his younger daughter, Alisha Bedi."
My head snapped toward him. "Bedi? You mean the industrialist, Naresh Bedi?"
"The very same." Vyom's voice was calm but laced with irony. "And his younger daughter-or shall I say, his illegitimate daughter."
My eyes narrowed. "Illegitimate?"
"Yes," Vyom said smoothly. "Alisha Bedi is not the true heir of the Bedi empire. She's the daughter of his mistress. The world knows it, even if they whisper it in shadows."
I let that sink in, then asked, "So there is no rightful heir to the Bedi fortune?"
Vyom's gaze sharpened. "No. There is one. The real heir. Naresh Bedi's elder daughter, born of his lawful wife. Her name... Rivanya Bedi."
The name rolled off his tongue like a secret meant to be whispered in the dark.
"Rivanya Bedi..." I repeated slowly, tasting the weight of it. The syllables lingered in my mouth, refusing to leave.
Vyom continued, "But no one really knows where she lives. After her mother's death, she was taken in by her grandparents. Sometimes she visits her father, but she never stays with him. We've tried to trace her, but... she's like a shadow."
A shadow. A mystery. A name that clung to me longer than I intended.
I leaned back into the seat, eyes half-closed, my hand still clenched around the leather armrest. For the first time in years, my father's manipulations didn't feel like the true threat.
No... the danger now had another name.
Rivanya Bedi.
Vyom's eyes fell on the folded white cloth in my hand. His brows knitted.
"What's this?"
I stared at it for a moment, the fabric still carrying a faint fragrance that didn't belong to me.
"I don't know... maybe someone's belonging. The wind brought it, and it landed on my face."
Vyom blinked in disbelief.
"What...?"
I cut him short with a sharp tone.
"Nothing."
But his gaze lingered, unsettled. He studied me closely, his expression tightening.
"And this ash... how did it fall on you? You look... almost terrifying."
My grip on the dupatta hardened. The divine bhasma still clung to my skin like fire etched by fate. I exhaled slowly.
"It was during the aarti. The wind carried it. Enough questions. Call the driver. I need to get back and freshen up."
Vyom, sensing my temper, quickly signaled the driver. The car roared to life. I turned one last time toward the temple before stepping inside, the dupatta heavy in my hand-as though it carried more than just fabric, as though it carried a bond I wasn't ready to name.
Dhara dragged me through the crowd until we reached a quiet lane. I yanked my hand away, glaring.
"Have you lost your mind, Dhara? Why did you pull me away like that? I would've taught that man a lesson today, but you-"
Before I could finish, Dhara smacked the back of my head.
"Do you ever feel peace without creating drama? Haan? Did you see how powerful that man was? The number of guards he had?"
I lifted my chin, fire blazing in my eyes.
"So what? Do you think I'm scared of him? Never. Don't forget-I'm Maa Gauri's devotee. If needed, I can turn into Maa Kali herself."
Dhara folded her hands dramatically in front of me.
"Arre, my Kali Maa, calm down! Why do you invite trouble without reason?"
I huffed, still fuming.
"Fine, I'll listen to you this time. But my dupatta... it's with him. Do you even know that was my favorite dupatta?"
Dhara rolled her eyes.
"If you stay alive, I'll buy you a thousand dupattas. Now let's get home before Dadaji finds out we've been out since morning. Otherwise, he'll make us stand outside the house like murgas."
Her words hit me like thunder.
"Arre! I completely forgot-it's almost afternoon! We're doomed, Dhara!"
I grabbed her hand and shouted,
"Dhara, run!"
And just like that, I sprinted down the lane, with Dhara chasing right behind me, both of us laughing and panicking at the same time.
We ran breathlessly through the stone-paved courtyard, our footsteps echoing against the ancient walls of the palace.
My chest was rising and falling rapidly, not only from the run but also from the silent fear that was beginning to gnaw at me.
As the grand gates of our mahal came into sight, I could already sense the disturbance we had caused with our delay.
The guards at the entrance straightened instantly when their eyes fell on us. Their stiff shoulders relaxed, and the worry etched on their faces softened into relief. It was clear-our absence had shaken the entire household.
The moment we stepped inside the wide marble-floored hall, my gaze landed on my Mamaji.
He was pacing anxiously across the expanse, his hands folded behind his back, his brows knitted together in deep concern.
This man-my mother's elder brother-had always been the pillar of our family, yet tonight his restlessness revealed how fragile even the strongest hearts could become when it came to loved ones.
I whispered, my voice breaking the heavy silence,
"Mamaji..."
At the very same moment, Dhara's soft voice followed mine, trembling yet affectionate,
"Papa..."
The instant his eyes fell upon us, I saw life return to him.
It was as though the suffocating weight on his chest had been lifted.
Without waiting another second, Dhara and I rushed forward, our steps hurried and desperate, and the next moment we were wrapped in his arms.
His embrace was tight, almost trembling, as though he feared we might slip away again.
"Where were you both?" his voice cracked slightly, the sternness failing to hide the relief that overwhelmed him. "Do you even know how worried we were? The entire house was in panic!"
I lowered my gaze, guilt pinching my heart. "I'm sorry, Mamaji. The temple was unusually crowded today, and it took much longer than we thought."
Dhara added quickly, clutching his sleeve like a child seeking forgiveness. "Yes, Papa... and I hadn't carried my phone with me. Rivanya's phone battery had already died. We should have been more careful. Sorry..."
Before Mamaji could say more, a familiar voice reached us from the kitchen corridor. My Mami-Dhara's mother, who had always been like my own mother too-came rushing in. Her face was pale with fear, her hands trembling as she caught us both in a fierce embrace.
"My daughters..." she whispered, pressing frantic kisses to our foreheads. I felt the damp warmth of her tears against my skin as she cupped my face. "Do you even realize how frightened we were? Don't ever do this again. Don't leave without telling us, not like this..."
Dhara and I clung to her just as tightly, the two of us burying our faces into the comfort of her sari, silently absorbing the love and the worry that only a mother's heart could carry. For a moment, the tension in the hall dissolved into the soft bond of family.
But then Mamaji's voice, firm yet weary, interrupted the moment.
"Go upstairs, both of you. Meet your Nana first. The doctor just left after checking on him."
My breath caught instantly. Fear tightened its hold on me.
"What happened to Nanu?" I asked, my voice rising in panic. "Why did the doctor come?"
Dhara, her eyes wide with sudden alarm, echoed me, "What happened to Dadaji, Papa?"
Mamaji lifted his hand gently, as if calming two restless birds. "Don't worry. It was nothing too serious. His blood pressure shot up from all the stress, and he fainted for a while. The doctor said he's stable now. But the scare... it was enough."
Without waiting for another word, Dhara and I exchanged a terrified glance before we both turned and dashed toward the staircase, our anklets chiming against the marble floor.
The urgency in our steps was heavier than before, but this time it wasn't because of being late-it was because of fear.
Fear of seeing our beloved Dadaji weak, fear of realizing how fragile even the strongest members of our family could become.
My heart thudded painfully in my chest as we ran up, prayer after prayer slipping silently through my lips.