CHAPTER 40! BETRAYAL
Okay... can I be a little dramatic for a minute? ??
You know what? You guys are making me sad.
Since yesterday I've been stressing because my Wattpad wasn't working, and all I could think was, "How am I going to upload the next chapter?" The moment it finally started working, I rushed here to post it for you all.
But then... I checked the votes.
You guys didn't even go back and vote on the previous chapters! Have you seen how less those vote are?
Even though the votes have been really low, I've still been uploading every single day because I kept thinking, "Maybe they'll start enjoying the story more. Maybe today's the day they'll shower it with votes."
I'm not even angry this time...
I'm genuinely hurt. ??
Because as an author, it feels like I'm putting my heart into this story every single day... and it's slowly starting to feel like no one really cares.
You know what? I think some of you have started believing, "It doesn't matter whether we vote or not... she'll upload the next chapter anyway."
And honestly?
You're right.
That's exactly what I've been doing.
I've been showing up every day, uploading chapter after chapter, hoping that maybe this time the love would be returned. But after a while, it starts to hurt when it feels like the effort is one-sided.
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The storm had finally passed by dawn, leaving the mountain air crisp, biting, and smelling of wet pine.
By afternoon, the localized peace fractured. The distant, rhythmic thrum of helicopter blades echoed through the valley, sending dead leaves and mountain dust spiraling into a frenzy as the aircraft descended into a clearing beyond the trees.
On the porch, the old woman stood with her hands tucked into her woolen shawl, watching the sudden, loud intrusion of the modern world with quiet amusement.
"Thank you for everything, dadiji" Tara said, embracing her tightly.
The rest of the family swarmed her with quiet murmurs of gratitude, but the old woman merely waved them off with affectionate exasperation.
"Go. Before you people decide to make yourselves a permanent nuisance."
Laughter rippled through the group, light and easy.
Aadhira stepped forward last, hugging the woman gently. "We'll visit again."
"You'd better, beta."
As the family moved toward the clearing, Aryav remained behind on the bottom step.
He didn't offer a hand, and he didn't offer words.
He simply met the old woman's gaze and inclined his head once-a sharp, deliberate gesture of respect.
Nothing more. Nothing less.
The old woman's eyes crinkled, a knowing smile touching her lips.
She understood him.
When Aryav turned away, his eyes briefly locked onto Vivaan.
It was a single, fraction-of-a-second look. A silent, executive command.
Vivaan gave the slightest, nearly imperceptible nod.
Understood.
The old woman would never have to worry about money, logistics, or safety for the rest of her days.
No one else noticed the exchange.
Within minutes, the helicopter lifted into the sky, swallowing the small house in a cloud of alpine mist.
The flight back was heavy with an unusual, suffocating silence.
As the mountains gradually drowned beneath a thick blanket of clouds, Aadhira spent the entire journey staring out the window, her reflection ghosting against the glass.
Aryav sat directly across from her. Neither spoke. The space between them felt less like peace and more like the heavy, pressurized breath before a plunge.
The helicopter touched down on a private airstrip just outside the city line.
The moment the blades began their dying whine, the atmosphere shifted. It wasn't the usual fleet of sleek, black family vehicles waiting on the tarmac.
There were too many cars. Blue and red lights cut through the afternoon haze, bleeding into the gray concrete.
Government SUVs.
Uniformed perimeter guards.
Waiting. Organized. Expectant.
The family disembarked one by one, the tension instantly locking their jaws. Aryav stepped down last, his dark overcoat catching the wind.
From the center of the barricade, a senior officer in a crisp uniform stepped forward.
The Police Commissioner.
Behind him, a tactical team stood entirely rigid.
The Commissioner's eyes bypassed everyone else, settling directly on the man at the base of the steps.
"Mr. Aryav Rai Singhania."
The wind whined against the metal hull of the helicopter.
"You are under arrest."
No one moved.
Even the wind seemed to hesitate.
Somewhere in the distance, beyond the chain-link fence, a dog barked once before the sound was swallowed entirely. Nobody laughed.
Nobody questioned whether this was a joke anymore.
Aryav didn't flinch.
His eyes swept across every officer. Every rifle. Every vehicle. Every exit. Even now, he was mapping the battlefield.
"Warrant," Aryav said. His voice was low, flat, and entirely devoid of panic.
The Commissioner motioned to an aide, who pulled a stamped, official document from a leather folder and held it open.
Aryav glanced down once, his gaze tracing the judicial seal, before looking back up.
"Proceed," Aryav said.
Shourya stepped into the space between them immediately, his legal instincts finally overriding the shock.
"On what charges, Commissioner?"
The Commissioner didn't argue. He simply handed Shourya a thick, bound leather file.
"Then I suggest you read fast, mr. Agrawal."
Shourya snapped the file open.
He intended to skim it, to find a procedural flaw, but his eyes locked onto the first page.
Then the second.
The color completely drained from his face.
It wasn't a standard indictment report.
It was a precise, cold autopsy of their entire empire.
Page after page of high-resolution photographs, encrypted financial ledgers, translated audio transcripts, and classified surveillance logs.
This was an airtight, inescapable trap.
Shourya's pulse spiked violently in his ears.
How did I miss this? Nobody outside the inner circle could have scraped information this granular.
Not without full access.
Not without a ghost in the machine.
Slowly, his head snapped up, a horrific realization dawning in his eyes.
The Commissioner followed Shourya's gaze, his features settling into a cold, professional clinicality as he looked directly past the Singhania men.
"Every piece of evidence we couldn't reach... your wife handed to us Mr. Shinghania."
The world ground to an absolute halt.
"What the hell are you saying?" Reyansh shouted, his voice cracking the silence.
Arush, looking dead serious for the first time in his life, stepped up.
"Are you playing a game?"
Every head turned.
Not toward the Commissioner.
Toward Aadhira.
Nobody spoke.
Nobody breathed.
Because there were some violations so total that the brain rejected them on impact.
They waited for her to object, to rage, to look confused.
Instead, she stood perfectly still.
"I helped him," Aadhira said.
The sentence wasn't loud. It didn't need to be. It tore through the Singhania family more cleanly than any bullet ever could.
"Pagal ho gayi ho gayi ho kya bol rahi ho." Shourya shouted in anger.
Aadhira avoid his gaze and said
"It's true bhai."
"Bas ek baar bol de..." Tara whispered, shaking her head as her voice cracked under the strain of a reality she couldn't accept.
"Aadhira, bas ek baar bol de... jhoot hai. You don't even know how to lie."
Aadhira looked directly at the Commissioner, her gaze unblinking.
"It's Miss Aadhira Agrawal," she corrected quietly.
"Mrs. Singhania no longer applies."
The use of her maiden name landed with a sickening weight.
"Aadhira..." Shourya whispered, his voice cracking under the sheer weight of the betrayal. "Agar yeh majak hai to bas yahi khatam karo?"
She didn't look at the family.
She kept her eyes fixed on the horizon.
"Yahi sach hai, Bhai."
Silence stretched over the airfield, thick and suffocating.
Aryav hadn't moved since stepping off the helicopter.
Rainwater from the mountains still clung to the hem of his dark coat, dripping slowly onto the concrete.
Around him, questions and demands flew through the air, overlapping in a chaotic, desperate hum.
He ignored all of it.
Then... his eyes found Aadhira.
His face revealed absolutely nothing.
No flash of anger.
No sudden realization.
No betrayal.
The void in his expression was infinitely more terrifying than an outburst.
Aadhira reached into her leather handbag.
She was just waiting for this trip to end.
The movement immediately put the entire airfield on edge.
Tactical officers shifted their weight, the subtle click of safety selectors echoing against the pavement.
Vivaan took a hard, aggressive step forward, his hand instinctively moving toward the inside of his jacket, his eyes locked on her hands.
Aryav didn't turn his head.
He merely flicked his gaze toward Vivaan-a single, absolute warning.
Vivaan stopped dead in his tracks, his chest heaving, forced into submission by his boss's silence even in the middle of an execution.
Aadhira ignored the entire perimeter. The Commissioner remained still, watching her closely, evaluating if she was surrendering physical evidence on the spot.
From the depths of the leather bag, she withdrew a thick bundle of old, low-denomination currency notes.
They weren't crisp bank bands; they were worn, weathered, and bound tightly together by a thick rubber band.
Aryav looked at the bundle.
His thumb stopped against his side.
For the first time since the Commissioner had spoken, something flickered across his face.
The rigid armor cracked.
Aadhira closed the final distance between them, stopping inches away.
Up close, she didn't flinch.
She reached out, took his cold hand, and pressed the heavy, old bundle directly into his palm.
For an agonizing, stretched eternity, neither spoke. The world seemed to hold its breath around them.
"You will need this." she whispered, her voice cutting through the wind.
A single tear escaped and fell from her eyes.