24. Back to Rajasthan.
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Chapter 25, 26, 27, 28 are now available on scrollstack.
[ Username : Sunshine66 ]
11:30 am.
I was standing at the main door of Rathore Mansion.
Jaipur. Rajasthan.
The same house that legally belongs to Samarth Rathore...but is known in the city as Maheshwar Pratap Rathore's mansion.
That will change soon.
Once Bhai comes back, the first thing we'll do is take back everything that carries his name.
I exhaled slowly and looked down at the suitcase in my hand.
Inside it? The key to the cage where my brother is locked.
Raizaada's Grand Aurum Gala jewellery designs.
My fingers pressed the doorbell.
Within seconds, the door opened.
Kanta Aunt stood there, the same middle-aged woman who had been working here for years.
"Dhwani..." she smiled warmly. "How are you, beta?"
I nodded.
Even though everyone here now knows I can speak, habits of silence don't die easily. The muteness wasn't just for Yugant.
It was for everyone.
Years ago, when I ran away from my family, Ranawats, and Bhai found me... I stopped talking.
Not intentionally.
At first, it was fear.
Fear of the past I left behind. If I spoke, he would ask questions. If he asked questions, I would have to tell him about my past.
So I stayed silent.
A few days became weeks.
Weeks became months.
And Samarth Rathore assumed I was mute. I never corrected him. I didn't lie either.
I just... never opened my mouth because silence became my shield from a life I wanted to forget.
But four years ago, everything changed.
Bhai "went abroad for business."
That's what Mr. Rathore told me. "He's busy. Huge deals. Big expansion," he said.
And I believed him.
Because I didn't want to become the weight that stopped Samarth Rathore from flying.
But slowly things started changing.
My medical checkups stopped. My medicines stopped.
I suffer from a chronic thyroid disorder with severe hormonal imbalance and without proper medication, my body weakens.
My moods spiral. My weight fluctuates violently.
My energy crashes. He said Bhai had stopped sending money.
He said there was a huge business loss. He reduced my food.
Removed fruits and other foods from my diet.
Cut off therapy. I started getting worse food than the servants. He told me if I wanted to survive, I should earn.
So I did.
I took out my paintings.
The same paintings Bhai had preserved like treasures.
He used to say-"One day, you'll paint for the world. And the world will pay for it."
I handed them to Uncle.
He sold them.
One painting.
Then another.
Each one sold in lakhs.
I never saw a single rupee.
My medicines didn't return. My diet didn't improve. That's when I understood. I wasn't family for him, I was just an income. I started going to exhibitions and sold a few of my paintings myself to earn something and kept it secret from Maheshwar Pratap Rathore.
The money wasn't very huge, but enough for me to hire a detective, who can look after Mr Rathore and find where my brother is.
But things were not that easy, I couldn't find anything about Samarth Rathore.
Two years passed like that.
Then Yugant came to Jaipur once, looking for Bhai.
I was still mute but with gestures, I asked Uncle, "Where is my brother?"
He didn't tell me. He stopped sending me out, kept me inside the mansion mostly.
I was practically under house arrest.
Two more years passed. He was planning to send me away, I don't know exactly where, but he was planning something big. And that was the end of my patience, my silence.
That day my voice rose for the first time in years and scared me as well.
But his face? That was priceless. I told him I would file a police complaint. That I would find my brother. That's when he showed his real face. He said if I do anything like that no one would trust me.
I didn't understand anything, why did he say that? Why would no one listen to me?
Then he told me, Bhai killed the whole Raizaada family. He disappeared because he killed four members in the same family and fled.
There was a huge case opened in his name and Yugant Raizaada was trying to find him like a mad man, if Samarth came in front of his eyes, he would kill him on the spot.
I knew it was all wrong, but I wasn't able to do anything. And then he made the deal. He told me everything about Yugant.
About the Gala and jewellery designs.
"Bring me Raizaada's designs," he said.
"And I'll give you your brother."
Three months.
That was my deadline.
The day Yugant came again to Rajasthan-Everything changed.
He saw me. He asked if I was Samarth Rathore's sister, Mr. Rathore denied it. Because to him, I was never Rathore blood.
Just a stray Bhai brought home.
That one denial made Yugant assume I was someone Samarth loved.
A girlfriend.
Someone too close.
And that misunderstanding became my entry ticket.
I thought entering Yugant Raizaada's life would be difficult but he took me with him.
Just like that.
For two months-
I lived in the Raizaada mansion.
Silent.
Innocent.
Harmless.
Dumbest.
The same role I had been playing for years. Slowly-I got access to his kitchen.
His bedroom and most importantly his office. His world.
And just when things started getting easier, he found out the truth.
And now-I am back at the starting line again. Standing at the same mansion.
Holding the same questions.
"So you finally came?" His voice echoed from the staircase - sharp, slow, satisfied.
I lifted my gaze and found Mr Maheshwar Pratap Rathore descending the marble steps like he owned the air in this house. That same calculated smile stretched across his face - the one he used when he thought he had already won.
Before I left this mansion months ago, I used to shrink under that smile.
I used to tremble.
Used to lower my eyes.
Used to believe he controlled my fate.
But that girl died in Mumbai.
The Dhwani standing here now had lied without blinking.
Pretended without guilt.
Manipulated access to guarded spaces.
Stolen from a man who could destroy empires with a phone call.
I lived under the same roof as Yugant Raizaada and survived.
If I could deal with him...Maheshwar Rathore was nothing but a greedy old wolf wearing silk.
He stopped a few steps above me, tilting his head. "Where are the designs?"
Straight to business.
No welcome. No drama. Just greed.
I slowly placed my hand on the suitcase handle and walked inside pulling it behind me.
"You didn't even ask how I am, Uncle. Very bad." I said with a mocking smile.
His eyes narrowed. "You're alive. That's enough."
"Oh yes... I'm alive," I replied, dragging my gaze over him from head to toe, disgust curling in my stomach. "But you won't be for long if you keep playing games with me."
His jaw tightened.
In two strides, he was in front of me. His fingers wrapped around my arm, grip hard enough to bruise.
"Where are the designs, Dhwani?" he asked through clenched teeth.
I didn't flinch.
"Where is my brother?" I shot back immediately.
His grip tightened.
"Don't test me."
"Don't you test me," I snapped, yanking my arm free. "I brought what you asked for. Now you give me what's mine."
He laughed. Slow. Mocking.
"You think you can walk in here and dictate terms?"
"I think I've been dancing on your strings long enough," I replied coldly. "Now you show me Samarth Rathore. Alive. In front of me."
His expression hardened.
"First the designs," he said flatly.
"No," I countered. "First my brother."
His patience cracked. "Your brother is not in India."
My heart skipped.
"Where is he?"
He leaned closer. "UAE."
UAE?
"In jail," he added softly. "And whether he walks out of there... depends entirely on how obedient you remain."
My fingers tightened around the suitcase handle.
"Proof," I demanded.
He smirked. "First. The. Designs."
I kicked the suitcase forward. It scraped against the marble and stopped at his feet.
Without breaking eye contact, I bent down, unzipped it, pulled out the file before flinging it straight at his chest.
It hit him harder than I intended. For a second, his face darkened. But the anger vanished the moment he opened it.
His eyes scanned the first page.
Then the second and then third.
A slow, greedy smile spread across his lips.
"Impressive," he murmured. "I never thought a stray girl like you could be this... useful."
The word stray cut deep but I didn't react. I stepped closer instead.
"Proof, Mr. Rathore," I said, my voice cold and steady. "I want proof my brother is alive. And I want a way to meet him."
He didn't look up.
He was still staring at the designs like they were diamonds.
"You'll get what you're promised."
"No," I said sharply. "Not promises. Proof."
His eyes finally lifted to mine.
"And if I don't?"
I leaned forward slightly.
"Then I take that file, pour kerosene on it, and burn Raizaada's entire Grand Aurum dream right here in your living room."
His smile faded.
"You wouldn't dare."
"Try me," I replied. "I survived you. I survived Raizaada's. I have nothing left to lose."
For a moment, we stood there in silence.
Two predators.
One file.
One life hanging in between.
He slowly closed the file.
"You've grown teeth," he said quietly.
"And you've grown careless," I shot back. "Now show me my brother."
His jaw clenched then he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone.
He unlocked it before turning the screen toward me.
And my world stopped. On the screen was a photo.
Samarth Rathore.
Thinner.
Bearded.
Wearing a prison uniform.
Behind bars.
UAE stamp visible on the wall behind him.
Alive.
But broken.
My breath left my body.
"That's two weeks old," he said calmly. "He's in a Dubai central facility," he said smoothly. "Charged with attempted murder... and international smuggling."
"That's a lie!" I shouted, my voice cracking as a tear slipped down before I could stop it.
"Of course it is," he replied casually. "But lies are powerful when you control the system."
My hands started trembling.
Not from fear.
From rage.
"You'll get visiting clearance," he continued calmly, sliding the phone back into his pocket, "once I secure the Gala with these designs."
I stared at him in disbelief.
"Are you fucking out of your mind?" I snapped. "You want me to wait three more days? Again? Like I've been waiting for four years?"
His expression didn't shift.
"It's only three days."
"Only?" I laughed bitterly. "Its already been four fucking years. I can't wait anymore."
He stepped closer.
"You don't get to dictate timelines."
"And you don't get to play god with my brother's life!" I shot back.
He started pacing, dragging his fingers through his hair like I had personally ruined his blood pressure.
"You know what?" he snapped. "You've been the biggest bone stuck in my throat for years. And now that Samarth is gone... you should disappear too."
My spine went cold.
He pulled out his phone and dialed someone.
"Come inside," he ordered.
I didn't wait to see who was coming because I knew I was in deep shit. If I wanted to save Bhai, I had to save myself first.
The front door was dead.
So I turned and ran towards the back door.
"Dhwani!" he shouted behind me.
I didn't look back.
My hand collided with the decorative table near the hallway. A heavy brass vase sat there - ugly, expensive, unnecessary.
I grabbed it without thinking and spun before throwing it right on his forehead.
A dull thud echoed. He staggered back with a curse.
They didn't know Dhwani Ranawat is very good at one thing-Running.
If I could run away from my own family at fourteen, I could outrun a greedy old man and his guards.
I pushed the back door open and bolted outside. The hot Jaipur air hit my face while the few men followed me.
My breathing turned sharp and shallow, but I didn't slow down. Behind me, I could hear shouting.
Footsteps.
Someone yelled to block the gate.
I kicked off my sandals mid-run and sprinted barefoot toward the road.
Pain shot through my soles as they hit gravel.
After turning two more corners, my lungs felt like they were tearing open.
And then I saw a white car parked carelessly by the roadside, the door was opened. Engine on. Windows tinted.
I didn't think.
I ran straight toward it and slid inside, slamming it shut behind me.
"Please drive. Fast," I breathed taking long breadth. The engine roared.
The car shot forward so suddenly my body jerked ahead, my forehead nearly smashing into the dashboard.
"Seatbelt," came a dry and very familiar voice beside me.
I turned my head.
Ishaan? Really?
His jaw was tight, eyes fixed on the road, but there was something else there-calculated awareness.
"You could've warned me," I snapped, gripping the seatbelt, he didn't answered.
"How long were you there?" I asked, my breath still uneven.
"Long enough."
The mansion gates flashed in the rearview mirror. Two men had rushed out, looking around wildly.
Too late.
I exhaled and leaned back in the seat, heart still hammering.
"You were following me all the way from Mumbai to Rajasthan?" I asked.
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because sir expected this." My head snapped toward him.
He cares?
"He... what?"
"He knew Maheshwar wouldn't let you walk out peacefully."
"He sent you?"
"Yes."
I swallowed. "So this was planned?"
"Contingency," Ishaan corrected smoothly. "Sir has trust issues." He looked at me for a second, as if saying trust issues because of me, then continued, "he prepares for everything."
I let out a shaky laugh.
"He kicked me out."
"Well, you deserve that."
Well, he was right.
"He told me not to come in front of his eyes again."
"He told you to stay away from him," Ishaan said, glancing at me briefly. "That's different."
The car sped past traffic, merging onto the highway.
I stared out the window. "He's going to kill me," I muttered.
"Maheshwar?"
"Yes."
"Not before Gala," Ishaan said flatly.
I looked at him. "What do you mean?"
"He needs those designs. You're still useful."
"I am not, I gave him the designs," I said, staring straight ahead.
"You did not."
My head snapped toward him.
I didn't give Maheshwar Pratap Rathore the originals. I may act reckless, I may lie when cornered-but I'm not suicidal. I would never gamble five years of Yugant's blood and sleepless nights for a man who survives on deceit.
But how did Ishaan know?
"How do you know that?" I asked slowly.
A faint smirk touched his lips. I had never seen him like this-less assistant, more... Raizaada's Chamcha type.
"I know," he replied evenly. "That's enough. You don't need to know everything."
The smugness disappeared just as quickly. Back to the composed, mechanical version of him.
My fingers curled in my lap. So they had been watching.
"You think I'm that stupid?" I muttered.
He didn't look at me, but his voice came calm and sharp.
"If you were, you wouldn't be sitting in this car right now." It's my first time talking to him like this and I understood he loves riddles.
Silence stretched between us. I leaned back, my heart still unsettled.
I had betrayed Yugant. I hurt him. I lied. But I couldn't destroy him. He is innocent. He is just a pawn getting used to all this by me.
A bitter smile touched my lips. Story of my life.
"Where are we going now?" I asked. Everything outside the windshield was moving, but inside me there was only darkness.
"Where do you want to go?" he asked back.
I almost laughed. What kind of question was that? He knew I had nowhere left.
"I want to go to the UAE," I said, turning toward him. "I want to pull my brother out of that prison. Can you take me there?"
He exhaled slowly. "I can't. But I know someone who can."
Of course.
Yugant.
"He said if I ever came in front of him again, he would destroy me," I muttered.
Ishaan's lips curved faintly. "And you don't know how beautiful that destruction would look, do you?"
I frowned. "How can destruction look beautiful? If it destroys, it destroys."
He shifted gears, eyes fixed on the road.
"Only enemies destroy to end," he said quietly. "Some people destroy to rebuild. Fire doesn't burn what it wants to keep. It only burns what it refuses to lose."
I couldn't understand a single word.
He continued, voice steady. "The hand that truly intends to erase you doesn't warn you first. And it certainly doesn't make sure you survive the fall."
Silence filled the car.
I looked away, but his words settled somewhere deep inside my chest.
Maybe destruction wasn't always about ruin. Maybe sometimes-it was about claiming.
"You mean... I should go back to Yugant again?" I asked, my voice almost swallowed by the engine's hum.
"Do you have any other way?" Ishaan replied without looking at me.
Of course I didn't.
"But going back to him means entangling myself in the Raizaadas' life again," I said bitterly. "They still think my brother killed their family."
"Yugant doesn't," Ishaan corrected calmly.
I turned to him sharply. "He doesn't?"
"No," he said. "He was forced to believe it. There's a difference."
My heart skipped.
"It was the confession video," Ishaan continued. "The accident reports. The timing. Your brother disappears right after. Every piece of evidence was pointing at Samarth. Anyone in his place would have been cornered into believing it."
I swallowed.
"But his heart never accepted it," Ishaan added. "Not fully. That's why the case was reopened. Twice. And now a third time. Quietly."
I stared at him.
"And that's why I was there today," he said. "Not to babysit you. To keep an eye on Maheshwar Pratap Rathore. To see who he's meeting. What he's hiding. We've already found inconsistencies in the old case files."
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