~⊹₊AUTHOR POV⊹₊~

(📍 RATHORE'S MANSION1980 )

The black car came to a halt in front of a massive estate--once a place he had called home.

Now? Just another reminder of everything he hated.

Thirty minutes ago, he had killed a man who betrayed him. And now, he was standing at his father's doorstep-the only traitor still breathing.

The towering mansion stood as a symbol of his father's power.

DHANANJAY SINGH RATHORE.

Vedant stepped out, adjusting his cufflinks.

The staff greeted him, but he ignored them, walking straight toward the door. His footsteps echoed through the hallways.

Inside, a framed photograph of his mother stood on display, surrounded by fresh flowers---another performance.

And just like every year...His gaze darkened when he saw Dhananjay Singh Rathore kneeling before it, placing flowers with an expression that almost... looked sorrowful.

Vedant scoffed. What a joke.

As if this man ever cared.

A man like him only mourned when there was something to gain.

The elections were near. This was just another staged act.

Vedant would never have come here if not for the blackmail.

His mother's property--the only thing she left behind lies with him.He could only claim it if he got married before turning 29. He still had one year. If he failed, the property would go to his father legally.

His jaw clenched. Like hell he'd let that happen.

Mr. Rathore stood, moving as if to embrace him, but Vedant took a step back. The message was clear.

His father's expression flickered. It was nothing new.

He had been disappointing this man for twenty-one years.

Vedant's eyes flickered to Maya, his stepmother. She stood quietly, a soft smile on her lips---one that flattered the moment their eyes met.

He clenched his fists and turned toward his mother's photograph.

He needed to get out of here asap.

His fingers brushed the frame.

She was the only one who had ever truly loved him.

She was the Most pure soul.

And yet, God had decided to punish her by throwing her into marriage with a monster at 17.

At 18, she had him.

At 24 she had Mayank.

And the very same day, she died.

Vedant's jaw tightened as the memories came crashing down

He had no intention of staying here, no intention of being part of this circus.

With one last glance at the photograph, he turned on his heels to leave-when a firm grip closed around his wrist.

"You're not going anywhere. We have guests." Dhananjay Singh Rathore said.

Vedant stilled as if his touch burned him.

Because it really did.

His head turned slowly, his gaze burning with rage.

His voice dropped to a dead whisper,"Let. Go."

His father left his hand immediately.

Vedant's lips curled into a smirk---one so cold it could freeze hell over,"And don't worry... you won't have guests today."

Right on cue, a commotion erupted outside.. as swarm of reporters rushed toward the mansion's gates, flashing cameras in his father's face.

Dhananjay's face twisted in confusion---then his eyes widened in realization.

Vedant had made sure there was a scandal.

One that would shatter DHANANJAY SINGH RATHORES carefully built reputation like glass beneath his boot.

Reporters screamed questions-

"Mr. Rathore, is it true that your campaign is funded by illegal sources-?"

"Is it true that your son, refuses to support your political ambitions?"

He put his glasses back on, smirking as he turned to leave.

Then, from the corner of his eye, he noticed someone behind the pillar.

Shrya Singh Rathore.

Maya and Dhananjay Singh Rathore's daughter. Barely 18.

She had always found ways to talk to him whenever he visited years ago. But it had been four years since he last saw her.

She had... grown up.

And just like that, the past came rushing back.

Vedant - 13.

Shrya - 4.

Six years after his mother's passing, he had returned to India. His father had sent him to England for his own good.

The day he came back, as soon as he stepped into the house, a little girl with jet-black hair and a pink frock came running toward him.

"Bhaiyaaa!"

The word had barely left her lips when he had shoved her back-hard.

She had hit the ground, scraping her knees against the harsh concrete. She had cried for two hours. Maybe more. But he hadn't cared.

He had hated everything about that moment.

The fact that his father had married a much younger woman.

The fact that he had a child with her.

The fact that he was expected to accept it.

He remembered the way he had looked at Shrya that day-with nothing but hate.

And she had run.

Just like everyone else.

But the next day that evening, everything had changed.

Still, some wounds never heal.

They don't hurt anymore,

but they never let you forget.

Vedant blinked.

The past was over.

He ignored Shrya and stepped past her.

Outside, reporters swarmed, shouting questions, cameras flashing. This scandal had already set fire to his father's reputation.

Perfect.

.

.

Vedant didn't go back to the penthouse. Instead, he drove to the one place that still felt like home--his uncle house.

Unlike his father, Vikram Chaddha cared. Maybe not completely, but enough. Enough to look after ..him.

Enough to fight for Mayank's Custody from DHANANJAY SINGH RATHORE.

And Arunika Vikram Chaddha? She was more of a mother than anyone else had ever been.

Their daughters, Neha and Rhea, college going student and were little sisters to him in every way that mattered.

They had taken care of Mayank and him when no one else had.

And he would kill to keep them happy.

Stepping into the house, the scent of sandalwood and incense filled his nostrils . The same puja, the same prayers---for the same woman

But this time, it wasn't for show.

This was real.

As he entered the house he saw vIkram chadda.. surrounded by his advisors.

Vikram eyes flickered before he dismissed his men and walked towards him

He didn't hate Vikram. Not after everything he had done for Mayank. And for... him.

But the past?

The past was something he could never forget.

Mr. Chaddha patted his shoulder, his voice heavy yet proud. "Welcome home, Vedant."

Vedant simply nodded as he saw Mrs. Chaddha caming down of stairs with a genuine smile on her face

Bending down, he touched Mrs. Chaddha feet-a respect he gave to no one else, only her.

Neha and Rhea ran to him the moment he straightened up, pulling him into a tight hug.

"Bhaiyaa! We missed you so much!"

He let them hug him for a moment before patting their heads.

Just then, Mayank walked up, grinning. "Brooo, how are you?"

Vedant patted his shoulder.

How was he supposed to answer that?

How could he be fine?

Especially on this day.

Instead of replying he wished him "Happy birthday, Mayank."

Mayank's smile faded as his hands clenched slightly.

This day was never celebrated.

How could it be, when his mother had died the day he was born?

Mayank didn't reply.

And Vedant didn't expect him to.

With a nod, Vedant signaled his men to place the gifts on the table-the ones brought for everyone. Except for one.

The one gift he kept in his pocket.

the one he never had courage to give.

Arunika clapped her hands, breaking the silence. "I'll go prepare dinner. Baccha party, come help me!"

The girls eagerly followed, their chatter filling the house again.

Vikram Chaddha glanced at Vedant. "I have an urgent meeting to attend."

Vedant simply nodded. They were never the type to say t

hings outright.

As everyone disappeared, Vedant's feet led him toward the framed photograph.

His mother.

His fingers brushed the edge.

His throat tightened.

"Miss you, Mom..." he murmured.

And after dinned, he left for the penthouse.