Chapter 12

InkedImagination

@Queen0fDarkness

Chapter 12 - The final blow

While the Khuranas battled the growing storm in their business, Geet was working on the next phase of her plan. The accident that had claimed Meera’s life had been buried by the Khuranas’ influence, but Geet knew that no cover-up was perfect. There were witnesses, fragments of evidence, and memories that could still surface if pushed in the right direction.

Geet had spent weeks researching the case, compiling a dossier of inconsistencies and potential leads. Using her hacker skills, she accessed police records, noting missing witness statements and discrepancies in the original investigation. Her plan was to plant these details with a trusted journalist, ensuring the story gained enough traction to force the authorities to reopen the case.

Geet reached out to Naina Kapoor, an investigative journalist known for her relentless pursuit of justice. She used another anonymous email account to send Naina a comprehensive file, detailing the mishandling of Meera’s case and pointing to the Khurana family’s influence in suppressing the truth.

Naina responded within hours, her interest piqued. “This is explosive” she wrote. “If what you’re saying is true, this could be the story of the year. Can we talk in person?”

Geet declined, insisting on remaining anonymous. She passed on contact information for potential witnesses, including the café owner where Meera had worked, and even an employee who had helped clean up the scene that night.

Meanwhile, Geet planted subtle evidence in the Khurana estate—scraps of torn paper in Raj’s study resembling old accident reports and a set of fake handwritten notes referencing bribes to the police. She knew these would be discovered in the event of a raid, further implicating the family.

Within a week, Naina’s exposé was published. The headline was chilling:

"Buried Justice: The Untold Story of Meera Handa's Death and the Khurana Cover-Up"

The article detailed the inconsistencies in the police investigation, missing witness testimonies, and the mysterious cleanup of the accident site. It raised questions about the Khuranas’ involvement and the extent of their influence over law enforcement. Public outcry was immediate, with calls for the case to be reopened.

The pressure on the police was overwhelming. Within days, they announced the reopening of Meera Handa’s case. The Khuranas, already reeling from their business troubles, now faced a full-blown criminal investigation.

Raj and Veena’s arguments escalated as the stress mounted. “This is your fault!” Veena screamed one evening, her voice echoing through the mansion. “If you hadn’t been so reckless covering everything up, none of this would be happening!”

“My fault?” Raj bellowed, his face red with fury. “You’re the one who insisted we cover it up! Now look where we are!”

Maan tried to intervene, his voice desperate. “Maa, Dad, please! Fighting isn’t going to solve anything!”

But his pleas fell on deaf ears. The once-powerful couple who had ruled their world with authority and precision were now at each other’s throats, their unity shattered.

Geet watched from the shadows as their world unfolded. She felt no joy in the destruction she had wrought - only a cold, grim satisfaction. This was justice, she told herself. The Khuranas were finally paying for their sins.

As the days passed, the mansion grew quieter, the once-bustling household now a tense, fractured shell of its former self. Geet knew the end was near, but there was still one final piece of her plan to execute—Maan’s reckoning.

For now, though, she allowed herself a small moment of triumph. The Khuranas were falling, and it was only the beginning.

The Khurana mansion that was once a symbol of power and prestige, now felt hollow and cold. The air inside was heavy with tension, the cracks in the family’s foundation painfully evident. Raj and Veena hadn’t spoken a civil word to each other in days, their arguments escalating into threats of divorce. Maan had tried everything - mediating, pleading, even raising his voice in desperation—but nothing worked.

That evening, Maan sat in the living room, his head in his hands. He felt like a failure. His family, his company, his reputation—everything he had worked to preserve was slipping through his fingers. He was exhausted, lost and completely defeated.

When Geet entered the room, she found him staring blankly at the floor. His usually confident demeanour was gone, replaced by a man burdened by the weight of his collapsing world. “Geet” he said quietly when he noticed her. “I don’t know what to do. My family is falling apart. My parents are talking about divorce. The company is in ruins. Everything… everything is destroyed”.

Geet walked over, her mask in place as she sat beside him. For a moment, she said nothing, letting the silence stretch. Then, in a calm, measured voice, she said, “Finally, you have a taste of what that feels like”.

Maan blinked, turning to her in confusion. “What do you mean?” he asked looking at her exhausted.

“Do you remember the story you told me? About the girl you accidentally killed and the truth your parents buried? You know, Meera?”

His breath hitched, and he nodded slowly. “Yes… why are you bringing that up now?”

Geet leaned forward, her voice steady but icy. “Her full name was Meera Handa. And my name is Geet Handa. I’m her sister”.

The words hit Maan like a physical blow. His eyes widened in shock, his mouth opening and closing as he struggled to process what she had just said. “W-what?” he stammered shaking his head in disbelief.

“You heard me” Geet stated, her voice steady and calm. “Meera Handa. My sister. The girl whose life you took. The girl whose dreams you ended in a moment of recklessness”.

Maan recoiled as if she had struck him. “No… that can’t be… Geet, this has to be some kind of mistake”.

“It’s no mistake” she snapped, her voice rising slightly. “For years, I’ve lived with the pain of losing my sister. For years, I’ve watched my parents break under the weight of their grief. And do you know what made it worse? Knowing that the people responsible—the so called, almighty Khurana family—walked away unscathed. No justice. No accountability. Nothing” she scoffed bitterly.

Maan’s heart pounded in his chest as her words sank in. “Geet… I—”

“Don’t” she interrupted sharply, her eyes flashing with anger. “Don’t you dare try to apologise. Do you even know what that night did to us? My sister was my parents’ pride, their hope for the future. She was working so hard to build a life for herself and us. And then you—” her voice broke slightly before she regained her composure. “You stole her from us. And your family’s cover-up destroyed any chance we had at finding peace and justice!”

Maan stared at her, his mind racing. The guilt he had carried for years now felt unbearable, magnified by the realisation that the woman he loved was the sister of the girl he had killed. “Geet… I didn’t know. I swear, I didn’t know”.

“Of course, you didn’t” she said bitterly. “Why would you? Your parents made sure the truth was buried, the evidence wiped clean. They paid off the police, silenced the witnesses, and threw money at us like it could replace my sister’s life”.

Maan’s face crumpled, tears streaming down his cheeks. “Geet, I… I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt anyone. I was a stupid, reckless kid. I’ve regretted it every single day”.

“But you didn’t pay for it, did you?” she countered coldly. “You got to move on. You built a life for yourself, pretending to be a good man, attending charity events in my sister’s name like it could absolve you. But what about my family, Maan? What about my parents, who were left with nothing but grief and hopelessness? What about me, who had to watch them fall apart?”

Maan couldn’t meet her gaze, his hands trembling. “Geet… what have you done?” he asked quietly, his voice filled with dread.

“I did what your family made impossible” she said, standing and looking down at him with a mixture of triumph and disdain. “I destroyed you. Just like you destroyed us”.

Maan’s heart sank as the weight of her words pressed down on him. His mind flashed back to the past few months—the business deals falling apart, the media scandal, the reopened investigation. “It was you” he whispered, realisation dawning. “You… you did all of it”.

“Yes” she said simply. “Every setback, every failure, every piece of your world crumbling—I orchestrated it all. Because you and your family needed to feel what it’s like to lose everything”.

Maan buried his face in his hands, his body shaking with sobs. “I didn’t know, Geet” he cried. “I didn’t know it was you. I didn’t know what else to do back then. My parents—”

“Your parents are just as guilty” Geet said sharply. “They cared more about their reputation than about doing what was right. And now, they’re paying for it. Just like you are”.

She turned to leave, pausing at the door to look back at him one last time. “My sister didn’t get justice. But at least now, you’ll know what it feels like to live with the weight of loss, the weight of guilt. Maybe now, you’ll finally understand what you took from us”.

Maan sat alone in the living room, the weight of Geet’s words pressing down on him like an unrelenting tide. His mind replayed everything—the moments they’d shared, the laughter, the love he thought they had. She had been his light, the one person who had managed to pull him out of the shadows of guilt and regret that had haunted him for years. And yet, she was the very storm that had brought his world crashing down.

He buried his face in his hands, his chest tight with heartbreak. Losing his family’s respect, his parents’ marriage, and even his company seemed inconsequential now. Losing Geet, the woman he truly loved, was the most devastating blow of all.

“I loved you” he whispered to the empty room, his voice breaking. “I loved you with everything I had”.

She had been his salvation—or so he thought. Her presence had been a balm to his wounded soul, her laughter a melody that quietened his guilt. She was fierce, intelligent, and compassionate, and he had fallen for her deeply, hopelessly. But now, he realised she was never what she seemed. She wasn’t the angel he believed her to be, but an avenger cloaked in light, her beauty and warmth concealing the fire of her rage.

And yet, despite everything, he couldn’t hate her.

He knew she had every right to hate him. He had taken her sister from her, however unintentional it had been. He had let his parents’ actions erase the truth, leaving her family to bear the unbearable weight of grief and injustice. Geet had sought justice in the only way she could—by dismantling his world piece by piece. And she had succeeded.

But what cut him the deepest was the question that burned in his heart, unanswered and unrelenting.

Did she feel anything for him?

As the sound of footsteps echoed in the hallway, Maan stood, his heart pounding. He turned just as Geet emerged, her face calm but her eyes betraying a storm of emotions. She was heading for the stairs, likely to pack her things and leave him forever.

“Geet” he called softly, his voice trembling.

She paused, her back to him, her posture rigid. “What is it, Maan?” she asked, her tone guarded.

He hesitated for a moment, his hands clenched at his sides. “Did you… did you ever feel anything for me? Or was it all just an act?”

Her shoulders tensed at his words, and for a long moment, she didn’t turn around. The silence stretched between them, heavy and suffocating. Finally, she exhaled, her head tilting slightly as if she were considering his question.

“I…” she began but stopped herself. Her throat felt tight, her chest aching with a conflict she didn’t want to acknowledge.

Geet had told herself from the start that this was just a mission, a means to an end. Maan was supposed to be a pawn, a tool in her plan to bring the Khuranas to their knees. But as the months passed, as she saw his vulnerability, his attempts at redemption, and the way he looked at her with nothing but love… something within her had shifted.

She had tried to ignore it, bury it under the weight of her anger and grief. But now, standing there with his question hanging in the air, she couldn’t deny it entirely.

Geet turned her head slightly, just enough for him to see the profile of her face. Her lips parted as if she were about to say something, but then she stopped. No. She couldn’t allow herself to admit it—not to him, not even to herself.

Without another word, she walked away, her footsteps echoing through the silent mansion.

Geet entered their bedroom, the room that had been hers for only a short time but now felt suffocating. She pulled out a suitcase and began packing her belongings, her movements mechanical. Her heart was heavy, weighed down by emotions she didn’t want to confront.

As she folded her clothes and placed them neatly into the suitcase, her eyes caught on the small details scattered around the room. A framed photo of them together from their wedding day, his tie draped carelessly over the back of a chair, a book he had recommended to her sitting on the nightstand. Each item carried a memory, a moment of fleeting happiness she hadn’t expected but had somehow found with him.

She sat on the edge of the bed, clutching the photo frame in her hands. The image blurred as tears welled in her eyes. She had achieved what she set out to do—she had avenged her sister, shattered the Khurana family, and brought their empire to its knees. But the satisfaction she had anticipated felt hollow, tainted by the pain of what she was leaving behind.

Geet wiped away a tear as it slipped down her cheek. “You weren’t supposed to mean anything to me” she whispered to herself. “This wasn’t supposed to hurt”.

But it did.

Maan had been genuine in his love for her, and somewhere along the way, despite herself, she had felt something for him too. She had seen his guilt, his efforts to atone, and his brokenness. She had seen the man beneath the Khurana name, and it had shaken her resolve in ways she hadn’t expected.

Geet snapped the photo frame shut and placed it gently back on the nightstand. She zipped up her suitcase and stood, her hand resting on the handle as she took one last look around the room. The memories they had created, however brief, would stay with her. But this chapter of her life was over.

As she walked out of the room, her tears fell freely, unnoticed by anyone but herself. She had fought for justice, and she had won. But as she descended the grand staircase for the last time, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she had also lost something precious.

Her heart.