Chapter - Poetic justice or Sinister plot ?

2 months ago

Mikky

@MidnightLibrary

Chapter - Poetic justice or Sinister plot ?

Malhotra mansion's vibrant walls now stood in stark contrast to the gloom that had settled within them . Ever since the news broke of Sanyogita's disappearance , the house had become a prison of silence, haunted by echoes of unwanted, horrifying dreams. It felt as if time had halted , merged with sorrow somewhere within the corridors.

Annaya and Shambhavi had both noticed how Prithvi returned home only to shut himself away. He locked himself locked in his bedroom and refused to let anyone enter . Even he had shouted at workers who dared to step inside or touch anything in the room. He didn’t come down for breakfast or dinner. Instead, he sat for hours in front of Sanyogita’s photograph, his eyes locked onto it, unblinking—waiting. Waiting for her to step out of the frame, call him in her sweet voice, wrap her arms around him, cook his favorite dishes, and feed him with her own hands..

Annaya couldn't forget how difficult it had been to convince Prithvi to return to the Malhotra Mansion. His father and uncle had visited their new home and even asked for forgiveness, but it was Sanyogita who had only persuaded him to come back , telling him that their real home was where their family belonged.

After surviving the traumatic incident , when Anushka returned home , lifeless , She stopped speaking to anyone. At night, she would wake up screaming, terrified and shivering , waking up in between sleep . Everybody witnessed how much Sanyogita stood by her side taking care of her as Anushka was her own daughter, —comforting her, staying up with her, and protecting her with unwavering strength.

Everyone — Shambhavi, Abhiram, Ariyan, Ananya, Avinash, Anushka's father —saw how deeply Sanyogita cared. Also they were wondering after hearing the bravery of Sanyogita who told them she had been learning self-defense from her bodyguard, Christopher. Prithvi was even amused discovering the other courageous side of her.

In a moment of raw vulnerability, Ariyan confessed a long-buried secret .During his school days , he had feelings for Sarika . But when he discovered she had special feelings for his elder brother, his heart shattered . One day, they argued on the school rooftop. In the heat of the moment, Sarika’s foot slipped—and she fell. Only his father, Avinash, knew the truth. Ariyan had been too terrified to speak of it for long-term. The guilt consumed him, especially seeing his brother sink into depression for three long months.

Everyone was stunned by the revelation . Prithvi , however, extended a comforting hand to his younger brother’s shoulder and forgave him as whatever happened was just a horrible accident. They were all together. Finally, that was most important.

Zunaid’s investigation later revealed the horrifying truth: Adhiraj had disguised himself as a driver and kidnapped Anushka after she left Sanyogita and Prithvi's new home to visit a friend. With help from an accomplice, he had drugged her and taken her to an abandoned warehouse.

As the days moved on , Abhiram , Prithvi's father, had been overjoyed since he heard that he was going to be a grandfather . He arranged for a special room for the upcoming baby — filled it with toys, had small beds installed, and even instructed the workers to turn the space into a miniature Disney palace.

The entire family had been glowing with happiness, looking forward to the new arrival.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Daksh’s parents, who lived in Delhi, were informed of his death over a phone call from the Mumbai police. Meanwhile, Daksh had been living alone in Mumbai due to his work.

The police had placed Ayesha, Satish, and Divya’s phones under surveillance, quietly monitoring their calls for anything incriminating—but so far, nothing suspicious had come out .

ACP Zunaid personally visited the Malhotra Mansion, hoping to uncover something unusual, a hint, a clue—but he returned empty-handed. Everything appeared normal on the surface.

Later, in a tense conversation, Zunaid questioned Prithvi, asking if Sanyogita had known about Daksh’s necrophobia or Gautam’s asthma. At the mention of his wife, Prithvi’s expression changed. His face hardened with offense, and his voice rose in anger.

"Are you accusing Sanyogita now?" he snapped. "She’s been through enough already. How could you think that she can be behind all these? “

Zunaid fell silent . He was meant to offend . He was only trying to connect the dots in a maze of half truths . He felt conflicted, torn between instinct and the lack of concrete evidence.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

In the evening , Zunaid visited the forensic lab again . Naina called out to her assistant to bring the postmortem report.

A young woman, around 5'6" to 5'7" in height, with a striking presence, entered the room. Zunaid's gaze lingered on her, and he recognized the person. It was Dr. Meera who he had met at Anushka's birthday party.

A warm smile spread over her face radiating her cheeks “ Officer Zunaid! I was hoping to catch up with you. Any updates on Sanyogita Bhabhi's case?” Meera's voice was laced with concern and anticipation

Zunaid's expression turned somber, his eyes locking onto hers. "Not yet, Dr. Meera. But we're working tirelessly to crack the case. We'll get there soon.”

Meera jaw dropped “ Who has kidnaped Bhabhi? And I'm thinking how could anyone think of doing this , such a beautiful soul she is always talking with maternal affection. Always ready to help others. Never think any evil for anyone “

Meera jaw dropped in disbelief “ Who could possibly be kidnapped , Bhabhi? I can't imagine how someone would choose to harm such a beautiful soul.

She's always been full of kindness, speaking to everyone with maternal affection, always eager to lend a helping hand, and never harboring any bad thoughts toward anyone."

Zunaid's expression turned somber, nodding his head in agreement with her words . “ Don't worry , Meera we will try our best to find her , and I believe we will get some leads within tonight “

“Hope so!” Meera replied.

Meanwhile Naina observed the duo exchanging conversions “ Do you two know each other?” she asked as the curiosity occupied her

Zunaid nodded his head “ Yes , we met at Mr. Prithvi Malhotra's younger sister's birthday party “

Naina stared at ACP Zunaid, processing the information.

“ Now pls tell Dr. Joshi about the report . We have very little time in our hands “Zunaid urged , bearing the gravity of the situation.

Dr. Naina Joshi gestured to Meera with her eyes, prompting her to continue.

Meera gave a subtle nod and flipped through the postmortem report. “ “The toxicology results showed the presence of drugs,” she said . “But nothing lethal. What’s striking is the intense fear he experienced—likely what triggered his heart failure. Other than that, there’s nothing suspicious in his body .”

Zunaid's expression grew serious and he said , “ “We spoke to some of Daksh’s friends. Apparently, he turned to drugs due to the peer pressure of his work. Clients refused to buy his paintings , which caused disappointment ,... and eventually , loneliness and financial strain took over.”

Naina's eyes widened . She remained silent for a moment, processing the information . Meera , beside her, looked thoughtful.

“Do you think it was a murder?” Meera asked, her voice laced with curiosity. “Like Gautam Desai’s case?”

Zunaid didn’t rule it out. “The possibility isn’t low. Anyway, I should get going. Thank you, Dr. Joshi, Dr. Meera, for your insights.”

Both women nodded politely.

After Zunaid left, Naina turned to Meera with quiet intensity. “How do you know , Sanyogita Malhotra, Meera?”

A flicker of a smile played on Meera’s lips as she responded—revealing, for the first time, her connection to Ariyan Malhotra who was Sanyogita’s brother-in-law.

Naina leaned forward, her curiosity piqued. “Tell me more about Sanyogita. What is she like?”

Meera’s eyes softened, a genuine smile touching her lips , “ She is an amazing lady , Ma'am. If you ever meet her then you'll only understand—her warmth, her kindness, her strength… even words would fall short to describe her.”

Naina studied Meera’s expression. “Do you know anything about her sister’s case?”

“ I don't know everything ,” Meera replied slowly, “but when I accompanied her to her hometown, Delhi, I could see how stressed she was . She’s pregnant, but that didn’t stop her. We visited the police station together to request the reopening of her sister’s case. That’s when we found out… the officer who originally filed the case—ASP Jatin Laal ,had passed away recently. Heart attack.”

“ What name have you mentioned about the officers?” Naina's eyes narrowed”

“ASP Jatin Laal,” Meera repeated without hesitation. “If he had been honest to his uniform, maybe Janvi Didi would still be alive. But he failed her. He wasn’t a good cop.”

Meera kept talking, but Naina stopped listening. Her ears rang. Her heart thudded in her chest.

A chill of shiver ran down through Naina’s body . Jatin Laal was ….her maternal uncle who had died three weeks ago. She had even attended the funeral.

Later , when Meera left, she called Zunaid who answered the call. Naina disclosed everything to Zunaid .At the end she asked him deeper “ The officer who handled Janvi’s case was ASP Jatin Laal… my uncle. That’s now three victims who died of sudden cardiac arrest—Daksh, Gautam Desai… and Jatin Laal.”

She paused..” So , who is the killer?"

Zunaid sounded equally serious. “I spoke to Mr. Prithvi Malhotra about ASP Jatin Laal’s death. I had similar suspicions. But Dr. Meera and Mrs. Sanyogita Malhotra were both in their hotel with their lawyer at the time. The hotel manager confirmed it. Sanyogita couldn’t have done it.”

Naina frowned. “Yusuf… how much does Mr. Prithvi Malhotra love his wife?”

Zunaid was perplexed by her sudden asking, nevertheless he responded , he let out a sigh

“ More than words can explain

“ Even words will fall short . I have seen how he saved her life even though he got hit by a busy bullet to save her . And Anushka, his sister, mentioned to me that Prithvi had fought against so many people who were spreading rumours against their relationship before their marriage. Only Prithvi Malhotra took stands for his wife as both have stark contrast in their economic status .

Their backgrounds were completely different, but he never let that matter. Eight years ago, they met for the first time. There were misunderstandings... They were separated for a while. But somehow, fate brought them back together.”

Naina fell silent, pieces slowly clicking into place.

Naina had no interest in hearing someone's love story .But one thing was clear to her , But one thing became crystal clear—Prithviraj Malhotra was a man who could go to any lengths for his wife's happiness.

“Yusuf,” she said, her tone measured but sharp, “don’t you think it’s possible that Prithviraj Malhotra knows exactly what’s going on? Just think about it—he belongs to an elite, high-profile circle, yet he agreed to reopen the rape case of his wife’s sister. He knew how explosive it would be—how the media and public would pounce on it. In cases like this, even families abandon their daughters. Men hesitate to marry into such families. But Prithviraj? He didn’t just marry Sanyogita—he stood by her, fought for her. If he wanted to, he could have destroyed those four men without leaving a trace.”

Zunaid felt silent , his thoughts tangled . There was a conflict between what his heart wanted to believe and what his experience as a police officer told him.

Naina continued, her voice colder now. “And there's something else that's been bothering me —Is Sanyogita even alive ?

Zunaid’s breath caught.

Naina's voice was firm “Why would she call Mr. Malhotra’s personal assistant and say her husband’s life was in danger?

“What if,” Naina said slowly, “Prithviraj Malhotra is already one step ahead of us? What if he’s the one delivering justice—his own version of it—while we chase shadows?”

A cold wind seemed to brush over Zunaid's body, striking his skin like a jolt of electricity. He shivered—not from the cold, but from the creeping possibility that Naina might be right.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

She closed her eyes . A single tear glistened like a pearl under the dim light .

memory reached into every corner of her mind .Those days haunted her like a garnaled of a monstrous tree . She could still see the glimpse of the lifeless body of her daughter wrapped in a white sheet.

They said it was suicide. But a mother’s heart knew better.. It was murder.

Those four monsters snatched her child . They didn't let her innocent daughter's life survive , tore her entire world apart . Only because of those filthy perverts , her innocent daughter …innocent, full of dreams died at just the age of nineteen .

And on the very same night, her husband died too. As if the universe had decided to take everything from her in one cruel sweep.

No one had believed her. No one saw the war she was fighting behind her quiet eyes. The world mocked her, whispered behind her back. The police, the law, the so-called protectors of justice—all of them bowed before money, smothering the truth under piles of silence and shame.

And yet, she remembered everything.

While those devils moved on —graduated,

completed their studies without any problems . Known as a respected person in society —she watched from the shadows ,and kept all the news. She knew who got promoted, who bought a new home, who posted smiling photos with their newborns. She tracked every step, every milestone, every celebration.

Seeing their happy life, her heart burning with anger, revenge. That anger had no sound. It had no scream. It was cold and slow-burning, like acid eating away at a soul. The fire in her heart had long since turned to something darker—something resolute

They had lived freely.

But today… they were paying the price

A bitter smile curved her lips. For the first time in years, she felt something like peace. Justice had begun—one by one, the guilty were falling. The law had failed her, but fate would not. This time, no amount of money could save them. No shield of reputation, no power of influence can save them.

They would suffer as her daughter had suffered.

And in their final moments, they would know true fear—deeper, more merciless than death.

They had to die. And they would.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Nishant locked himself in his room , the moment he heard about Daksh’s murder. Since then, got the news about Daskh murder, he hadn’t been able to rest—not even for a moment. One day had passed, and yet another friend was dead.

When the news of Gautam’s death broke, fear took root. He had tried to brush it off at first, convincing himself it was a coincidence. But Daksh’s death - , sudden, inexplicable—shatters that illusion.

If it was an insane deed of a serial killer, definitely anyone can be next . He was certain that Sanyogita was behind this. She had already challenged him; that no one would be able to save him when the time came.

Jaatin Laal was the first to fall. Then Gautam. Then Daksh.

Now only he and Reyansh remained.

Who would be next?

Once, he had pretended to be fearless—projecting the image of a man who ruled the world. Nishant Ranawat, untouchable and arrogant, a man who feared no one.

But now?

Now his mind was a swirling storm of grotesque fear. Every shadow looked like a threat. Every face turned his stomach. He trusted no one—not even his own men.

Anyone could be in disguise. Anyone could be using prosthetic makeup. They could already be inside, watching him, waiting.

A sudden knock echoed at the door.

His instincts screamed: Don’t open it. Don’t let anyone in. Trust no one.

They could be anyone. They could be anywhere.

What if they were hiding just outside the room? What if they were already inside, behind a curtain, in the shadows, under the bed?

He couldn’t eat—what if someone had poisoned the food?

He couldn’t breathe easily—what if the air itself had been laced with something?

The paranoia was suffocating.

Sweat poured down his forehead as panic closed in on him like a tightening noose.

“They’re coming for me.”

The adrenaline surging through his veins as he anxiously scanned his surroundings. Where was the so-called daredevil he had heard so much about his nature ?

He knew what he needed to do to survive amid the dead threat surrounding him . With resolute determination, he hurriedly freed all the workers from his house , ushering them towards safety. Once they were out, he closed the heavy main gate behind them, feeling an overwhelming sense of urgency. Every balcony window was sealed. Every curtain drawn. He had to ensure no one—no one—could get in.

He had to leave India unless …He couldn’t die. Not like this. …or else …the thought of death crawled him into a nightmare. The weight of the situation bore down on him: staying could mean death in the hands of the killer or if he confessed the truth the police arrested him for investigation purposes, he had to rot for the rest of his life behind the prison. Each option seemed like a trap.

Taking a deep breath, he made his way toward the dimly lit basement room, he gripped the stair rail like a lifeline . Once inside, he slammed the door shut behind him, enveloped by thick, suffocating darkness.

The oppressive silence was broken only by the sound of his own heartbeat, which seemed to amplify in the silence.

Suddenly he felt suffocating as the fresh smell clogged his nostrils, making it harder for him to breathe.

Then came the whispers. Not real—he knew that—but they crawled into his ears nonetheless.

Gautam. Daksh. Jaatin

He started rocking back and forth, grappling with the chaos of his thoughts, searching for a way to escape the nightmare engulfing him.

He thought laughter grew higher, suddenly those amorphous figures moving closer to him , merging with his existence .

He covered his ears with his hands and squeezed his eyes shut desperate to block the maniacal laughter that threatened to overwhelm him.

He clutched his head, pressing his palms hard against his ears. “Stop it. Stop it!”

He shut his eyes tightly, rocked back and forth, trying to erase their phantom laughter. But it grew louder. The shadows around him thickened, twisted, as if the dead themselves had returned for retribution.

He couldn’t take it anymore. And then—footsteps.

Heavy. Slow. Drawing closer.