Chapter 36: Chapter 34- Cruel Truth

Author's pov-

The evening at the Sehgal mansion was unusually calm, yet the undercurrent of tension was unmistakable. The younger clan, as always, was engaged in their playful banter, their laughter echoing through the room. The elders were glued to the news, occasionally muttering opinions about the state of the world. Mahir stood in a corner, phone pressed to his ear, his deep voice low and commanding. Siara sat on the couch, seemingly indifferent, her fingers gliding across her phone as she scrolled through emails.

Suddenly, the news broadcast shifted the entire atmosphere.

The reporter's voice was sharp, almost shaking with the weight of the incident, Breaking news flashed in bold red.

“Breaking news: A chilling development has come to light. Four prominent individuals—Rohan Khurana, Shaurya Agnihotri, and Dev Mathur—all influential and connected by business and friendship, have mysteriously disappeared overnight.”

A collective silence fell over the room as every head turned toward the screen.

The reporter continued, her tone sharper now, “This morning, some mysterious boxes were delivered to Dev mathur and Shaurya Agnihotri’ s residences. Inside each box was something horrifying—a severed hand from each of these men. Alongside it was a note, chilling in its simplicity,‘Destruction has begun' However, no such box was delivered to Rohan khurana's family’”

The younger clan froze, their banter forgotten as a heavy tension replaced their earlier mirth. Mahir straightened, his phone call abruptly ended. Siara’s eyes, previously cold and indifferent, flickered with something darker—a faint shadow of knowing.

“This calculated assault didn’t stop there,” the reporter added. “Authorities discovered several illegal warehouses linked to these men, all simultaneously raided and exposed to law enforcement just hours ago. These warehouses, hidden from public knowledge, held evidence of tax evasion, human trafficking, and money laundering. This is no random attack—this is an orchestrated dismantling of their empires"

The screen flashed images of distraught family members and the sealed warehouses. Gasps escaped from the younger clan as unease spread through the room. The elders exchanged wary glances, the gravity of the revelation sinking in.

The reporter’s voice dropped an octave, her words laced with intrigue. “Our Sources confirmed that there are no clues to the perpetrators of this chilling revenge. Every possible trace has been erased—no witnesses, no camera footage, no evidence. The precision of this operation suggests someone with not only significant resources but also a deeply personal vendetta has done this.”

The room was heavy with silence, the family trying to process the reporter’s final, ominous question.

“Why haven’t their families taken any action yet? Could they already know the reason for this inhumane act? Or is there a darker, more sinister truth behind this calculated revenge? Whatever the case, one thing is clear—this is definitely the start of their destruction.”

The broadcast continued with more such speculations, leaving the room in a suffocating silence. Siara’s expression remained unreadable, her grip on the phone tightened imperceptibly.

Mahir’s expression remained unchanged as he leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his sharp features reflecting an almost frightening calm. His mind was calculating, cold, and focused. This was no amateur’s work—it was a message, delivered with precision and purpose.

Siara’s gaze lifted to Mahir, who had a smirk on his face. His expression was unreadable, but his dark eyes gleamed with something dangerously resolute.

Without saying a word, Siara rose, her phone still in hand, and headed upstairs. Mahir, noticing her departure, followed a few moments later, leaving the family to their swirling thoughts and mounting tension.

When he entered, she stood by the window, her back to him. Without turning, she said in her usual cold, detached voice, "Your knuckles are bruised."

Mahir glanced down at his hands, the dried blood on his knuckles a silent testament to the violence he’d unleashed. A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, though his eyes held something far darker—a reflection of the fury seething beneath the surface.

"They had a big mouth" he replied casually, as though discussing the weather. "Your father did that though"

Siara’s eyes flickered for a moment, but her expression didn’t change. She knew exactly what he meant.

Mahir’s voice was low, laced with menace,"This is just the beginning. Their companies will crumble piece by piece until nothing remains. They won’t be dead anytime soon. They'll beg for death, but they won’t get it. Not until you want to"

He took a step closer, his tone softer yet no less chilling. "Wanna pay them a visit?"

Her mind recalled those eyes, those memories. Her eyes stayed distant, as if locked in a battle with herself, the memories swirling like a storm. Her hands clenched at her sides, as if physically holding herself together. She wasn’t afraid of them—not anymore—but she wasn’t ready to face the other two who were the cause of her misery. Not yet. Siara turned around, her answer simple and firm,"No."

Mahir nodded, his eyes locking with hers, a silent understanding passing between them. "Whenever you’re ready," he said. "I’ll make sure they're still screaming when you decide to see them."

Today was the day Siara had waited for—the day her tormentors felt the agony she had endured in silence for so long. For the first time in years, she felt a glimmer of something that resembled satisfaction, a validation that her existence wasn’t entirely in vain. Today she felt, living was not a curse.

The satisfaction was fleeting, like a faint flicker of light in a vast, unending darkness. Yes, they are paying for every tear she had shed, for every muffled scream and every stolen moment of her innocence. But what was the meaning of it all, when the girl she once was had turned into someone who is just existing?

Her soul, once vibrant and full of life, had been reduced to ashes. The Siara who had danced in the rain, who had dreamed of love, who had laughed without restraint—that Siara no longer existed. All that remained was a shadow, a ghost of a woman who had learned to wear armor so heavy it had become her skin.

Her heart was a void, her soul shattered from carrying the weight of her pain for so long. What did justice mean when it couldn’t breathe life into the hollow shell she had become? The fire inside her had burned too bright, too fiercely, leaving nothing but charred remnants of the person she used to be.

Justice is being served, but at what cost? Her life was no longer hers—it belonged to the memories of a girl who had died long ago, leaving behind a woman who could no longer feel anything at all.

The punishment they were getting—was it enough? Was it enough for the sins they committed? No matter how much pain they endured, no matter if every bone in their body was shattered and every organ detached one by one, could it undo the horror they unleashed? Could it restore what they stole. Her dignity? Her laughter? Her sense of safety?

The damage was done, but Could the punishment truly balance the scales of justice?

what if she hadn’t been from an influential family? What if her last name didn’t carry weight, her father didn’t command power, and her husband wasn’t a force of nature? Would it have been possible to cut off their hands? To break them for every horror she endured? To make their families feel helpless? To destroy their lives?

It’s a cruel truth, power changes everything. It determines who gets to fight back, who gets to seek justice, and who is silenced. If she hadn’t been Siara Malhotra Sehgal with  families capable of shaking mountains, her pain would have been buried. Her rapists would have thrived while she carried the weight of their crimes, and society would have moved on, as it always does.

The world isn't built to protect the powerless. For every Siara whose voice could demand retribution, there were thousands who were silenced—forgotten names written in the margins of police reports gathering dust. The culprit's families would have stayed silent if she had been just another nameless victim? Or would her cries have been drowned out by red tape and apathy?

How many years she would have to wait if she had trusted the government to deliver justice? Five years? Ten? Perhaps longer? The legal system, tangled in its own bureaucracy, would have turned her agony into a case number, her cries for justice into evidence to be debated over. Every hearing would have been a reminder of that night, every adjournment a slap in the face of her pain.

She would have been asked to "trust the system," the same system that often failed women like her. A system that treated survivors like liars, demanding proof of their pain as though their broken lives weren’t evidence enough. A system that took years to acknowledge the obvious and years more to act.

And even after all those years, after enduring the slow grind of the judicial process, what would have been the outcome? A death sentence for her rapists? Just a few minutes of pain for destroying her and causing her lifetime pain? Could their few minutes of suffering ever compensate for the lifetime of scars they left behind?

And when the verdict will finally come, society would have clapped itself on the back, proclaiming justice had been served. The same society that blames victims for the clothes they wore or the places they went after dark.

Siara’s case was an exception because her families had power, so her culprits were suffering now and her family was delivering it. But the bitter truth lingered in her mind, what if her father hadn’t been a man of influence? Would the government have shown mercy to a broken father who had taken the law into his own hands? Would they have ignored the man who shot his daughter’s rapists and severed their hands to avenge her stolen dignity.

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Later in the evening, The whole family was gathered around the garden and the moment Siara dropped the bombshell, the garden erupted like a chaotic carnival,"I'm leaving for Italy Tomorrow, there is an important surgery over there"

The silence that followed lasted a beat—just long enough for everyone to process what she’d said—before the garden exploded into chaos.

Shivay leapt up like he’d been electrocuted. “ITALY?! TOMORROW?! Are you kidding me, Bhabhi? I’ve got… like… ZERO time to pack!” He started pacing in frantic circles, waving his arms like a windmill on steroids. “I don’t even know where my charger is! How am I supposed to survive?!”

Divya, ever the drama queen, gasped so loudly it sounded like she was auditioning for a horror movie. She clutched her chest with both hands, staggering back as though she’d been shot. “I DON’T HAVE NEW CLOTHES! My life is over! I cannot be seen in ITALY looking like… like… a recycled human! This is a disaster!” She flopped dramatically onto a chair, fake-sobbing into a pillow she’d grabbed out of nowhere.

Meanwhile, Kabir, mid-bite of a sandwich, froze. His eyes darted to his half-eaten snack, then to Siara, and then back to the sandwich, as if trying to solve a complex mathematical equation. “Wait… WAIT!” he shouted, standing up so fast the chair toppled over. “What about snacks?! You know I can’t survive without food, right? Are we bringing snacks? Is there Indian food in ITALY!”

Siara, standing calmly amidst the chaos, blinked at them like they were some strange species she’d accidentally unleashed. Her tone was as monotone as ever when she said, “Did your ears get damaged? I said I’m leaving, not us.”

Shivay wagged a finger at her like a scolding teacher. “You must be joking. Clearly, you’ve forgotten one of the fundamental laws of family which says that Kids go along with their parents!”

Kavya clapped her hands together, looking delighted. “Oh, PERFECT timing! I’ve got a few days off from work. This is fate. Count me in! It's a  vacation right?”

Mahi, already lounging in a garden chair, stretched her arms with a grin. “Yeah, same here. I’ve been overworked. I need a vacation anyway. Italy sounds good.”

Devansh, always the enthusiastic one, raised his hand like he was answering a classroom question. “Me too! I’ve never been to Italy! Let’s do this!”

Abhimanyu and Advitya, exchanging smug looks, turned to Mahir like they had just solved the mystery of the century. “Mahir, you’re going with them. Don’t worry, we’ll handle everything here.”

Finally, Dadi, who had been watching this entire circus unfold with a mix of amusement and resignation, raised her hand and declared, “Alright, alright. All of you can go. But remember, no chaos!”

Siara stared at the Younger clan, as if they all have escaped from a zoo while still trying to process how it became a vacation.

Shivay snapped his fingers at siara as if he’d just solved world hunger. “I'll definitely go on a Non-Icy hangout  with you Ice-queen, I bet on Kabir's sense of humour”

Mahir responded to him,"so you know, the chances are thin"

Divya, now miraculously recovered, jumped to her feet. “I NEED TO PACK! This is going to be iconic. Shivay, grab my suitcases! Kabir bhai, find out where the snacks are!”

And just like that, the younger clan dashed inside, calling dibs on luggage, arguing over who would pack what, and planning a snack attack like it was a military operation.

Siara stood there, her mind trying to catch up with the chaos around her. She muttered under her breath, “When… did I agree to this?"

Of course, her answer came in the form of Shivay yelling about needing more phone chargers, while the rest of the clan bickered over what snacks to bring. The universe had spoken, and it was loud.

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The younger clan was gathered in a frenzy, planning their so-called mission to Italy with the kind of precision usually reserved for heists.

Maps were strewn across the table, snacks were being debated with the seriousness of a peace treaty, and the whole room hummed with excitement. Siara sat quietly in the corner, observing the chaos, her brain still trying to process the fact that the family was tagging along on a medical trip.

Mahir whispered to siara while staring blankly at them,"Are they planning a terror attack?"

Siara just looked at them as if trying dissecting them,“Italy doesn’t know what’s about to hit it.”

And then, like a bombshell, someone dropped the line,"Avi will reach there directly."

Siara, who had been zoning out, snapped her head up. "Repeat" Her voice was sharp, but her expression remained unreadable.

"Avi... he’s coming directly there, his exams have finished." Kabir repeated, as if it was the most casual thing in the world.

That caught Siara's attention completely. "How did you get his number?" She asked, her eyebrow arched, suspicion creeping into her voice.

The room went silent for a moment, as everyone exchanged guilty glances. Then, the blame game began in earnest.

"I swear, I didn’t ask for it!" Divya defended herself, pointing a finger at Shivay. "Shivay’s the one who sent him the invite!"

Shivay immediately shot back, "Excuse me, Why are you blaming me? Mahi bhabhi was the one who actually—"

Mahi cut him off, holding her hands up in mock surrender. "Oh, no, no, no! Don't drag me into this! It was Myra who sent me his number"

"Don’t you dare bring me into this! It was kabir bhai who gave me the number" Myra immediately retorted,

All eyes swiveled to Kabir, who was trying—and failing miserably—to blend into the sofa.

"I—um—what are the chances you’ll believe me if I say I guessed it?" he mumbled, scratching the back of his head sheepishly.

Siara, still sitting on the couch, couldn’t help but let the absurdity of it all sink in. She closed her eyes for a moment, rubbing her temples. "Enough," she said, her voice as monotone as ever. "I’m not removing anyone from their job for this mess. Now... name him."

Without missing a beat, the entire younger clan, in perfect synchrony, chorused, "Sid."

Siara didn't say anything just dialled his number, her voice, sharp and no-nonsense, cut through the air like a knife,"You're working on night shift tonight"

A long, uncomfortable silence followed. Kabir, who had been lying on the sofa, muttered under his breath, “If she can make us mop the floor, then this is a no big deal for her.”

.........