♠KISSED BY A CRIMINAL ♠

Chapter 17

The buried truth wakes up

Isha's POV

The soft glow of the evening lamp threw long, gentle shadows across my bedroom walls. I sat cross legged on my bed, staring at the small, neat stack of clothes resting on my lap.

His grey hoodie.... And baggy sweatpants.

I smoothed my palms over the heavy cotton fabric, the faint, intoxicating scent of sandalwood and wet rain immediately drifting into my senses. My heart gave a stupid, familiar little flutter. I picked up the hoodie and folded it with deliberate, uncharacteristic neatness, aligning the seams perfectly before walking over to my wardrobe. I tucked them away into the farthest, most private corner of my shelf, hiding them away like a precious secret.

Standing there, leaning my head against the wooden wardrobe door, a soft smile tugged at my lips.

My mind spun backward, tracing the timeline of us. I thought about the first day I had marched into his dark, moody home through kitchen window, entirely annoyed by his cold, silent arrogance. I thought about how he always managed to see right through my corporate princess facade, how he challenged me, and how his large, scarred hands had slowly become the safest place in the world for me.

And then... the bathroom.

A violent, scorching blush rushed straight to my cheeks. I could still feel the freezing torrent of the shower, the translucent fabric of my kurti, and the terrifying, breathtaking intensity of his lips against mine. It hadn't just been a reckless moment of passion. It had been a shift. The realization hit me quietly in the silence of my room: I was slowly, entirely falling for Vedant Chauhan.

A soft, passing breeze rustled the curtains, and my gaze drifted to the framed photograph on my nightstand. My mother. She was laughing in the picture, her eyes crinkling with pure, unadulterated joy. A bittersweet ache bloomed in my chest. I remembered the way her hands used to feel when she would braid my hair on Sunday mornings, the quiet warmth of her laughter, and how she used to tell me that when love hits you, it doesn't ask for permission it just takes over.

"I think it happened, Mom," I whispered to the empty room, a soft, vulnerable smile on my face.

Climbing into bed, I pulled the duvet up to my chin and closed my eyes, the comforting weight of his memory finally lulling me into a deep, peaceful sleep.

The Next Morning

The cheerful chirping of birds and the bright, golden Delhi sunlight flooded the breakfast terminal the next morning.

I walked down into the dining area, the delicious, savory aroma of roasted mustard seeds, curry leaves, and turmeric instantly making my stomach growl. Edla Aunty was standing by the stove, humming a cheerful tune as she tossed a massive pan of fresh, steaming poha, scattering bright green coriander and crunchy peanuts over the top.

"Good morning, my child!" Dadi smiled warmly from the head of the table, her elegant silk saree draped perfectly around her shoulders as she adjusted her glasses.

"Morning, Dadi! Edla Aunty, that smells absolutely heaven," I beamed, kissing Dadi’s wrinkled cheek before taking my usual seat.

Edla Aunty walked over, placing a steaming bowl of yellow poha in front of me with a proud smile. "Eat, eat. You've been looking a bit pale lately, Isha. You need proper home cooked food."

I laughed, squeezing lime juice over my plate. "I'm perfectly fine, Aunty...Just a bit stressed with the final college submissions."

We were just chatting casually, the atmosphere light and comfortable, when the heavy front doors of the mansion clicked open. Heavy, authoritative footsteps echoed across the marble foyer.

The laughter at the table instantly died.

I turned my head, my spoon freezing mid air. Walking into the dining hall, flanked by his private security guards, was my father...

My jaw dropped slightly. "Dad? You’re back? You said you’d be in Chandigarh for at least another week."

He looked incredibly sharp but a little softer this time , but there was a strange, heavy exhaustion lingering in his eyes that he was trying desperately to hide behind his standard corporate mask. He didn't answer me immediately. He walked straight over to Dadi, bending down respectfully to touch her feet.

"Bless you, Alok," Dadi murmured, her sharp eyes scanning his face with maternal concern. "You look tired... Has everything been alright?"

"Everything is fine, Ma," Dad replied, his voice tight and formal. He turned his gaze toward me, his expression unreadable as he stepped closer. He reached out, patting my shoulder briefly rare gesture of affection from a man who usually operated like a machine. "Good morning, Isha."

"Good morning, Dad," I said slowly, a sudden, uneasy knot forming in the pit of my stomach. The spontaneous return, the heavy silence... something was entirely wrong. "Did the Malhotra audit finish early? Is everything okay with the firm?"

Dad didn't sit down. He didn't even look at the breakfast spread. He adjusted the cuffs of his expensive shirt, his voice dropping into a serious, commanding tone that instantly made the hairs on my arms stand up.

"Finish your breakfast, Isha beta,"** Dad said smoothly, his eyes locking onto mine with a gravity of something that was coming soon"And then come upstairs. We need to talk in my study room immediately"...yeah there it is!

Without waiting for my reply, he turned on his heel and walked toward the grand staircase, leaving a suffocating, heavy silence behind him.

I slowly pushed open the heavy oak door to the study. Dad was standing near his massive mahogany desk, his back to me, holding a thick, weathered manila file in his hands. The room was silent, smelling faintly of leather and old paper.

"You wanted to see me, Dad?" I asked quietly, walking closer.

He turned around. His face looked incredibly old in the morning light, the sharp corporate mask completely gone. He didn't say a word. He just extended his hand, offering the file to me.

I took it, my heart beginning to thump uncomfortably against my ribs. I opened the cover, my eyes scanning the faded official documents inside. The words jumped out at me like physical blows. Autopsy report. Medical examiner's note. Case number: 2019/Meera Rawal.

My breath caught in my throat. I stumbled back a step, my hands trembling violently as I looked at the hidden forensic statements.

"Dad... what is this?" I whispered, my voice breaking. "The crash... the police said it was a brake failure. They said it was a tragic accident."

"It wasn't an accident, Isha," Dad said, his voice completely hollow, cracking with a pain he had buried for seven years. "Your mother was murdered."

The world seemed to stop spinning. A cold, suffocating numbness washed over me. "Murdered? Maa ka khoon hua tha? No... no, how? Who would do that to her?" Tears instantly blurred my vision, spilling over my cheeks. "Why didn't you tell me? Why was the case closed?!"

"Because we had no proper proof, Isha!" Dad slammed his fist lightly against the desk, his own eyes glistening with unshed tears. "We were weak back then. The status of our rivals was too strong, and the local police were bought out. The case was completely shut and buried within a week even before you woke up from your coma in the hospital. I was helpless. I couldn't do justice to my wife."

"Then who did it, Dad?!" I screamed, the grief ripping through my chest as I gripped the file tightly against my ribs. "Who killed her? Tell me!"

"I don't have the final names yet, but we finally have a massive opportunity to reopen the case legally," Dad said, stepping closer and grabbing my shaking shoulders. "We can bring the file back to life. We can finally destroy the people who took Meera away from us."

I wiped my face with the back of my hand, a fierce, desperate fire igniting through my grief. "Then do it, Dad! Kuch bhi karo. Do whatever it takes to give justice to Mom! Hire the best lawyers in the country. Burn our entire bank balance if you have to!"

Dad slowly let go of my shoulders, looking away, his posture sagging. "It’s not that easy, beta. It’s a seven year old case. It’s incredibly complicated, and the files have been deeply corrupted by the system. Normal lawyers won't even touch it."

"Then what do we do?" I pleaded, looking at him desperately. "There has to be a way."

"There is only one way," Dad whispered, looking back at me with a heavy, guilt ridden expression. "I have received a powerful offer from a very influential family. The patriarch is a top legal tycoon who can manipulate the system and force the courts to reopen the case. But they have a condition."

I frowned, a sudden chill running down my spine. "A condition? What condition?"

"They want you to marry their younger son."

I froze.... The words didn't make sense in my brain. "What? Aap yeh kya keh rahe ho? Marry? I can't... I don't even know them! I can't marry a stranger for a legal deal, Dad!"

"That is exactly what I told them, Isha," Dad said quickly, his voice laced with frustration. "I argued.... I refused.... But the father was blunt without this family alliance, he will not lift a finger to help us with your mother's case. He wants his family name legally tied to ours before he goes to war with the system."

"It's not possible," I shook my head, my mind frantic, instantly flashing to a pair of mismatched eyes and a grey hoodie tucked safely in my cupboard. "Give me their address. I will go and talk to them myself. I will beg them, I will pay them..."

"No! It is not safe for you to approach them like that," Dad interrupted sharply. "I don't want to force you into this, Isha, I really don't... but his son is actually a very good match. He is young, incredibly smart, and he controls their digital infrastructure. And... there is a clause."

I looked up through my tears. "A clause?"

"We negotiated a private exit," Dad said softly, leaning in. "You only have to stay in the marriage for one year to satisfy the market alliance. You can quietly divorce him after a year, and you'll be entirely free....No strings attached."

I stood perfectly still in the center of the dark study.....My mind was a chaotic war zone One year One year of my life tied to a stranger, in exchange for the truth about who murdered my mother. I looked down at the faded photograph of my mom inside the file. She had given up everything for me, and for seven years, her spirit must been resting in an unsolved, covered up grave.

I have to do this for her, I thought, a numb, painful resolve settling deep into my bones.

"Is the divorce part absolutely true, Dad?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper. "If I do this... will Mom really get justice?"

"Yes," Dad said quietly. "I swear it."

"Then... then I am ready," I whispered, closing my eyes. "I'll marry him."

Dad let out a long, heavy breath, looking both relieved and deeply sorrowful. "Thank you, Isha. ..The formal engagement will happen tomorrow evening. They are coming here."

Tomorrow.....It was all happening so fast, like a landslide suffocating me. I couldn't even speak. I just nodded numbly, dropped the file onto his desk, turned on my heel, and ran out of the study.

I bolted down the corridor, flew down the stairs, and slammed my bedroom door shut, locking it from the inside.

The moment the lock clicked, my knees completely gave out. I collapsed onto the floor, burying my face in my hands as violent, ragged sobs tore through my body. It was too much....the horrifying truth about my mother, the crushing weight of a forced marriage, and the sudden, painful shattering of all the secret, beautiful dreams I had started building about Vedant over the last twenty....four hours.

"Why is this happening?" I cried out to the empty room, clenching my fists against the cold floor, completely broken and frustrated by a fate I couldn't control.