After the Man's Departure:
Once the mysterious man had left, Shivani slowly rose from the bed, wrapping herself in the bedsheet. Her steps were unsteady as she moved towards the bathroom, each step heavy with grief and fear. When she reached the mirror, she paused, staring blankly at her own reflection, eyes hollow, lips trembling. Her fingers traced the red marks on her skin, remnants of the night that had shattered her soul. Her breaths grew ragged, and she rubbed her arms desperately, as if scrubbing away the memories could erase the pain. But the marks only deepened, the sensation of burning spreading like wildfire. Tears spilled from her eyes, blurring her vision as she collapsed onto the cold, tiled floor, her sobs echoing through the room.
Unbeknownst to her, the man observed her every move from the adjacent room, hidden behind a one-way mirror. His eyes followed her trembling figure, his expression hard yet conflicted. As Shivani wept, his hand involuntarily moved to the mirror's surface, as if trying to wipe away her tears. His mind was a storm of confusion—why did her suffering unsettle him? Why did it claw at his conscience, scraping away at the walls he had built around his heart? He pulled back, shaking his head, and returned to his desk where his computer screen flickered with images of Shivani, each frame edited with precision. But there was something about her...something that made him watch her over and over, an obsession that grew stronger with every call he made to her. And Shivani—she feared those calls more than she feared death.
A Week Later:
Seven days crawled by, each one heavier than the last. Shivani's world crumbled piece by piece. The insurance company, LIC, accused her of arson, refusing her any settlement money. The banks, merciless and swift, seized Abhay's properties for unpaid loans, and within days, 80% of their assets were auctioned off to the highest bidder—Niranjan. Everything was gone. The house, the savings, even the smallest comforts of life had slipped through her fingers. Now, she and Aditya were left with nothing but the clothes on their backs and memories too painful to hold.
But the man, the shadow that loomed over her existence, continued to call. He summoned her at odd hours, to strange locations, his voice chillingly calm. Her fear was his power; her compliance, his command. She knew she had no choice. If she disobeyed, he threatened to release the video—the video that would destroy what little dignity she had left—or worse, harm Aditya. She had seen what he was capable of. She couldn't risk it.
Day 8:
A fever burned through Shivani's body that day. She had barely managed to give Aditya his medicine before collapsing beside him, her limbs heavy with exhaustion. She had just closed her eyes when her phone rang. The unknown number sent a shiver down her spine. She knew who it was. Her heart pounded as she picked up the call. His voice was sharp, cutting through her fevered haze.
He didn't wait for her response; he simply texted her an address and ended the call. Shivani's hands shook as she read it, knowing she had no choice but to obey. She arrived at the location, her eyes blindfolded as instructed, her heart hammering in her chest. She sat on the edge of the bed, her fever raging, but the man showed no mercy. He took what he wanted, ignoring the heat radiating from her skin, his touch indifferent to her suffering.
Day 15:
Aditya was finally discharged from the hospital. Weak and unsteady, Shivani carried him in her arms, walking through unfamiliar streets with nowhere to go. Her steps faltered, but she pushed forward, clutching him tightly as if he were her only tether to sanity.
Just as they exited the hospital gates, the man's voice rang out behind her. "Miss Shivani," he called, his tone dripping with malice. "You won't be able to show your face to anyone ever again." His eyes gleamed with cruel delight as he held up his phone, uploading the MMS of Shivani to a porn site. But before the upload could complete, his phone battery died.
At that very moment, his other phone rang. It was Aman.
"Hello, Aman! What's up? Why did you call?" the man asked, his tone still ice-cold.
"Jay, I need you to come to this address immediately. It's urgent!" Aman's voice crackled with urgency.
"Wait, I can't get to England that quickly," Jay replied, irritation flaring in his voice.
Aman's response was sharp. "I'm in India. Come here quickly."
Jay arrived at the address Aman had sent, finding him deep in conversation with another man.
"Who's this?" Jay asked, his gaze sharp and untrusting.
Aman turned, nodding towards the stranger. "Jay, this is Bharat Azad. A retired army officer, now a private detective. I hired him to investigate the accident involving Sanjana."
They shook hands firmly, and Bharat Azad wasted no time. "There's something shocking in the investigation report," he announced, leading them to a table where his laptop sat, screen glowing with paused footage.
He clicked play, and the video of the party and the accident flickered to life.
As the scenes unfolded, Jay's face went pale.
What is in the video that shocked Jay so much?