He was oppressed by everyone around him, 'Love and care' were the terms used, for he inherits billions.
His voice was never heard outside the walls of his mind.
It was all until he realised what was happening around him. He started his game so quiet...
"The criminal is the creative artist; the detective only the critic,"
- G.K. Chesterton
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Truth varies from eye to eye. Like two sides of a coin, different versions of the same story swirl around us. We cling to the narratives that fit comfortably within our boundaries, but the uncensored version is often too uncomfortable to confront.
Believing in what my heart finds true feels like madness. My heart is filled with love and compassion, but my mind—my mind is sensible and pragmatic. A person's life is often defined by how well they can mold themselves to the commands of their mind. This conflict between heart and mind is like a double-edged sword; mastering both is essential for survival.
I had thought I had everything under control until Vikram was shot. That incident shattered my sense of peace and left me feeling adrift.
It would have been easy for the police to drag me in as the prime suspect, but they didn't even question me the way they did with Adhi. Instead, Shakti had involved me in major decision-making and asked me to handle the media, knowing full well my profession. The confusion weighed heavily on me.
Yes, my timely help had saved Vikram's life, and his family was grateful for that, but everything felt wrong. Something was amiss, and a strong suspicion began to root itself in my mind.
I needed to dig deeper into this matter; my sources could be invaluable. What I planned was unethical and wrong in many ways. I'd been friends with Adhi for years and had never taken advantage of that friendship—even when my boss pressured me to sneak information about the inheritance of Mariko Enterprises, I'd politely declined.
But now? Now, I was willing to compromise my morals to uncover the truth, even if I didn't fully understand why I felt compelled to do so. I justified my motives with two reasons: First, I wanted to know who the actual target was. With Vikram's sudden involvement, I strongly suspected the target might be me, Adhi, or anyone else present that day. I couldn't afford to risk my life or my friends' lives.
The second reason was the promotion that awaited me, one that would elevate my career manifold. Yes, I was being selfish, but wasn't that just how the world worked?
The café where vikram was shot was sealed off by the police, no one allowed inside except for a select few authorities. Being a reporter had its perks; I knew how to push the right buttons to gain access to places others were barred from.
I waited in my car near the old building at the end of the lane where the café sat. The road was desolate, devoid of life except for me.
As evening approached, a gentle breeze drifted through the air. The creepers that had grown against the worn-out wall of the building swayed slightly, their leaves brushing against one another as a gust scattered tiny granules of sand onto their surfaces.
