I glanced down at my father's face.His ruddy cheeks gave the impression of life, yet the stark white of his garments contradicted that illusion. My father never wore white, and he was never one to stay still. The figure before me, nestled in the casket, was no longer the vibrant man I once knew. Though he appeared alive, I understood he was gone forever.
My mother had spared no effort in arranging a dignified funeral for him. She wanted him to appear his best, even in death's embrace. With the casket open and mourners observing, she ensured his appearance was impeccable.
Beside me, my mother wept uncontrollably, her tears, a testament to the depth of her love. I wanted to join her in mourning, but the intrusive flashes of cameras demanded composure. I had to remain strong for my family. My younger siblings struggled to contain their grief, understandably so. Yet, as the eldest and an adult, I bore the responsibility of strength.
Vivek Arora, the Mafia Boss of Bangalore City, was gone. His demise, a tragedy, claimed by liver cancer. My mother would likely attribute it to his alcohol consumption, but my father was moderate in his habits. He was a good man, at least to me. His professional life, however, was a separate matter.
As I observed my father's associates, clad in white, their stoic expressions betrayed no emotion. Perhaps, within, they schemed against our family. After all, my younger brother was a mere fifteen-year-old, ill-equipped to lead this city.
A lump formed in my throat as I gazed at my father once more. His laughter once filled rooms; now, silence enveloped him. Death had wrought a profound transformation.
Anticipating the challenges ahead for my family, I knew mourning would be brief. Soon, power-hungry factions would emerge, challenging my brother's authority. Aksh stood no chance against their machinations. I needed to act preemptively.
Marriage was my solution—a means to safeguard my family until my brother matured. My sisters were too young, and Aksh lacked the strength to protect us. My father's associates, like vultures, circled, awaiting an opportunity to strike. I sought a protector among them.
Surveying the room, I noticed men a decade my senior eyeing me and my sisters like prey.
Turning to my mother, I offered silent support. She leaned into me, her sobs intensifying. I whispered words of solace, allowing her this moment of vulnerability.
My gaze shifted to my youngest sister, Diya, her eyes closed in prayer before our father's body. In her innocence, she believed he would ascend to heaven.
A purity I wished to preserve.
Though unaware of my father's full transgressions, I understood the implications of his title. One does not ascend to Mafia boss without moral compromise. I pondered whether his destination was heaven or hell. Or were we, his children, destined to atone for his sins?
"Nitya, I'll console Ma. Uncle Raj wishes to speak with you," my sister Nila interjected. She was the second oldest and would soon turn eighteen. She had the same fate as me but I would do everything in my power to prevent that.
I proceeded to my father's study, only to find my uncle occupying his chair. Barely a day had passed since my father's passing, yet my uncle sought to usurp his position.
Arms folded across my chest, I inquired, "You called for me?"
"Yes, Nitya. I understand this is unfortunate. Your father was a good man, taken too soon. However, we must move forward swiftly to avoid chaos. I've arranged a match for you."
We both knew the candidate well—Anand Raichand.
I recoiled in disgust and disbelief. Anand Raichand, an aging pervert thrice divorced, was hardly a suitable match.
"It's a prudent proposal. Anand possesses wealth and can protect our family from insurgents," my uncle insisted.
"I cannot—" I began.
"She will marry him," my mother interjected firmly, her decision final.
Stunned, I met her gaze. "But Ma—"
"Our family's safety is paramount, Nitya. As the eldest daughter, it is your duty."
I watched, betrayed, as my fate was sealed to a man I abhorred.
"I'll be relocating to the master bedroom today. Radhika, make the arrangements," my uncle declared, brushing past my mother. That was my mother's room.
Confounded, I turned to her, seeking answers.
"Do not be deceived, Nitya. I would never subject you to that fate. I desire a happy marriage for all my children," she affirmed, wiping away my tears."But Ma, if not him, then who?" I despaired.
"Your father foresaw this. He made preparations to secure a favorable alliance upon his passing. A man from Mumbai, powerful and reputable, will come for you soon. In the meantime, I accepted Anand's proposal to buy time."
I blinked in astonishment. "Mumbai? Leave our family?"
"I know it's difficult, but it's necessary. Trust your father's judgment. He always chose what was best for you."
"Do you know his name?"
My mother shook her head. "No, but your father trusted him. Prepare for your departure to Mumbai."
"But how can he protect us from there?"
"His influence extends far. This marriage will consolidate our power."
"I fear leaving you all behind."
"I know." My mother grasped my hand. "You've always been our strength. By doing this, you'll continue to protect us."
Though comforted, unease gnawed at me.
Mumbai was foreign territory, and this man was an enigma. But for now, my concerns were secondary.
I had my family to shield.
YOU ARE READING
ARJUN- The Monster [BOOK 1]
RomanceIn the shadowy underworld of Mumbai, Arjun Mishra, known only as The Monster, lurks in the shadows, feared and unseen. Bound by a promise to a dying man, he's thrust into an unexpected role as protector to Nitya, the eldest daughter of the Arora fam...