PAINFUL PLEASURE [COMPLETED]

44. Scandal

AVNEET'S POV

I silently exited my car and walked towards security, holding the reporters back.

"Close the door to the basement," I said to one of the guards discreetly.

"Avneet ma'am, what do you have to say about the scandal?"

"Will you support your husband or the innocent girl?"

"Who is the girl?"

"Did you know about this?"

"Does Siddharth Nigam abuse you?"

"We support you, ma'am. Please tell us the truth."

Support me my foot.

Every reporter present was looking for more fuel to add to the fire. All they cared about was their own TRP, even if it came at the cost of someone else's reputation.

I had so much to say. My hands were itching with the need to slap each one of them at least a hundred times, but anything I did would have reflected on my husband.

I could not risk anything else going wrong.

"The doors. They closed the gates of the basement," one reporter finally noticed.

I stepped forward.

"As I see it and believe it, this basement is my property. Any reporter standing here has trespassed on my property, intending to degrade my husband nonetheless."

I could not help but add the last part.

"The police will be here in a few minutes. You know how this works. Your cameras will be seized, any recordings will be deleted, and a fine will be charged."

"We are trying to help you here," a woman shouted.

"The position that I am at," I said, spreading my arms and motioning to the empire that I had built, "I can help myself more than any of you ever could. Do not worry about me."

"What about the young girl? You, as a woman, should know how much she must be traumatised."

The police sirens blared, effectively stopping me from scratching this woman's face apart.

Traumatised?

If she was traumatised then I couldn't believe how destroyed Siddharth would be feeling right now. My heart clenched. My husband. My world. He was accused of such a heinous act. The man who worships me is being called my abuser.

Emotions flowed freely in my chest till it became difficult to stand up.

"Take me home," I told the driver.

He must have noticed my condition because he broke all the speeding and traffic rules to complete the 15-minute drive in under 7 minutes in peak traffic hours.

It was still too slow.

I rushed upstairs, waiting for the elevator to ding. I burst into our bedroom, and looking at Siddharth shook me to my core.

Never, never in my life ever have I seen him look this broken and defeated.

I hugged his crying form as best as I could from behind. The pillow was wet with his tears, and he was still wearing his suit and shoes.

"Shh," I tried to coax him, my own tears spilling out.

"I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry," he kept repeating.

"You didn't do anything, baby. I believe you. You are not the culprit." I rubbed his back and tried to keep my voice from wavering while talking.

"You do?" He asked. He turned towards me, and the raw doubt on his face undid me.