Vows Of Vengeance

Chapter 5

Aradhya marched towards the Diwan mansion, her heart pounding with anger and determination. The grand façade of the Diwan mansion, usually a symbol of opulence and power, seemed to mock Aradhya as she approached. The Diwan mansion was a testament to opulence and power, a harmonious blend of traditional grandeur and contemporary elegance. The sprawling edifice was a masterpiece of architecture, its façade a symphony of warm sandstone and sleek glass.

As she approached, the wrought iron gates, adorned with intricate designs, swung open with a soft creak, revealing a circular driveway paved with gleaming black marble. Several high-end cars, their sleek bodies glistening in the sunlight, were parked haphazardly, hinting at the affluent lifestyle within.

The mansion was flanked by manicured lawns, sculpted hedges, and a sparkling swimming pool. A covered porch, supported by ornate pillars, extended from the main entrance. The wooden flooring, polished to a warm sheen, was adorned with intricately patterned rugs. Potted palms and exotic flowers added a touch of tropical elegance.

Double wooden doors, inlaid with brass, stood as sentinels guarding the mansion's heart. Carved with intricate motifs, they seemed to whisper tales of a bygone era. As the doors swung open, Aradhya stepped into a world of opulence.

The grand living room was a spectacle of grandeur. The high ceiling, adorned with intricate frescoes, was dominated by a colossal chandelier, a cascade of crystal droplets that shimmered like diamonds under the soft glow of concealed lights. The walls were adorned with masterpieces of art, a curated collection that spanned centuries. Plush sofas and armchairs, upholstered in rich velvet, were arranged in intimate conversation groups. A grand fireplace, made of Italian marble, was the focal point of the room, its mantelpiece adorned with exquisite porcelain vases and family portraits.

The fusion of traditional and contemporary elements created an atmosphere of timeless elegance. Every corner of the room spoke of wealth and taste, yet there was an undercurrent of coldness, a sense of detachment that chilled Aradhya to the bone.

Aradhya's gaze swept the room, landing on each face in turn. Raghav Diwan, her so called father, who wore a mask of practiced composure, his eyes holding a flicker of unease. Siya, her mother, sat hunched, her face a pale canvas of guilt and fear. Pihu, her half-sister, was a radiant anomaly, her laughter echoing through the room in jarring contrast to the undercurrent of tension. And then there were the Vansh and Riddhima Raisinghania, seated beside the Diwans. The Raisinghania who were angry with Diwans the other day were now behaving like long lost friends.

The room fell silent as everyone noticed her presence. Aradhya stood at the doorway, her expression a mixture of shock and disbelief. For a moment, she was paralyzed, unable to process the surreal scene before her. The juxtaposition of celebration and betrayal was overwhelming.

Raghav Diwan was the first to speak, his voice laced with a warmth. "Aradhya! We weren't expecting you."

Aradhya's voice, cold as winter, cut through the veneer of civility. "I'm sure you weren't expecting me, Mr. Diwan," she said, her eyes boring into him. "Because if you had, you wouldn't have dared to gather here, celebrating, while my sister is missing."

The room stilled, the opulent decor suddenly seeming claustrophobic. Siya's hands trembled as she clutched a handkerchief, her eyes pleading. Raghav's smile faltered, replaced by a mask of feigned concern. Vansh Raisinghania, a man of few words, watched the unfolding drama with a detached intensity.

She turned her gaze to Siya, her mother, who sat pale and silent. "What are you doing?" Aradhya demanded, her voice trembling with barely suppressed rage. "How can you sit here playing happy family while your own daughter is missing?"