The moment Devika heard her father's words, an uncontrollable tremor overtook her. Her delicate heart shattered into a thousand fragments. The man she had idolized as her superhero had just called her tainted blood.
For years, Devika had struggled to understand why her parents treated her so differently from other children. Why had they never loved her? What unforgivable mistake had she committed to deserve their indifference? But today, the truth was clear—she was tainted blood in their eyes.
Standing beside her, Clara had overheard Jacob's words. The revelation left her stunned, but more than that, it filled her with an overwhelming sense of sorrow for Devika.
Clara had watched her grow up, cared for her as a child, even changed her diapers. She had witnessed firsthand the cold detachment with which Jacob and his wife had treated their daughter.
Regardless of the truth of her lineage, Devika was still just a thirteen-year-old girl—innocent, vulnerable. To neglect her for years was cruel enough, but now, to strip her of her very identity? Clara could not abide such heartlessness.
Seeing the young girl tremble, Clara instinctively stepped forward, her voice gentle yet firm.
"Devika, sweetheart, please don't take Boss's words to heart. I truly believe this is a misunderstanding. Come with me—let me tend to your wounds first. Once you've calmed down, we can speak to him together."
Clara desperately wanted to believe that Jacob was mistaken, but at this moment, her only concern was getting Devika away from here.
But before she could reach her, Devika recoiled violently, shaking her head frantically.
"No, no! Stay away from me! Don't come near me!" Her voice cracked as she stumbled backward. "I… I am tainted blood. If you touch me, you'll be tainted too, Aunt Clara. From now on, stay away from me—far away!"
The sheer anguish in her voice sent a chill down Clara's spine.
Before she could react, Devika shoved her with such force that Clara staggered backward, colliding with an ornate porcelain vase. It crashed to the floor, shattering into countless fragments.
Yet, Clara barely noticed the destruction. Her mind reeled, not from the impact but from the depth of Devika's despair.
She had expected the girl to be hurt by Jacob's words, but she had never imagined their impact would be so devastating.
Devika was unraveling before her eyes—muttering to herself, whispering those same words again and again. Tainted blood. As if she were forcing herself to accept the most harrowing truth of her existence.
Determined, Clara took a step forward.
But Devika's response was swift—she shoved her with all her strength and fled.
Tears burned in Clara's eyes. Without a moment's hesitation, she chased after the girl.
Yet by the time she reached outside, Devika was nowhere in sight.
Frantic, she turned to the guards. "Did any of you see where Devika went?"
One of them shook his head. "No, ma'am. It's past eleven—we had all gathered in the backyard for the position change. No one was stationed here at the time. It's difficult to say where she went… Perhaps checking the CCTV footage would help?"
Clara didn't waste another second. She spun on her heel and sprinted back inside the cottage.
In the lavish living area, Jacob lounged carelessly, his legs propped up on the tea table. A cigarette smoldered between his fingers, while in his other hand, he lazily swirled a glass of wine, lost in thought.
Across from him, Benzine sat in silence, his gaze fixed on his friend with quiet scrutiny.
Clara stormed into the room, urgency radiating from her every step.
"Boss, I need access to the CCTV monitoring room—immediately!"
Jacob's brows furrowed at her demand.
"Miss Clara, why this sudden request? And why do you look so unsettled? What happened?"
Struggling to catch her breath, Clara blurted out, "It's Devika… She was here a while ago. She overheard your conversation, and then—then she ran off, calling herself tainted blood over and over again. She's injured, Boss. I don't know where she's gone, but I'm terrified for her. Please, give me the access key—I need to find her!"
The moment Jacob heard Devika's name, his expression darkened.
Without hesitation, he shot to his feet and bolted toward the monitoring room.
Clara and Benzine hurried after him.
The CCTV footage confirmed Devika had fled toward the eastern route.
Jacob wasted no time. Grabbing his car keys, he strode outside, his movements sharp with urgency.
"Search the forest," he ordered his guards. "Find her—now."
And with that, he jumped into his car, revved the engine, and sped off into the night—chasing after the girl who had just learned the cruelest truth of her life.
On the Other Side
Amidst the desolate forest, Devika sat motionless in the middle of the road, her head buried in her knees. Her slender frame trembled violently, yet not a single sob escaped her lips.
Only her silent tears bore witness to her pain. The world around her had ceased to exist—nothing mattered anymore.
Even as the distant roar of an approaching car shattered the stillness, she remained unmoved. A white sports car, its headlights slicing through the darkness, sped towards her, its horn blaring in urgent warning. Yet, Devika did not flinch. Whether she failed to hear the sound or had simply chosen not to, was uncertain. Perhaps she longed for oblivion.
The car, tearing through the road at breakneck speed, screeched as the driver slammed the brakes. Tires burned against asphalt, leaving a sharp, winding scar on the road before the vehicle halted—just two inches from her fragile form.
The driver's door swung open, and a tall, striking man emerged, dressed impeccably in an expensive business suit.
He stood still for a moment, his sharp gaze fixed upon her before he took a cautious step forward. She remained curled within herself, as if retreating from the world.
Lowering himself onto his heels, the man spoke, his voice deep yet laced with tenderness.
"Devika."
At the sudden, achingly familiar voice, Devika lifted her head—slowly, almost reluctantly.
Before her knelt Hitesh Oberoi, her uncle.
The moment his eyes confirmed the truth, he pulled her into his arms, his grip fierce with relief.
Pressing a desperate kiss to her forehead, he murmured, "I was gone for just two days, and this is what you've done to yourself? Had I known, I would never have left you alone."
Devika said nothing.
A long silence stretched between them before she finally whispered, her voice barely audible—
"I am not filthy blood."
Hitesh's chiseled features hardened instantly.
"Who told you this nonsense?" he demanded, cupping her delicate face in his hands.
Her reply came in a broken murmur, each word laced with uncertainty.
"I'm not… right? Daddy said I am. He said I'm filthy blood." Her voice wavered. "But I'm not… am I, Uncle?"
Before Hitesh could speak, Devika's hands trembled, and suddenly, with all the strength she could muster, she shoved him away. The force sent him stumbling backward.
Rising to her feet, she whispered, as if speaking to herself—
"No. If Daddy said it, then it must be true. He never lies." She let out a brittle laugh, her eyes hollow. "Yes, I really am filthy blood. I really am."
Hitesh felt the ground shift beneath him. The girl before him—his niece—was unrecognizable. This was not Devika.
A terrifying thought gripped him. Had she lost her mind?
The very notion sent a tremor of fear through him. He had to get her home. Now.
Extending his hand with measured calm, he coaxed, "Devika, sweetheart, come here. Let's go home."
Devika's lips curved into a faint, tragic smile.
"If I step into your house, I will stain it, Uncle," she whispered.
Hitesh turned pale. But now, at least, he understood—she was far from lucid.
Carefully, he took a slow step forward, but Devika instinctively retreated.
A sharp pang of dread coiled in his chest. Just behind her lay the edge of a towering waterfall.
The water raged, its force deadly enough to tear through flesh and bone.
His heart pounded. Swiftly, he lunged forward, reaching for her hand—
But he was a second too late.
Devika turned, her lips forming a wistful smile. And then, without hesitation, she let herself fall—vanishing into the abyss below.
"Devika! No!"
Hitesh's agonized scream tore through the night, reverberating through the vast Frankfurt City Forest.
Thirteen Years Later
Delhi, India
The air in the Mehta residence was thick with tension, all because of Siya Mehta's foul mood. The cherished daughter of the family and the only child of Sanjeev Mehta, Siya was seething with rage.
Stomping her foot in frustration, she exclaimed, "Mom, I don't understand why you called that girl here! She only got the chance to leave that backward village and come to a city like Delhi because of me. And instead of being grateful, she's trying to take my place! What does she have that made the Singhania family choose her? She isn't as well-educated as I am, she lacks class, and she doesn't even come from a respectable lineage. How could the Singhanias be so blind? How can they choose an illiterate, uncultured girl for Sharvik Singhania? I won't let this happen. No matter what, I will not allow Surbhi to take what's mine. I'd rather see her dead! The only person who deserves to marry Sharvik Singhania is me!"
Mrs. Mehta, standing by with one hand on her hip, massaged her temples, exhaling slowly. She, too, was baffled by the Singhania family's decision.
She had once been a girl from a humble village, someone who had fought tooth and nail to secure a scholarship to study in Delhi. There, she had fallen in love—with a man who, though kind, lacked wealth. That love had resulted in a child—Surbhi.
But Mrs. Mehta was a woman of ambition, not sentiment. The man she had once loved was not rich enough to match her aspirations. And so, she had left him behind, choosing instead to marry Sanjeev Mehta, a wealthy businessman.
She had abandoned her illegitimate daughter in the village, leaving Surbhi to be raised by her mother. But two days ago, without explanation, she had called Surbhi to Delhi. Why now? That remained a mystery.
Then, just yesterday, an unexpected event had shaken the very foundations of the Mehta household—the arrival of the Singhania family.
While the Mehtas were a respected name in Delhi's corporate world, they were mere ants before the Singhanias, a family that wielded power like an empire.
At first, the Mehtas had been unable to comprehend why the country's most powerful family had graced their doorstep. But when Anand Singhania, the patriarch of the Singhania dynasty, revealed the reason behind their visit, the entire Mehta family was left stunned—he had come with a marriage proposal.
For a brief moment, a wave of triumph washed over them. It had to be for Siya. Perhaps, just as in the movies, Sharvik Singhania had fallen for their daughter, charmed by her beauty and intelligence.
But then, Anand Singhania spoke again—the proposal was not for Siya. It was for Surbhi.
The shock that followed was palpable.
Neither Siya nor Surbhi was of marriageable age—Siya was sixteen, Surbhi seventeen. And yet, had the proposal been for Siya, the Mehta family would have readily agreed. After all, an alliance with the Singhanias was beyond their wildest dreams.
But Surbhi? An illegitimate daughter, hidden away for years? The very thought sent ripples of disbelief through the household.
And yet, refusing the Singhanias was unthinkable. Sanjeev Mehta, despite his wealth, did not have the power to deny them. He had no choice but to agree.
And now, that decision had set Siya ablaze with fury.
Stomping her foot once more, she shouted, "Mom, why are you silent? Say something! You know how much I adore Sharvik Singhania. How can you stand by and let this happen? How can you allow that nobody to marry him? I swear, if I don't marry Sharvik Singhania, I will kill myself!"
__________________________
What happens next?
What truly happened to Devika?
Will Siya take a drastic step?
Why did Mrs. Mehta call Surbhi back after all these years?
What is her true intention?
And most importantly—why did the Singhania family arrange a marriage between Sharvik and a seventeen-year-old girl?
To know…
To be continued…