All lost.
All preventable.
All... my fault.
Maybe not fully.
But my decisions, my mistakes, could’ve prevented an outcome. But could it have prevented everything? The non-answers are heavy. I don’t know if centralizing everything in my decisions is the right way to go. But blame is a bitch.
I press the heels of my palms to my eyes until I see stars.
Dr. Reza doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t need to.
Because the silence has spoken loud enough.
FOURTEEN
Aadya
It’s been almost three weeks.
Three weeks since Advik told me abouther.
Khushi Joshi is the only public death record I’ve found connected to the adopted children. Maybe she’s the key. Maybe she’s not. But she’s led ussomewhere. That’s more than we had before.
Now we know the exit point.
Not a port, technically. Just a hidden ledge spilling into the ocean. If it weren’t for the makeshift concrete bollards and frayed ropes scattered along the edges, we might’ve assumed it was just another stretch of rock—remote, inaccessible.
But the location matched where Khushi’s body had supposedly been pulled from. A sloppy detail left behind by Mehul’s crew. One that let us trace the smuggling trail to its end.
We’re watching that ledge now. Silently. Steadily.
Still, this isn’t just about catching the damn boats. It’s about gutting the whole operation.Root to rot.
I tap my fingers on the desk in front of me. The GenVault’s meeting rooms are polished—too polished. Quietly humming like nothing sinister is happening behind the walls. But today’s the day. The day Mehul Bedi signs the contract.
And we’re handing him a gift-wrapped landmine.
Advik has been... impressive. Watching him work is like watching someone step back into their own skin. He doesn’t hesitate anymore. He isn’t silent like he was that first day.
Dev, wisely, stepped back. Let Advik run point on the deal.
And somehow, he knew exactly how to bait Mehul. I’d told him to give Mehul whatever he asked for. But Advik had a better idea.
“I won’t give him what he wants,” he’d said, smirking. “I’ll give him something shinier. And useless.”
So that’s what he did. Because Mehul is basically a whining toddler in a man’s body.
Buried inside a contract clause—a harmless-looking amendment on information accessibility—sits a clause that will slowly but thoroughly bleed Mehul’s entire hidden infrastructure. Digital and otherwise.
Vir’s running point on Mehul’s security. I’m assigned‘long-range surveillance’. Just enough to maintain the illusion. So that if I vanish now and then, it doesn’t raise flags with Mehul.
What irks me? This setup was also Advik’s idea.
And for some reason, that makes me... proud.
I fucking hate that.
