When illness had not yet cast its shadow on Karan’s father, Dilip was already trusted. And when illness arrived, that trust deepened into dependence. Ashutosh was diagnosed with the last stage of blood cancer.
Treatment followed. So did weakness.
The man who once moved through the house commandingly, now paused on staircases, leaned against doorframes, and took longer to finish sentences. Business matters that had once energised him began to exhaust him. It was then that Dilip stepped further in, filling spaces without being asked. He attended meetings in place of Ashutosh. He signed documents. Reassured clients. Promised continuity.
Karan’s mother, Asha, trusted him too, because her husband did. She had never run a company. Her world had been home and family responsibility. Numbers and balance sheets were foreign to her. When her husband spoke of Dilip with confidence, she accepted it without question. When he decided to formally entrust the business to him, until Karan would turn 18 and take over, it felt like the only logical choice.
Dilip promised to safeguard the company until Karan was older; he reassured that he would always stand by the family and protect them.
Just a few months later, death finally arrived at the doorstep, taking Karan’s father along, and leaving behind a silence that swallowed the house whole. Karan was hardly 14 years old. Too young to bear the loss of a father. Too fragile to support his mother and the family.
The funeral passed in a blur. Dilip, as promised, stood close, taking charge of arrangements where needed. He spoke to lawyers. He handled paperwork. He told Karan’s mother not to worry, that everything was under control.
At first, nothing seemed wrong.
Then, slowly, things began to open up.
Bank statements arrived that made no sense. Losses were explained away as market shifts. Missing funds were blamed on delayed returns. When questioned, Dilip’s answers were almost convincing. Anyone else might have accepted them.
But Karan’s mother had lived with a man who valued truth above convenience. Something felt wrong, and she refused to quiet that instinct.
She reached out discreetly to an old family friend, a man her husband had trusted, Rajat’s father, Vishwanath.
Vishwanath did not rush to conclusions. He did not accuse. He simply helped Asha find the gaps and showed her where to look.
Together, they followed the numbers.
What they found was not just mismanagement. It was theft.
There were forged business invoices. Shell accounts. Money was diverted methodically into channels that had nothing to do with the company. The scale of it all was staggering. It was a hard-core betrayal from the most trusted person in their lives – Dilip Goel.
It was then that Karan’s mother decided to confront Dilip in his farmhouse, and she took Karan with her. Vishwanath had asked her to wait until he reached, so they could together confront him, but she didn’t wait. As soon as she reached the farmhouse, she asked Karan to wait outside the room, near the door. She did not want him to hear harsh words, seeing things that could scar him.
The room, supposedly Dilip Goel’s study room, had glass doors. Karan stood in the hallway, watching everything.
Inside, his mother laid the documents on the table and asked Dilip to explain. Initially, Dilip tried to convince her with more fake stories. But she wasn’t buying any this time. When he realised that he was exposed, denial gave way to irritation. Irritation soon hardened into panic when she threatened to reach out for legal help and make sure, he was thrown out of the company the very next day.
Karan pressed closer to the glass wall, watching it all unfold before his eyes.
And then it happened.
Dilip reached into his drawer and grabbed his loaded gun, aiming it at Asha. Karan screamed in fear, banging at the glass door to open. Dilip wanted to escape, but Asha didn’t let him and kept blocking his way fearlessly. She knew Vishwanath would be here any moment with the police to arrest Dilip.
In that tug of war between Asha and Dilip, finding no other way to escape from the situation, he pushed her away with force, pointed the gun at her stumbled form, and pulled the trigger, aiming straight for her heart.
The gunshot pierced through the air, echoed longer than it should have.
‘Maa…’ Karan’s scream tore the silence as he watched his mother crumple to the floor, her body folding in on itself. Blood spread bright against the marble floor.
He hit the glass with his fists, his voice breaking as he watched his mother collapse in silence. He could see her eyes, wide, searching, fading. But he could not reach her. He could not help her.
Dilip stood frozen for a second, with the gun heavy in his hand, realising what he had done, but it was already too late. The police entered, securing the perimeter, not letting him escape. Vishwanath, equally shocked and torn, seeing Asha lying dead on the ground, pulled Karan away from watching her cold and lifeless.
Dilip was arrested and taken away. The medical team had arrived but pronounced Asha dead. That day was the day Karan stopped smiling. Something inside him hardened beyond repair. Trust died. Mercy burned away.
That was the day he learned that loyalty was a lie, and that some debts could only be paid in blood or ruin.
The law moved swiftly once the truth was out. The forged papers, false loyalty, the confessions, all of it stackedagainst Dilip Goel. The court pronounced its judgment without sentiment. He was sentenced to lifetime imprisonment until his last breath. No parole. No mercy.
