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Her voice cracks as she continues, her hands trembling.

“You almost exposed Zane on our wedding day in New York, but I trusted him over your instincts. I fought with you… for him. How could I have been so blind?”

I step closer, gripping her shoulders firmly but gently.

“You couldn’t have known, Simran. No one in your place could have. Zane played his part well. He pretended to be innocent, gained your trust, and stayed close until he had everything set for his revenge.”

Tears well in her eyes as I continue.

“But despite you asking me to stop bothering Zane, I never did. I never stopped looking into him,” I admit. “Even when he proved his so-called innocence that day outside the marriage bureau in New York, something about him felt off.”

A flash of memory hits me—Zane’s face that day, his reaction to my words.

“Remember that day when I told Zane that he wasn’t off the hook? That I’ll dig up the truth even if I have to drag his family into this mess?”

Simran nods, recalling that moment.

“He had snapped when I mentioned his family. I saw something in his eyes that day,” I continue. “His reaction wasn’t just defensive—it was intense, raw. At the time, I couldn’t pin it down. So, we kept digging into his past. And eventually, today my team back in the U.S. found the photographs—of Zane with his mother. That’s when it all clicked. I recognised her as Qureshi’s ex-wife. I’d seen her pictures years ago when I was investigating Qureshi’s past. And that connection is what led us to the truth. Zane isn’t just your stalker, Simran, but he’s someone who has been waiting for the perfect moment to take revenge on the Walia family.”

“But what about Jack? How does he fit into all this?” she asks, confused.

“I had asked Ayaan to get me the patient list from Riverside Haven Mental Health Center, where Jack was being treated before his death. That’s where we came across Zane’s name too. After Qureshi’s death, he completely lost his way, teetering on the brink of madness. He spent three and a half years in Riverside Haven, receiving treatment. That’s where they both met, as Jack Thompson and Zane were patients at the same center, at the same time. My guess is that Zane manipulated Jack and used him as a pawn to stalk and threaten you. But after Jack’s accident, Zane had to take matters into his own hands. He continued using Jack’s identity to cover his tracks—Jack’s car, his home, his everything. He even planted your photographs and personal information there, making it look like Jack was the one behind it all. And the joker mask? That was the key. That’s how he kept his real identity hidden while he terrorised you.”

“But why me?” Simran’s breath hitches. “Why did he target me? Did he know about us? And if he did, then how?

“That’s something only Zane can answer,” I mutter darkly. “But it’s clear that he knew. Somehow, he figured out the connection between us, and between me and Veer. That’s why he targeted you. To draw me out.”

I pause, my mind racing before connecting the dots.

“If he was released from the mental health center four years after Qureshi’s death—that is around two years ago—then he must’ve been keeping an eye on me and my family all this time. Watching us. Waiting for that one perfect moment.”

Before I can say more, there’s a knock on the door. Abhay steps in, his expression grave as he hurries toward me.

“Our sources just confirmed something,” he says, handing me a file. “Zane travelled to India two years ago. Here’s the copy of the passport stamps showing his entry and exit.”

My fingers tighten around the papers as I scan the dates, my chest tightening with anger.

“He stayed in India for six months,” Abhay continues. “And he returned to New York just a month before Simran moved there.”

The sharp exhale I let out doesn’t do anything to suppress the fire rising in my chest. I look up at Simran and then at Abhay.

“That means I was right. The first thing he did after leaving that mental health center was come straight here. To India. He was shadowing me.”

I throw the papers onto the table, my fists clenching at my sides.

“Look at the timing,” I growl. “The months he was here match perfectly with the time period when Ayaan and Meher got married. That’s when Meher found out the truth—that I’m a Walia. Her stepbrother.”

Simran’s face pales as she processes this. We look at each other in silent understanding. That was the time we met at the club and spent the night together in her apartment. I simply nod at her, silently confirming the unspoken question in her eyes.

“That’s when he must’ve seen us,” I mutter. Finally, the puzzles fit. “That’s how he got to know about us. And after you left for New York, he started stalking you. Keeping tabs on your every move.”

She literally trembles in shock as I say this. I can’t control the rage building inside me, either.

“All this time, he was so close to us… and we had no idea,” I angrily mutter. “For eighteen months, he was in your life, pretending to be your friend, your business associate, all the while, knowing Veer was my son. He could have harmed you both anytime, and I didn’t even see it coming.”

I close my eyes for a moment, trying to contain the storm inside me, but it’s of no use. I slam my fist onto the table again.

“I failed,” I grind out through gritted teeth.