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“Simran? What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

I shake my head, unable to form the words just yet. How do I explain to her that my life has suddenly turned into some kind of surveillance nightmare? That the father of my child has essentially put me under house arrest without even being here himself?

I push myself off the door and start pacing, the nervous energy coursing through my body, demanding an outlet.

“Vishnu has rented the apartment across from us. It’s filled with men and equipment. They’re watching everything, Claire. Everything!”

Claire’s eyes widen. “What do you mean, watching everything?”

“CCTV feeds, data from the café, client details from the boutique,” I say, my voice rising with each word. “They’re monitoring it all. And that man, Abhay—he’s going to be my personal bodyguard now. Following me everywhere!”

Claire’s voice breaks through my whirlwind of thoughts. “I think Vishnu’s just trying to protect you. That’s all,” she says, her tone gentle, almost placating.

I shake my head, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. This isn’t protection. It’s blatant control.

I’ve seen this before. Vishnu is obsessed with safeguarding his family. Memories flash through my mind—subtle hints that I’d noticed in the past. The way Vishnu would tense up at the mention of his family’s safety. The elaborate fortress-like security measures at his home. The bodyguards that seemed to materialise out of thin air whenever the Walia family were out in public.

And now that he knows about the baby—our son—he’s going to impose those same measures on us.On me. This surveillance, the bodyguards—it might have all started because of the threat I faced from that masked man, but it’s just the beginning. Vishnu won’t stop here. He’ll want to control every aspect of our lives. Where we go, who we see, what we do. All in the name of ‘protection.’

However, I’m not sure if an independent woman like me, who has always lived her life freely and on her terms, can live like that for long.

CHAPTER 9

VISHNU

The door clicks shut behind Simran, and I step out from the shadows of the other room, my body vibrating with barely contained rage. Every fibre of my being screams at me to storm after her, to confront her, to demand answers for the months—no, years—she’s stolen from me. But I clench my fists, my nails biting into my palms tightly as I force myself to stay put.

I’m a man accustomed to control, to wielding power, to bending the world to my will. But now? I feel like a raging fire, seething just underneath the surface, and Simran is that one spark I can’t afford to ignite.

When I saw Simran lock horns with Abhay today over the fortress of security I’ve erected around her, I almost stepped in to intervene. I wanted to make her understand that these measures aren’t a cage, but a shield. The only thing that held me back was the intense fury still blazing in my veins.

I can’t bear to hear her excuses… to meet those eyes that have lied to me for so long. I can’t even stand to look at her without feeling the urge to vent my frustration. And I refuse to let her witness that primal, savage side of me that I’ve kept locked away behind walls I’ve spent a lifetime building. I won’t let her deceit be the key that unleashes that beast.

Although I know I would never hurt Simran in any way, I don’t trust the wounded father in me to hear her out patiently. So, I chose to put a momentary distance between us, for both my sanity and her safety from my wrath.

Abhay landed in New York last night, and I quickly briefed him on Simran’s security protocols and what I expected from him and the team. He took on the task without asking a single question about who Simran was or what she meant to me. I wasn’t in the right frame of mind to offer any explanations, either. Our conversation was strictly about the threat—one that now felt more real than ever, as we had gathered solid evidence that morning confirming someone was indeed targeting Simran and plotting this for quite some time. She still had no idea of the full extent of the danger she was in.

As soon as Simran leaves, I turn to the team gathered here in this apartment with Abhay and brief them on what needs to be done. Once I’m confident they understand their roles, I nod to Abhay, and we move out to the balcony for some privacy. Inside, the hum of activity begins, and I know this operation is in good hands. But that does little to quiet the storm brewing inside me.

The cool, morning air of New York hits my face as I step outside, the sprawling cityscape stretching out endlessly before us. I pull out a cigarette, lighting it with practiced ease. I take the first drag, and it immediately helps calm my frayed nerves, if only for a moment.

Abhay leans against the railing, watching the skyline before turning his gaze towards me.

“She doesn’t look too happy or grateful for these measures you’re taking for her safety,” Abhay mentions, his voice gruff but not unkind. “But if you’re still doing this for her, despite her resistance, she definitely means something more to you than most.”

I take another long drag, letting the smoke drift into the morning air before I respond, “Simran… she’s the mother of my child.”

I finally let it out. Abhay stiffens beside me, his shock almost palpable. I meet his gaze and nod, confirming what I’ve just said.

“I only found out yesterday,” I continue, the words tasting bitter on my tongue. “She kept my ten-month-old son from me all this time.”

Abhay shakes his head, a dismissive look crossing his face. “Women are complicated,” he says, as if that explains everything. “And this one seems troublesome too. What are you going to do afterwards? When all this is over?”

I’m silent for a moment, my gaze fixed on the city skyline. Anger, hurt, and betrayal swirl within me, warring with the undeniable feelings I still have for Simran and the fierce protectiveness that I now have for a son I’ve barely met.

“She’s not going anywhere. I’ll make sure of that,” I finally declare. “We’re going to raise our son together, whether she likes it not.”

Abhay nods, accepting my decision without question. It’s one of the things I appreciate about him—his unwavering loyalty and lack of judgement.