To Where It All Began ✔

3. The One Who Saves Her...

2:00 PM, 8th March, NH 48 Bangalore-Belgaum

Amna started regaining consciousness and found herself lying on the car backseat, "Where am I?" Her eyes opened lazily not being able to tolerate the bright light coming from the car's window.

She tried not to alert the driver and carefully moved near the window, lifting her head to see outside. Though her vision was not clear, she could see the road sign of NH 48 faintly.

After around 20 minutes the car stopped near a deserted old factory in a secluded corner with no sign of life around it. Even though she was awake, she pretended to be still unconscious as the man carried her into the place. She opened her eyes slightly without letting the kidnapper know and tried to look around her surroundings.

The man threw her on the ground and tied her hands and feet with a rope tightly. Seeing her still sleeping, he locked the main entrance of the area and went out.

After a few minutes of hearing the sound of the main door getting locked, she slowly opened her eyes, but still, everything was blurred to her as the sedative effect had still not gone, "I need to find a way to get out of here." It was broad daylight outside but in that confined place, it was all dark and dingy with faint sunlight coming from some broken glass pane of the small windowpanes.

3:00 PM, 8th March, Mhatre Niwas, Mumbai

The magnificent and spectacular Mhatre Niwas was located in the posh locality in the city of Mumbai where the day started with the imperative voice of Anant Mhatre who ruled the house with an iron fist. It was accompanied by the highly manipulative one of his very dear second wife Aruna Mhatre who never left a chance to turn things in her favor. Memorial Charity Function was being held by the whole Mhatre Family in memory of Anna with lots of guests.

The sound of the guests with the clitter-clatter of the glasses rattled the half-conscious-half insomniac individual of the house and he got out of his bed with an utterly irritated look. Extending his hand towards the half-filled bottle of scotch placed near his side table, he rotated his eyes around the darkroom in which he had kept himself confined since the time he was back from the graveyard. The room he was in was not his, it was a guest room and the unknown atmosphere was just adding more to his discomfort.

Opening the door of the room and trying to adjust his eyes to bright light, he ploded down the staircase with heavy steps. His eyes caught a  glimpse of his parents clinging wine glasses with the guests and he instantly darted his bloodshot black sore eyes at them with disgust. He traversed those deadly eyes around the hall and noticed the facial expressions of all the people who were present there.

"Anna! Anna!", he groaned in his deep and sharp-pitched voice dangerous enough to slaughter anyone before him. The proprietor of this intense powerful voice that had successfully caught the attention of many people in the hall was Shreekant Mhatre, the eldest son of Anant Mhatre.

Last year he appeared on the Forbes list of most influential businessmen under thirty. This name had appeared in multiple magazines and TV channels but he preferred and always tried to maintain a low profile despite being from such an affluent family. 

But this devilish media never failed to create troubles for him, from his love marriage to a Christian woman, Anna Walter to creating his indulgence in non-existent scandals and affairs, they always gave him all the unwanted attention he never needed, the most recent was blaming him for his wife's suicide. They loved peeping into his private life, which now for him had become non-existent.

Once considered an epitome of good looks and he was now in an unimaginably terrible state. He was wearing the same clothes as yesterday and was reeking alcohol. His eyes were sore both from insomnia and crying. Rough hair and crumpled shirt had taken away all the elegance that once his body dripped with.