Darsh paced the room as the night passed by, each moment trickling like a drop of salt on an open wound. All cards were open now, nobody had anything to hide. Dalpat Raisingh had played his shameless hand, and Balwant Sharma had accepted his cunning trick. His Ma, although blameless, had owned her guilt and Aditi's love shone in her wordless support.

Only he could not come to terms with it. It felt like he was being re-invented from within. Something churned inside, turning his body inside out. The beautiful, beguiling exterior was gone and the hideous flesh and gore was on display for everyone to ogle at. All thanks to his birth father. He had come out of this, unashamed and unscathed, while Darsh had nowhere to hide his filth.

He let out a frazzled breath. How would it be to take the name of a man he abhorred so much? Darsh Dalpat Raisingh. The name had a nice ring to it. It would prove he too came from the same stock as his wife; that he too had the golden blood, the genes he had craved for all his life. Those who laughed at him and called him a bastard will finally know who he was. And yet it felt like the ultimate revenge. Fate had played a dirty trick, and in such a twisted way, he could not help but marvel at its cruelty.

He would be the son of a rapist. The thick folder he kept on Dalpat Raisingh would be his legacy. The insanity, the perverseness, and total lack of morals - that would be his real inheritance. People would hate him. All his good deeds for the past three years would come to nothing. He would be just the next Raisingh in line - the one destined to carry forward the ghastly legacy.

His heart burned as he sat on the sofa stuffing his face in his palms. At the door, Aditi cleared her throat.

"I... just wanted to check if you need anything." She looked worried as she stepped in. It was still an hour before the sunrise. The birds had begun chirping but the house was still in its early hours of slumber. "You didn't sleep the whole night. Are you...okay?"

She came closer and touched his arm. He noticed her puffy, sleepless eyes. Masses of dark hair tumbled over her shoulders. The air was chilly, and through her cotton dress, he could see tiny goosebumps prickling her soft skin. His heart ached with yearning. If it was some other day, he would have pulled her in his arms, kissed her insanely, and made love as if there was no tomorrow. If there was one thing true about their relationship, it was that he found solace in her. But tonight, something was different. He could not do it. He didn’t know if what he felt was love or lust, if at this moment he was just Darsh Rathore or Darsh Dalpat Raisingh.

Her grief was alluring. Arousing. Maybe this was how Dalpat Raisingh felt when he looked at his helpless mother.

A shiver of disgust rippled his heart. He stiffened and took a step back. "I am fine. Did you need anything? I want to stay alone for a while.”

She looked taken aback. “I just wanted to see if you are alright. I know how you must be feeling at this moment… ”

Oh, did she? His face twisted in a sarcastic smile. Did she think she could fathom what he was going through? She, the legitimate Sharma heiress, who was brought up in the cozy cocoon of her family name and riches, what would she know about his illegitimate legacy? He was the bastard here; he was the one with compromised credentials. She, on the other hand, was as good as they could get.

A bolt of jealous burning shot through his heart. His fists rolled as his face set in a cold, hard mask.

"I said please leave me alone Aditi. I'll sign those adoption papers. I know that's what's expected of me, but for now, just leave me alone."

Her face fell. Her eyes lost their hope that he hadn’t realized was there in the first place. She looked guilt-ridden, ashamed, which pleased him. He was being wronged, and she knew it. That gave him power over her.

"I was going to say... you don't have to do it. It's okay if Grandpa Raisingh pursues the case. We'll find some way. And if nothing works and we do end up in prison...", her face took a grey pallor, "I'll ask for Sonal's help. We can make her and Rohit the legal guardians. Gaurav will help too. It's only a matter of a few years. We will manage."

So she had given this a thought. She was willing to go to prison so he could keep his self-respect. Darsh laughed. Either way, she had nothing to lose as all she wanted was for him to be happy. And either way, he was the loser. Whatever he did, he would end up miserable.

"Thanks for the offer, but no thanks." His voice was strangely formal. "I won't let you suffer on my account. Your Dadaji chose me for this day. So let me now do my duty."

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

She looked pained.

"Please. Dadaji did not choose you because you were a Raisingh. He chose you because I loved you. Had I loved anyone else, he would have..."

Before she finished her sentence, he pushed the door shut. He did not like her tears nor did he want to weep in front of her. Alright, no one was at fault. Neither Dadaji nor Aditi. Nor his mother, who had foolishly gone and got herself raped and then decided to bring him to this world just to prove a point. No one was at fault but him. He was the one making a mountain out of a molehill.

Hours passed as he seethed, bitterness burning holes in his already tattered pride. Finally, he got up and dialed a number. There was one last thing he could try. Not that it could mend what was already broken, but it was worth a shot. If the game was between two Raisinghs, he could stoop as low as he wanted.

“Steve. I have a job for you.” He barked into the phone as soon as Steve answered it. The man mercifully stayed quiet as Darsh listed his requirements. “I am emailing you an affidavit. Find Vivaan Raisingh and get him to sign it. Do whatever you want, use whoever you want. Beat him to a pulp if that’s what it takes. You have three hours.”

*****

A few miles from the Sharma Residence, on a cool terrace overshadowed by a two-hundred-year-old Banyan tree, Dalpat Raising sat on his favorite swing, savoring his morning tea. It was just past breakfast and a cool breeze flew over the mountains directly into his face, bringing with it the scent of fertile soil. He inhaled and closed his eyes, a familiar thrill filling his body.

Ahem! He was surprised this place still had that effect on him - the effect he had experienced at the tender age of twelve, and had shaped his life afterward.

“So what are you going to do about them?”

A shrill, agitated voice burst his bubble of sublime serenity. Irritated, Dalpat opened his eyes.

“About whom?”

“About Darsh!” Mansi shrieked. “And Aditi, and of course Balwant and Ravi Sharma. I have been ousted from my home and have nowhere to go. Both my children are suffering. What are you going to do about it?”

He tusked. What was he supposed to do about it? The woman had absurd notions of loyalty. There was nothing legitimate about their relationship, yet she felt let down as if he owed her some husbandly fealty. She was stupid but then he liked his women stupid or how would he be able to use them?

“I already told you," he cajoled her. "I am adopting Darsh. And he has agreed. So, there is no more to be done about it.”

He closed his eyes again but knew she was watching him with naked hatred. She hadn’t taken the news of Darsh’s paternity lightly. She felt betrayed. Dalpat laughed inwardly. Did the woman think she was the only one he was fu**ing? In those days, when he was in his prime, there had been many. He could not even remember them now, maybe Darsh’s folder had all the details. It was his hobby, his one true passion. When you are born wealthy and there’s nothing more to achieve you must while your time away doing something. For some like Ravi, it was gambling. For some like Balwant, it was philanthropy. For Dalpat, it had been his women. Hunt them, use them, discard them, and move forward – that had been his motto. He lived his life by his rules. Mansi had no right to object to it.

His face filled with disdain. He knew why she was miffed. He had released Nehal from lock-up but hadn't extended the same curtsey to Mohit. In his defense, he had two reasons - a) Nehal was his own blood and b) It was nice to have two women pandering to him rather than one. The boy was just trouble. He was best left to rot in the cell.

He opened one wrinkled eye and saw Mansi staring at him outraged. Sighing, he opened his other eye.

“Don’t worry about Mohit. They don’t have enough proof against him. He will be freed eventually.”

“They have enough proof to keep him there for years! And Darsh would not let it drop just because you don’t pursue your case. I want him to withdraw the charges against Mohit. I know you can do it. He will do it if you ask him.”

And why would he do that? Dalpat rolled his amused eyes. For some reason, he knew all was not over yet. Darsh was his own blood. He must have something up his sleeves. On one side Dalpat was immensely proud. On the other side, just a little tired. He wished he didn’t have to go through all this at this age. Already Vivaan’s accident had nearly taken the life out of him. Now to lock horns with Darsh wore him out. If only Darsh was his legitimate son, it would not have come to this. He would be at the Sharma residence now, enjoying the perks of being a legitimate father. For some reason, the word startled him. He was as much an illegitimate father as his illegitimate children. Only he had sailed through his life without ever realizing it.

“Are you listening?” Mansi shrieked, again breaking his reverie. He gritted his teeth. “I said, ask your bastard to release Mohit. You owe it to me. I have served you for years, faithfully. I have loved you when no one else would. You have to make it up to me or...I'll go to the papers.”

The penny dropped as he stiffened. The woman was forgetting her place. She needed to be taught a lesson. And that was his specialty.

“All in good time, sweetheart.” A cruel smirk played on his lips as he got up from the swing. His eyes went over her body. She was still desirable. Well as desirable as she could be in this situation, with no other female in sight. Luckily Nehal was in her room, or he would have much preferred her to this saggy bag of flesh.

Sighing, he held her by her arm and dragged her in. Walking to the bed he pulled off his dressing robes, and then his silk shorts revealing his shriveled manhood.

"What on earth..." She fell silent as she realized what he was going to ask. He could not quite get her expression. Neither did he care.

“I’ll do everything you want. But first, you must do your bit. Serve me, faithfully and lovingly, as you have always done. Then I’ll see.”

An evil grin spread his face as she stumbled forward and went down to her knees. He closed his eyes in anticipation of what was to come when his legs jerked. He fell backward hitting his head on something hard and his vision went dark.

***** *****