UNKNOWN TO HER (Ongoing)

PART 7

A week had passed, and Riddhima's attempts to escape the mansion were in vain; Vansh made sure she remained confined. Ishani, her arms loaded with shopping bags, scoffed as she nearly tossed one at Riddhima's face.
"Enjoy your...less than joyous married life," she sneered before sauntering away with haughty pride. Sia, on the other hand, shook her head, trying to mediate, "Bhabhi, don't mind her. She's just seeking attention."

Dadi, while genuinely glad for Vansh, couldn't help but feel sympathy for Riddhima. She sensed the sweetness beneath Riddhima's forced smile, her pain evident to the observant elder. Vansh's fingers danced across the piano keys until Angre entered, bearing a significant update.

 "Boss, we've found someone claiming to know the man in the photo, but he's...well, quite elderly," Angre informed him, concern etched on his face.

Vansh ceased playing, his interest piqued.
"Thank you, Angre," he acknowledged, beckoning the man inside.

An emaciated old man, clad in tattered clothes and with disheveled hair, was helped into the mansion. His frail frame and trembling limbs suggested a life of hardship. Toothless, his quivering lips and wrinkled skin spoke of his advancing years and fragility. Vansh initially mistook him for the man's grandfather.

"Is he your grandson?" Vansh asked, rising to offer assistance. He dismissed the servants, leaving only Angre and himself in the room.

"Grandson? He was my...master," the old man rasped, his breaths deep and labored.

"Do you know this man?" Vansh gently asked, examining the photograph.

The old man's gaze locked onto the picture, and he began to weep. "Ridan...sahab," he whispered, his eyes brimming with tears.

"Ridan...indeed intriguing," Vansh mused, listening intently.

Despite his physical weakness, the old man's memory was razor-sharp.

"I betrayed him...him and his family," he admitted remorsefully.

Vansh grew restless. "Where can I find him?"

"He's...no more," the old man replied, his voice quavering.

"When? How did he die?" Vansh pressed, his patience waning.

"Twenty-five years ago."

"Grandfather, I'm not interested in when he was born. I need to know when he died," Vansh said, on the verge of losing his temper. Angre intervened, urging patience.

"Let the man speak, boss," Angre reminded him.
"I betrayed him...I poisoned his child," the old man confessed, tears streaming down his face. The weight of his guilt seemed unbearable.

Vansh retreated, attempting to connect the dots. "Have you seen her?"

"Hema...Hema saheb's wife," the old man sobbed.

"Did they have a...daughter?" Vansh inquired.

"Hmm...they named their daughter...Ridan...Hema."

"Riddhima," Vansh whispered, aghast. Riddhima was the old man's granddaughter!

The old man chuckled through his tears. "I killed the baby...by poisoning her."

"Your name?"

"Mukund...but why do you ask?"

Before Vansh could respond, Mukund collapsed. Vansh gestured for Angre to tend to him, then held the locket in his hand.
"Ridan...Hema," he muttered, now realizing Riddhima bore an uncanny resemblance to her mother. He regretted suspecting Riddhima in the first place.

"Boss, does this mean that Riddhima..." Angre was cut in between,

"Is innocent. She's not a liar," Vansh confirmed, turning his gaze to Riddhima, who was lighting a lamp and praying devoutly.
"We still don't have the full truth, Angre. We need to understand why Riddhima was poisoned so long ago."

"She's 25 years old, boss. I found her resume. Does that mean..."

"Mukund attempted to kill her when she was born. He thinks Riddhima is dead, but we know she's not. Angre, ensure Mukund never sees Riddhima," Vansh instructed, still grappling with his misjudgment.

The old man's revelation only added another layer to the mystery. But one fact stood clear:"Riddhima needs our protection."