THE LIBERATION

Tracy stared at the screen. The face of Stella glared back at her, cold and calculating. Stella looked grotesque—her once jet-black hair now matted and streaked with dried blood-red trails. Her nose, once pristine and angular, bore a metallic abnormality protruding unnaturally. Despite the disfigurement, Stella's voice carried an unsettling calm.

"What's the matter, Tracy?" Stella asked, her tone sharp and mocking. "You look pale. Disgusting, even."

Tracy's hands trembled as she pulled out a stack of papers from the desk drawer and held them up. Her voice was barely above a whisper. "These… these are the property papers." She placed them on the table between them.

Stella leaned forward, her eyes narrowing as she read. "The company goes to you, and the house is mine?" Her voice grew icy. For a moment, the room felt suffocating.

Tracy nodded. "That's what Father decided."

Stella's lips curled into a bitter smile. "Of course, he'd give you the company. You're the golden child, the talented one. But fine," she said, her voice softening as if she had decided to let the matter rest. "This isn't the time to argue. You're stuck with the debts anyway."

Tracy's heart sank further. The weight of the situation pressed down on her like an iron hand. Stella's next words, however, caught her off guard.

"You can stay here until the debts are cleared," Stella said coolly. "But don't get too comfortable. Once everything is settled, you're on your own."

Tracy looked up, surprised. Stella hated her; that much was clear. Yet, in some hidden corner of her heart, Stella's love for her younger sister still flickered faintly, buried beneath layers of jealousy and resentment. Despite everything, she had made a small concession. Tracy nodded silently, knowing she had no other choice.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, it painted the sky in hues of red and orange. The day's warmth faded into the cool embrace of twilight. Tracy descended the stairs of the office, her thoughts racing. Her father, Alexander, had been missing for 24 hours. She couldn't shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong.

Determined to find him, Tracy made her way to the coast. The salty breeze stung her face as she scanned the endless expanse of water. There were no signs of him, no trace of where he might have gone. She replayed their last conversation in her mind, searching for clues, but found none. The possibility of his death loomed over her, but without a body, she couldn't bring herself to believe it.

She sat by the shore until night fell, her tears mingling with the waves. The weight of grief and uncertainty crushed her spirit. On the distant shore, the faint sound of fishermen's songs floated across the water. It was a bittersweet melody, a contrast to her sorrow.

Meanwhile, on the coast of Goa, a group of fishermen hauled in their nets. They had been singing to keep their spirits high, but their chatter turned to murmurs of excitement when they felt something heavy caught in the net.

"It's a big one," one of them exclaimed.

Their excitement quickly turned to shock as they pulled the net ashore. Inside was not a fish, but a man—an older man, unconscious but alive. Blood matted the back of his head, and his breathing was shallow.

"What do we do?" one fisherman asked nervously. The sight of the injured man unsettled them, and none dared to act.

A middle-aged man stepped forward from the crowd. "I'll take him to the hospital," he said firmly. It was Arun Verma, Rudra's uncle and Alexander's brother.

They loaded the unconscious man onto a cart, and Arun rushed him to the nearest hospital. The doctor on duty examined Alexander, his expression grim but intrigued.

"It's a miracle he's alive," the doctor said. "From the injury, I estimate he's been in the water for 48 hours."

"How can you tell?" Arun asked, his voice filled with concern.

"The blood clot on the back of his head is nearly 48 hours old," the doctor explained. "It's remarkable that he survived this long. However, he appears to have temporary memory loss. We'll keep him under observation for 24 hours."

Arun's heart sank. Arun out of humanity had been estranged from for years was now fighting for his life. Guilt and determination coursed through him. He resolved to stay by Alexander's side until he recovered.

Back at home, Tracy wandered through her father's room, unable to sleep. The familiar scent of his coat caught her attention. She picked it up, hugging it tightly to her chest. As she did, a small slip of paper fluttered to the ground.

Frowning, she bent down to pick it up. The ink on the paper hadn't smudged, despite the moisture in the air. It was written with a special kind of alcohol-based ink, the kind used by archaeologists for underwater research.

Her hands trembled as she unfolded the note. The handwriting was unmistakably her father's. The words on the page sent a chill down her spine:

My Dear Tracy,

I am in a chaotic situation. Today, I lost again at the casino. This time, I gambled away one billion dollars. The company is gone, and I've brought shame upon our family. I know my addiction to alcohol and gambling has destroyed everything. You warned me, but I didn't listen. I want to end it all, but I don't have the courage.

There's something I need you to know. Our family's legacy lies in our craft—designer jewelry, textiles, and furniture. These talents are in your blood, Tracy. I'm sorry for placing this burden on you, but you are the only one who can rebuild what I've destroyed.

In my wardrobe, there's a secret compartment. The key is hidden in the cross pendant I always wear. The code to open the compartment is your mother's name. Inside, you'll find something that can help you clear the debts. I believe in you, Tracy. One day, I hope to return as a better man.

Yours lovingly,Dad.

Tracy's hands shook as she finished reading. Her father's words were a mixture of desperation and hope. She glanced toward the wardrobe—the same one her father had always forbidden her from opening.

Memories of her childhood flashed through her mind. She had once tried to peek inside the wardrobe, only to be caught and scolded harshly. Now, he was entrusting her with its secrets.

Her curiosity burned brighter than her fear. What could be inside? Was it enough to save the company? To clear the debts? And why had her father mentioned her mother's name as the key? So many questions swirled in her mind.

Outside, the night deepened. The silvery moon hung in the black sky, surrounded by twinkling stars that seemed to wink at her mischievously. Tracy stared out the window, finding a strange comfort in their dance.

"You're not alone," they seemed to whisper.

Steeling herself, she turned back to the wardrobe. Her father's words echoed in her mind: "The cross in my necklace is the key."

Tracy's journey was just beginning. With every step, she would uncover secrets that could either save her family or shatter what little remained of it. She would find her father's hidden truths and, perhaps, rebuild the legacy he had entrusted to her. But for now, the night stretched long, and her resolve grew stronger.

What secrets did the wardrobe hold? Would Tracy be able to overcome her father's mistakes? And how did Rudra and Aakash tie into this tangled web of family and betrayal? The answers waited in the shadows, ready to be unveiled.