Second Chance: A Dark Tale of Urban India-Chapter 71: Back To Hospital—Wrongly Accused

Rohit jolted awake in panic, his chest heaving. The last image of losing his wife burned in his mind like a fresh scar. But the battlefield had vanished. He was in a hospital bed. He was no longer the mercenary Riku but rather a high schooler.

His blurred vision focused on a grim scene: a doctor frozen in place, his neck trapped in Rohit’s grip, scissors clutched threateningly in Rohit’s hand. The man was the same fraud doctor with whom he once colluded and now he wheezed, choking for air.

Rohit’s voice came out low but furious. "The fuck are you doing here?"

Then a familiar voice broke through, steady and grounding. "Young master, please, be at ease. Everything is alright." It was Balwindar.

Rohit turned and realized he truly was in a hospital room. The clock on the wall showed 12:30 noon.

Outside, police were being held back by his bodyguard Chanu. Several others stood nearby, but what caught Rohit’s attention most was Ragini. She sat at his bedside, head resting against his thigh, still in the same dress stained with blood. Exhaustion had overtaken her, but when she stirred awake, her eyes welled with tears.

"Rohit... you’re finally awake." She threw herself into his arms, hugging him tightly.

For the first time, a calm washed over Rohit. His adoptive mother, who had always been distant for so long, was now holding him like the woman he had longed for. Deep down, he was simply relieved she was safe and unharmed.

But then he felt it: a gaze burning into him.

Turning to his left, he saw Aria, his second sister. Her eyes glared with unmasked hatred, as if she were barely restraining the urge to strangle him with her own hands.

Rohit calmed himself as he realized the troubling flashes in his mind were nothing more than dreams, fragments of the past resurfacing. But the past was behind him now. Here, he reminded himself, the faces were familiar.

Hugging Ragini, he felt a warmth that eased his nerves.

Apart from the piercing gaze of his so-called sister, there was another presence in the room: someone sulking quietly in the corner. The doctor.

His disappointment in Rohit was obvious. Clearing his throat, he asked cautiously, "So, how is the patient faring?"

Rohit winced and scratched his cheek, embarrassed. He didn’t want to displease his partner-in-crime. "Ah... I’m sorry, doc, for the way I behaved earlier. And thanks. I’m good, except..."

He glanced at his left hand. The stitches and half-finished bandage caught his eye.

The doctor raised a brow. "Good. It seems you’re carrying some PTSD from that incident. As for your wounds, they’re nothing major—a shallow cut on the palm, deeper on the arm. Still," he leaned back with mild irritation, "I’m amazed how you managed to injure yourself again in just three days."

Rohit shrugged, which earned him a sharper tone. "Now let me complete the bandage. It needs to be replaced on time, which you interrupted."

He let the doctor work. When the man leaned too close, Rohit muttered under his breath, "Thanks... but don’t forget, I still have the video."

The doctor smirked, unfazed, and carried on. Once finished, he turned to Ragini. "If you don’t mind, Mrs. Singhania, I’d like to consult you privately in my chamber about his physical condition and mental health."

Ragini hesitated but nodded. She had her own concerns to share. Rohit, however, quickly cut in. "Is that really necessary, doc? I think I’m fine with how I’m treated." His eyes warned the man not to overstep their closeness.

The doctor smiled and gestured for him to trust him.

Rohit held back a frown. His instincts whispered something was off. "Alright, doctor. But I’ll need your phone number in case I have to consult you again."

Rohit accepted the card, his eyes narrowing. Now let’s see what you’re really planning.

With that, Ragini left with the doctor.

Just then, a uniformed officer standing outside the door blocked her. "Madam, please allow us to interrogate. We’ve been waiting too long. He seems fine now."

Moments later, Balwinder, Rohit’s trusted guard, leaned in close. "Young master, we twisted the story while you were down. Chanu has taken the blame to avoid legal damage. Please stay watchful."

Rohit nodded. He remembered the state he had left those thugs in on the street. If his bodyguards had shielded him by taking the blame, the police questioning ahead would be tricky to navigate.

Ragini tried to delay them, but seeing no excuse left, she finally allowed it. The officer informed her that the DCP herself would arrive shortly.

From Rohit’s old memories, he knew DCP stood for Deputy Commissioner of Police, second only to the Commissioner who oversaw the entire city, not just a district. Suddenly the stakes rose much higher.

Ragini shot Rohit a worried look. He met her gaze and gave the faintest nod.

The doctor, smirking from the corner, called softly, "Madam, we should leave." She went with him.

It hadn’t been ten seconds when another figure stepped into the room, taking Rohit completely by surprise. Her timing suggested she had been close by, perhaps waiting for the moment.

It was the DCP, and she was nothing like what Rohit had pictured.

A tall, striking woman in uniform, her presence radiated authority. The name tag read ’Divyani Chauhan.’ Behind her, the earlier officer stood at attention.

Rohit never had a good impression of the police, least of all the Indian police. But this woman was different.

From her looks she seemed in her mid-thirties, posture sharp and disciplined, eyes keen and unyielding. No cosmetics, no false gloss, yet she carried a natural feminine allure that blended seamlessly with her authority.

Rohit’s gaze betrayed him. Her uniform, tightly fitted, traced curves that no male eye could easily ignore. Her long legs, her defined waist, even the faint sway of her stride painted a contrast of officer and woman, authority wrapped around temptation. His lewd thoughts stirred before he caught himself.

Divyani, as though used to it, let him gawk for a moment before clearing her throat to pull him back to reality.

"Rohit Singhania. Son of Raj Singhania. Heard you’ve been making news, but I didn’t expect to find you here." She sat down smoothly in the same chair Ragini had vacated.

Rohit straightened up, puzzled. "Excuse me?"

Divyani raised an eyebrow. "It seems you aren’t aware of anything."

Crossing her legs, she added, "But before that—the reason I’m here: the people killed were wanted criminals. I was investigating sex trafficking, and somehow your case got linked to mine. Let me explain."

She pulled out her phone and tilted the screen toward him. On it flashed articles announcing a new partnership. Chambanis were joining hands with the Singhanias as major local partners in an upcoming project. Another headline boasted of the chess match Rohit had won, which conveniently boosted the Singhanias’ stake in those ventures.

She scrolled further. Another splash of news: the Singhania matriarch, his grandmother, announcing a grand banquet in honor of her grandson, making him the talk of the country.

Then came a viral clip: footage of Rohit helping a pedestrian during the train accident. Public reactions glowed, painting him as a young hero.

Rohit’s mouth went dry. He sat stunned, realizing his life choices had rippled into the world outside, one after another, creating havoc he hadn’t even been aware of.

Divyani caught his expression and allowed herself an amused smile. But she didn’t let him drift too far. She leaned in, voice sharp. "And then came the latest report: your mishap. Some lowlifes tried to kidnap you, and in the scuffle, your bodyguard killed them. What an irony."

Rohit’s face hardened. He knew every word, every flicker of expression would be weighed against him. He had no idea what story his guards had spun, only that their licenses gave them legal cover to kill if necessary. Still, the repercussions could turn deadly if he slipped up.

So he acted. A pained look crossed his face as if struggling to recall.

Chanu immediately cut in. "Ma’am, please refrain from pressing the young master too much. He’s still recuperating."

But Divyani silenced her with a raised hand, never taking her eyes off Rohit.

"My bad," she said with a teasing smile. "But still, it’s hard to believe. Making headlines in one breath, hospitalized the next. Quite the rhythm, isn’t it?"

Rohit frowned. "Sorry?"

Divyani leaned closer, brushing his cheek lightly with her fingers. Her smile was playful, but her eyes were anything but. "So innocent. You know what I thought at first, young master? That maybe you and your mother were targeted out of jealousy or spite. I almost sympathized. But guess what our investigation uncovered?"

Rohit’s jaw clenched, but he gave her nothing.

She continued, her voice flattening into something cold. "Those men were illegal slum dwellers. The two bodies were both on our wanted list, linked to trafficking, smuggling, and underhanded dealings. We’ve been tracking their network for months. And all leads point toward high-profile backers funding them."

Rohit feigned confusion and asked with deliberate hesitation, "So what exactly are you implying?"

Divyani smirked, her tone shifting from playful to surgical. "For now, nothing is publicly obvious. But our preliminary investigation suggests your family may have financed and used those men to make backhand connections with escort services to cozy up to the Chambanis. When the deal soured over payment, those men were disposed of quietly."

She tapped her phone. "We’re already tracing suspicious bank transfers and phone records."

Rohit blinked, stunned at the sheer audacity of her reasoning. "That’s your conclusion?"

Divyani didn’t flinch. She locked eyes with him, her gaze steady. "Your guard’s testimony doesn’t add up. Yes, you were injured, but why would traffickers approach a guarded heir head-on? Why the gruesome beating before the bullets? And some of your company officials are already showing up in their call logs. We’ll be questioning them soon."

Rohit’s patience cracked. The accusation was absurd. Maybe some crooked executive had dealings with the thugs, but how could she pin responsibility on him?

He leaned forward, lifting his bandaged hand."I don’t remember much. But this much is certain—I was attacked. These stitches didn’t appear on their own."

His voice hardened."Your job is to uncover the truth, officer. Not dress speculation up as investigation. And right now, that’s exactly what this sounds like."

The room froze for a moment.

Divyani stared at him, her expression unreadable, before murmuring, "Sharp. Unbroken. Witty."

Rohit frowned again. "What?"

But she stood, satisfied. Adjusting her cap, she said evenly, "See, Rohit... you remind me of my nephew. Personally, I admire your courage—fighting for your mother is noble. But duty forbids me from thinking sentimentally. I hope your case is as clean as it appears. Otherwise..." her gaze hardened, "...things will get ugly."

She turned to leave, then paused. "Your mother asked that the family name be kept out of the press for the time being. We’ll oblige — temporarily. Don’t forget: the investigation will run its course. When new leads appear, I expect full cooperation."

Rohit finally gave a slow nod. For once she made sense. Yet his disappointment in the Indian police only deepened.

Divyani placed her card on the side of his bed. "My number. Use it when required." Then she left, Chanu trailing behind her.

Rohit exhaled as tension drained from him for the first time. He looked to his guard in the corner. "My belongings?"

Balwinder nodded. "All secure, young master."

Just then Arya’s phone rang. She picked it up, her face brightening. "Yes, Dad? Really? You’re coming?" Her voice rose in excitement.

For Rohit, it felt like a bomb had dropped. The thought of his father returning was the one variable he hadn’t planned for. It threatened to shatter all the careful threads he was weaving with Ragini.