Echoes in the Adoption File - Part 10

 

The Man Who Died Twice

Vikram Rao’s death was declared confirmed.

Closed-casket funeral. DNA match. Witness statements. Thirty-two floors, no survival.

And yet—

Three weeks into Anika’s custody, the doubts began.

It started with the autopsy report.

Cause of death: multiple blunt-force trauma.
But the time of death was listed as 23:41.

The fall occurred at 23:29.

Twelve minutes.

Anika noticed it immediately.

She slid the paper back through the slot to the guard. “This is wrong.”

He didn’t even look. “Everything’s wrong, miss. Get used to it.”

That night, the audio player activated on its own.

Anika sat up, heart racing.

Her father’s voice didn’t play.

A different one did.

Distorted.
Mechanical.

You pushed the wrong man.

The message ended.

The device went dead.

---

Leela felt it too.

From her hospital bed, she watched the news replay the same footage again and again—Vikram falling, Vikram dying, Vikram gone.

But she had learned long ago: men like him didn’t build empires without contingencies.

She called in every favor she had left.

Two nights later, she got a message.

Body switched post-impact. Emergency extraction confirmed.

Her blood ran cold.

---

In custody, Anika was taken for questioning by a new team.

Not police.

No badges.
No names.

A woman with steel-gray hair placed a single photo on the table.

A man in a hospital bed.
Bandaged.
Alive.

His face damaged—but unmistakable.

Vikram Rao.

“He survived,” the woman said. “Barely. And now he belongs to us.”

Anika laughed once. Sharp. Broken. “You think that scares me?”

The woman leaned forward. “No. But this will.”

She slid a second file forward.

SUBJECT: ANIKA RAO
STATUS: ASSET

“They’re cleaning up what Vikram left behind,” the woman continued. “We can either put you back in the ground… or aim you.”

Anika stared at the file.

“So this is the reward,” she said quietly. “Another cage.”

The woman smiled thinly. “No. A leash.”

Anika closed her eyes.

Her father’s words echoed.

Become the end.

She opened them again.

“What do you want?” she asked.

The woman stood. “One last job.”

---

Outside the facility, Leela received a single encrypted text.

They took her.

Leela shut her eyes.

“Of course they did,” she whispered.

In the distance, a storm gathered.

And somewhere—alive, hidden, furious—

Vikram Rao watched the world that had betrayed him burn slowly.

Echoes in the Adoption File - Part 9

 

The Fall That Didn’t End Him

Vikram Rao didn’t scream when Anika lunged.

He smiled.

At the last second, he stepped aside.

Anika’s momentum carried her forward—too far, too fast. She caught the railing with one hand, pain tearing through her shoulder as her body slammed hard against the steel. Thirty-two floors below, the city waited, indifferent.

Vikram grabbed her wrist.

Not to save her.

“To show you something,” he said, breathless now, human at last.

He pulled her back just enough so she wouldn’t fall.

“Look around,” he whispered. “This chaos? I built systems that survive chaos.”

Police lights flashed below. Helicopters hovered. The Rao empire was burning in public, yes—but Vikram Rao was still standing.

“You killed my mother,” Anika said, her voice hollow.

Vikram’s eyes flickered. “She chose death.”

That was it.

The last thread snapped.

Anika headbutted him.

Hard.

Vikram stumbled back, blood bursting from his nose. He recovered fast—too fast—and punched her square in the ribs. Pain exploded through her chest, but she stayed on her feet.

They fought like animals.

No elegance.
No speeches.
Just fists, breath, blood.

Anika bit him when he tried to choke her. He slammed her head into the concrete. Stars burst behind her eyes, but she didn’t stop.

“You think you’re justice?” Vikram snarled. “You’re just another weapon.”

“Maybe,” Anika gasped. “But weapons end wars.”

She drove her knee into his stomach. Vikram doubled over, coughing violently. She grabbed his collar and dragged him toward the edge.

For the first time, fear entered his eyes.

“You won’t,” he said. “You’re not like me.”

Anika looked down at the city.

At the lives already lost.
At her mother’s last smile.
At her father’s blood written into walls.

“No,” she said softly. “I’m worse.”

She pushed him.

Vikram Rao fell.

His scream cut through the night until it didn’t.

The impact was distant. Final.

Anika stood at the edge, shaking—not from regret, but from the sudden silence inside her.

Minutes later, hands grabbed her from behind.

Police.

Guns.
Shouting.
Orders.

She didn’t resist.

As they dragged her away, a senior officer leaned close and whispered, “You think this makes you free?”

Anika met his eyes.

“No,” she said. “It makes me finished.”

---

Three days later, the world changed.

Governments fell.
Accounts were frozen.
Names vanished overnight.

The Rao empire collapsed like a rotten spine.

Leela survived—but barely. A bullet grazed her spine. She would never field-operate again.

She visited Anika once.

Through thick glass.

“You did it,” Leela said quietly.

Anika stared at the floor. “I lost everything.”

Leela nodded. “That’s the price.”

As Leela stood to leave, she hesitated. “There’s something you should know.”

Anika looked up.

“Your father,” Leela continued, “knew he would die. He recorded everything. Gave us time to prepare.” Her voice softened. “He didn’t fail, Anika.”

She slid a small audio player through the slot.

“He planned for you to survive.”

That night, alone in her cell, Anika pressed play.

Her father’s voice filled the room.

If you’re hearing this, it means I’m gone. And you’re alive. That’s enough.

Tears slid silently down her face.

Do not become me. Do not become them. Become the end.

Anika closed her eyes.

For the first time since the cupboard.
Since the blood.
Since the lies—

She slept.

Echoes in the Adoption File - Part 8

 

The Choice That Breaks Gods

The location Vikram sent was not secret.

That was the point.

A public place. Floodlights. Cameras. An unfinished high-rise on the edge of the city—glass, steel, and open sky. A place where screams could disappear into traffic noise.

Anika arrived alone.

No weapons visible.
No Leela.
No backup.

Vikram stood at the edge of the thirty-second floor, city lights burning behind him like a crown. He looked thinner. Older. But his eyes—those were unchanged.

In front of him were two large screens.

On the first:
Her mother, strapped to a hospital bed, IV lines snaking into her arms. A heart monitor beeped steadily.

On the second:
A live press conference.

Journalists. Cameras. Microphones.

Leela stood at the podium.

Behind her, projected onto a massive screen, was the Rao empire laid bare—documents, transactions, faces. Everything Arjun Rao had died for.

Vikram smiled.

“You see,” he said softly, “this is where your father failed. He thought truth was enough.”

Anika’s voice was ice. “What do you want?”

Vikram held up a small remote.

“One button,” he said. “Two outcomes.”

He pointed to the first screen. “Your mother lives. Quietly. Hidden. But Leela dies tonight. The evidence vanishes. The Rao empire survives—wounded, but alive.”

Then the second. “You let the truth go public. My empire burns. Politicians fall. Wars lose funding.”

He leaned closer. “And your mother’s heart monitor flatlines.”

Anika’s breath came shallow.

“You trained me to survive,” Vikram continued. “Your mother trained you to love. Which lesson wins?”

On the screen, her mother stirred. Her eyes opened.

And she spoke.

“Anika,” she whispered, her voice weak but clear. “Listen to me.”

Vikram frowned. “I told you not to—”

“I watched your father die,” her mother said. “I lived because others didn’t.” Her eyes filled with tears. “If you save me by letting this continue… then everything he stood for dies with me.”

Anika shook her head violently. “No. I won’t choose.”

Vikram’s finger hovered over the button.

“You already have.”

The countdown began.

10

Anika’s mind screamed for a third option.
A miracle.
A loophole.

8

Leela’s voice echoed through the screen. “If anyone can hear this—remember the name Arjun Rao. Remember what silence costs.”

6

Her mother smiled faintly. Proud. Peaceful.

“I am not afraid anymore,” she said.

4

Anika stepped forward.

Tears streamed down her face—not weakness, but mourning.

“I love you,” she whispered.

2

She looked Vikram straight in the eyes.

And made her choice.

She grabbed the remote—

—and smashed it against the concrete floor.

The screens went black.

For one terrible second, there was only silence.

Then—

Phones across the city exploded with alerts.

BREAKING NEWS
MAJOR CORRUPTION SCANDAL EXPOSED
RAO GROUP UNDER INVESTIGATION

Vikram staggered back, disbelief cracking his mask.

“No,” he whispered. “You chose chaos.”

Anika’s phone buzzed.

A final message.

From her mother.

You chose the right future.

The heart monitor tone went flat.

Anika screamed.

Not like a child.

Like a weapon breaking.

Vikram laughed—until Anika stepped toward him, eyes empty now.

“You took everything,” she said quietly. “Now you’ll watch it die.”

Below them, sirens wailed. Helicopters circled. The world was waking up.

Vikram backed away, suddenly afraid.

“You think this ends with me?” he spat. “People like us don’t die. We echo.”

Anika smiled through tears.

“So do ghosts.”

She lunged.

Echoes in the Adoption File - Part 7

 

The Death That Set Her Free

Anika died at 3:17 a.m.

At least, that’s what the news reported.

A burned-out car was found at the edge of the river, twisted metal still smoking, a body inside so charred it couldn’t be identified. Dental records were inconclusive. The name released to the media was Anika Rao.

Vikram watched the footage in silence.

Too silent.

“She was smarter than this,” he murmured.

But the world believed it. Candles were lit. Social media mourned. A monster was declared dead, and the system exhaled in relief.

In an underground safehouse miles away, Anika watched herself die on a cracked television screen.

Leela switched it off. “Congratulations,” she said flatly. “You’re officially erased.”

Anika didn’t smile.

Her mother lay in the next room, sedated, hidden under a new identity. Alive—but fragile. Every breath she took was borrowed time.

“What now?” Anika asked.

Leela slid a folder across the table.

Inside were photographs.

Men in suits shaking hands with men holding rifles.
Containers marked medical aid filled with weapons.
Children’s shelters doubling as recruitment camps.

Stamped across every page was the same symbol.

A stylized R.

“The Rao empire doesn’t just kill,” Leela said. “It feeds on silence. On distance. On people who think this is someone else’s problem.”

Anika flipped the final page.

A name stared back at her.

Dr. Sameer Kulkarni
Humanitarian.
Whistleblower advocate.
Secret Rao financier.

“He launders money through relief funds,” Leela continued. “Testifies in court. Wins awards. Sleeps well.”

Anika closed the file.

“I’ll take him,” she said.

Leela studied her. “Your first kill won’t be heroic.”

“I’m not looking for heroic.”

---

Dr. Kulkarni died alone.

Anika followed him for three days. Learned his routines. His prayers. His lies. On the fourth night, she stepped into his apartment wearing a nurse’s uniform and a borrowed face.

He didn’t even see her coming.

She poisoned his tea slowly—enough to paralyze, not enough to kill. She wanted him awake.

“Who sent you?” he gasped, eyes wide, body betraying him.

Anika leaned close. “A man you erased. And a child you thought wouldn’t remember.”

She injected the second dose.

As life drained from his eyes, she felt nothing.

No relief.
No horror.

Only clarity.

By morning, his death was ruled natural.

Leela said nothing when Anika returned. She only handed her a towel to wipe the blood from her hands.

“You crossed it,” Leela said quietly. “The line.”

Anika nodded. “I know.”

That night, Anika dreamed of her father—not dead, not bleeding, but watching her from across a table.

Finish it, he said.

When she woke, her phone was vibrating.

A message from an unknown number.

You’re becoming exactly what he feared.

Attached was a photo.

Her mother.
Awake.
Terrified.

Another message followed.

Come alone.

Anika stared at the screen, something inside her cracking—not breaking, but sharpening.

Vikram Rao wasn’t hiding anymore.

He was daring her.

And for the first time, Anika smiled.

Because death had already set her free.

And now…

She was coming for him.

Dil Na Diya lyrics

Dil Na Liya, Dil Na Diya

Toh Bolo Na Bolo Kya Kiya

Dil Na Liya, Dil Na Diya

Toh Bolo Na Bolo Kya Kiya

Aake Duniya Mein Bhi Agar

Pyar Na Kiya Toh Kya Kiya

Aake Duniya Mein Bhi Agar

Pyar Na Kiya Toh Kya Kiya

Tune Chaand Pe Bhi Hai Jamaye Kadam,

Dariya Mein Bhi Ghar Hai Banaya

Teri Jaado Ne Ek Rote Huye

Insaan Ko Hai Hasana Sikhaya

Upar Wala Bhi Haske

Ek Din Yeh Tumse Pooche Ga

Dil Na Liya, Dil Na Diya

Toh Bolo Na Bolo Kya Kiya

Dil Na Liya, Dil Na Diya

Toh Bolo Na Bolo Kya Kiya

Aake Duniya Mein Bhi Agar

Pyar Na Kiya Toh Kya Kiya

Aake Duniya Mein Bhi Agar

Pyar Na Kiya Toh Kya Kiya

Yeh Jeevan Bhi Ek Circus Hai

Abhi Sidhe The Abhi Ulte

Jisse Pyar Mila Woh Seedha Hua

Warna Latke Toh Latke

Bas Itni Si Baat

Sachi-Tu Bhi,Isko Maan Le

Dil Na Liya,Dil Na Diya

Toh Bolo Na Bolo Kya Kiya

Dil Na Liya, Dil Na Diya

Toh Bolo Na Bolo Kya Kiya

Aake Duniya Mein Bhi Agar

Pyar Na Kiya Toh Kya Kiya

Aake Duniya Mein Bhi Agar

Pyar Na Kiya Toh Kya Kiya

Echoes in the Adoption File - Part 6

 

What Survives the Dark

The generator kicked in after exactly ten seconds.

Emergency lights flickered to life, bathing the corridor in a sickly red glow. Anika stood frozen beside her mother’s bed, knife clenched in her fist, every nerve screaming.

The footsteps stopped outside the room.

Then applause.

Slow. Deliberate.

Vikram Rao stepped into the doorway, unharmed, unhurried—like a man walking into a temple he owned. Two armed men followed him, their guns already raised.

“You always were predictable,” Vikram said softly. “Love makes people sloppy.”

Anika placed herself between him and the bed. “You said she was alive.”

Vikram nodded. “I never said she was free.”

Her mother coughed, a wet, painful sound. “Vikram,” she whispered. “You were a boy once.”

He didn’t look at her.

“Phase Two,” he said, eyes locked on Anika, “was never about killing you.”

One of the men handed him a tablet.

On the screen: a live video feed.

A room Anika recognized immediately.

Her adoptive parents’ living room.

Bound.
Gagged.
Alive—for now.

Anika screamed. “Leave them out of this!”

“They raised you,” Vikram said calmly. “That makes them… assets.”

Her mother’s voice broke. “She has nothing to do with this.”

Vikram finally looked at her then, eyes cold. “You taught her to survive.”

He turned back to Anika. “Here’s the choice. Walk away. Forget everything. I let them live.”
A pause.
“Or expose the Rao empire… and watch everyone you love disappear.”

Anika’s hands shook.

Her mother reached for her again. “Listen to me,” she whispered urgently. “This was never about revenge.”

Gunfire erupted.

Not from Vikram’s men.

From the corridor behind him.

Two sharp shots. One man dropped instantly. The second turned—too late.

A figure emerged from the shadows.

Female.
Short hair.
Blood on her knuckles.

“Still making messes, Vikram?” the woman said.

Vikram stiffened.

“You,” he hissed.

She smiled without warmth. “Me.”

She raised her gun.

Bang.

Vikram staggered, clutching his shoulder, shock cracking his composure for the first time.

Chaos exploded.

Anika moved on instinct—she pulled her mother off the bed as bullets tore through walls. The woman from the corridor covered them, precise, lethal.

Minutes later, silence.

Bodies on the floor.
Blood on the tiles.
Vikram gone.

The woman lowered her gun and looked straight at Anika.

“You don’t know me,” she said. “But your mother does.”

Her mother closed her eyes.

“Leela,” she whispered.

Leela nodded. “You left me to burn.”

“You chose the mission,” her mother replied. “I chose my child.”

Leela turned to Anika. “Your father wasn’t just an accountant. He was building a case—against traffickers, arms dealers, politicians.” She holstered her weapon. “The Rao empire funds wars.”

Anika felt something inside her harden.

“What do you want from me?” she asked.

Leela met her gaze. “I want you to finish what your father started.”

Sirens wailed in the distance.

Leela stepped back. “This is where you stop being hunted… and start hunting.”

She tossed Anika a phone.

Encrypted.
Loaded.
Ready.

As Leela disappeared into the smoke, Anika looked down at her mother—weak, shaking, alive.

And understood the final truth of her life:

She had crossed the line.

There was no innocence left to save.

Only justice.

And blood.

Just Existing

 No hopes left to hold,

no wishes waiting to bloom.
Days pass by unnamed,
nights arrive the same.

I live not to reach,
not to dream or become
just breathing, just standing,
surviving for the sake of a name.

Life moves on its own,
and I move because it does.