Chapter 13

The Story Of my Life

Month Eight.

I sit in front of the television as I try to angle the scissors just correctly over the coupons.

"Oh my god, Pooja! Look!" Mansi yells, jumping over the couch to sit next to me. She was my only friend; I had met her during my very first check up after I moved here; three months ago. She works as a nursing assistant at the hospital. Every time I look at her, I saw the life I could have had, had I not been so fucking stupid.

It was almost impossible to find a place where a Mittal conglomerate did not exist. However, luck was on my side when I found out that Vermont was recently free of the Mittal name and so I was free to move to the state that seemed to be filled with snow and ice. It was fitting of my situation, without the Mittal I craved, my life in every aspects, except for my little one, was cold. Mansi knew my secret and when she found out my predicament, she demanded that I live with her instead of my car. She was a God send.

Glancing at the television channel Mansi rushed to change, I saw the face of Tanya, looking as furious as ever as she marched down the courthouse steps.

"I don't want to see this." I frown. Her face makes me sick.

"Well too bad." She unmuted it.

"So there you have it, after a tiresome battle in the courts, Mrs. Tanya Mittal is not allowed to control shares in Mittal Enterprises, instead Mr. Kabir Mittal's control will be under protection by his adopted father Pk Mittal. As many of you know, Mr. Mittal was involved in an accident almost eight months ago leaving him in a coma. Doctors do report that his vitals signs are well. However, they are not sure when he will awaken."

"You should go back."

"Mansi, I don't want to talk about this. Please. I can't and won't. My life is not about him, its about my son and right now I'm trying to save eight dollars for diapers so please... Ah damn it!" I felt the tears as they stream down my face. I was so tired of crying.

"Pooja Breathe. Breathe. You don't want... that." Her voice rose as I feel exactly what she was seeing. I freeze as I feel the warm rush of liquid soak my pants.

"No! I'm not ready. Please Mansi..." I sob. I don't think I'll ever be ready but, this was all too much.

"Pooja, Pooja look at me." She held my face, looking me in my eyes. "You're going to be fine. Okay, You're never going to be completely ready, but you've got Rudra and I, you're going to be perfect."

"I'm sorry about your couch, I will pay you back for that too, one day." I reply, just as I feel what was no doubt to be the first of many contractions. It feels similar to the pains I've been experiencing all day, only more concentrated and impossibly stronger.

"Yep, okay we need to go." She says quickly, trying to help me up.

That was who I was now. The girl who needs help, the girl who called her father needing help and had him laugh at her before hanging up. The girl who had lived in a car, and took birdbaths in local public restrooms. That was me, Janvi Kapoors. Pooja Sharma was dead.

Year One.

"God, I can't believe how big he is." I whisper, looking at the almost one year old old in my arms. He was so preciously perfect, even with spit and food marring his face.

"I can't believe the bombs that he leaves in his diapers." Rudra jokes as he kisses Mansi on the head before he enters the kitchen.

"Hey, don't be mean to my God son! He's amazing!" Mansi laughs, tickling Abeer's stomach. "You're amazing little Abeer and handsome too. How's the most handsome baby in the world?"

I laugh; "Please don't give him an ego just yet. Although, he is pretty darn cute, right?"

She reaches out for him and I carefully place him in her arms. She took a deep breath before looking up to me. She looks nervous which was odd, seeing as though she spent a lot of time with infants at the hospital... She had gotten me a part time job as janitor there, so I knew how well she was with them. Luckily, Rudra's mother loves to spend time with Abeer, so when I was gone, I had a willing sitter.

"Are you alright?" I whisper, wiping Abeer's face before placing his hat on his head.

She frowns, looking up at me; "Rudra asked me to marry him."

"What? When? Why didn't you say anything?"

"You worked the late shift last night and I knew you would be tired. So, I was just waiting for the right time."

"The right time? That's any time! You said yes, right?" I look for a ring on her finger but there was none, "Mansi, please tell me I'm not the reason. If you love him, jump headfirst. This is so right, believe me. You've done it right."

"I asked for some time."

Reaching for Abeer, I wrap him in my arms and stand. "Time for a nap Abeer ,aunty Mansi has to go get engaged now."

"Janvi..."

"We are going to our room and when I come out, there better be a ring on that finger of yours." I say as I walk around Rudra's couch, I liked to call it that since he had replaced the one I ruined, I head into Abeer's and I bedroom.

I wasn't able to afford a crib and I made Rudra, along with Mansi, promise not to buy me one. Instead, I made sure he was secure and comfortable on our bed, I made sure the bed faced the wall to prevent him from rolling or falling off. It serves its purpose, plus since his birth, I wake up every couple of hours to check on him, to make sure he was breathing and comfortable. I rest him on the bed, sitting beside his sleeping body and grab the journal, reading through some of my thoughts.

There is nothing scarier or rewarding in life than being a mother... it's like your mind, body and soul are no longer yours alone. Some days I want to laugh out loud and revel in being apart of something so amazing and other days, I just want cry at the fact that this is all I can give him.

It's funny how common sense is not as common, as you would think. I look back on my life and I am so confused as to the choices I have made. But then those decisions gave me my son, so I couldn't possibly regret them.

"Thank you! I love you so much! Thank you!" I heard Rudra yell from the other side of the door. I guess Mansi did the right thing and accepted. Grabbing a pen, I completed the last entry of my journal, this was the last page, I found it fitting for it to be on such a day. I may not have gotten my happily ever after, but someone else did and just seeing that was enough for now.

Life is hard, dreams do not always come true, love is not forever, friends come and friends go, I may fall. I may even remain down for a while. But I will not die. Life is hard, painful and scary, but I refuse to die. However, I think I've been down for too long. I live my life for my son now; I love him more than I ever thought I could love anyone. It's the kind of love nothing or no one can break. I'm thankful for him, Everything I do is for him and no one else. And you know what? I'm happy with that, with him.

I finish the last entry, and close the journal before placing it on top of envelope Mansi left at my bedside table. She thought I should get it published. I, on the other hand didn't care anymore.

I was done. Rolling on to my side, I try to find a soft music station for Abeer and I to listen to. Abeer really liked music, he clapped madly when he heard a soothing melody.

"Breaking News; Kabir Mittal of Mittal Enterprise has awoken. As many have seen, for over a year and a half, Kabir Mittal's face has been plastered on every media outlet..."

It was as if the dead part of my heart, the only place I allow bear remnants of Kabir Mittal, beat for the first time.

He was awake! He's alive! It cheered, but I glance at Abeer before turning the radio off.

Pooja was gone. Every part of her, including Kabir Mittal didn't exist in our world. I had to do what was best for my baby. That did not involve subjecting him to the Mittal's and the scandal that would surely follow. There was nothing for us back there. We were just two crazy people who thought they were in love... well one.

He never said it. But that did not matter.

I was done.

Year Two.

"I can not believe you sent them my journal Mansi!" I yell as I hand Abeer some fruit while he works on the puzzle in front of him. Mansi and I were packing up the apartment. She and Rudra are going to rent this place to me while they moved into a town house.

"You weren't ever going to do it."

"Mansi, there are things in there, names—"

"I sent a typed copy, not your actual journal. All the names are blacked out. You can make up new ones. Come on, they loved it!" She replies, "They are offering you a lot of money, a lot of good money, can you imagine what you can do with that? Seriously."

"I sold a piece of myself before, I'm not doing it again." She doesn't get it. I don't want anyone to see that side of me, that dark ugly side of him and everything we had done together. I don't want Abeer to one day pick it up and know who I used to be.

She sighs, placing the letter in my hand; "You took the money the first time for yourself. Now you can take it for Abeer. He learned to walk early, he's already writing and reading better than any two year old I've ever seen. The kid will be in college before he hits puberty and you know it. You need this."

"What if he reads it?" I whisper, thinking of the one man I have fought so hard expel from my mind.

"He won't. There is no trace of Pooja Sharma. Did you ever use the name Janvi Kapoor?"

"No, but..."

"No buts. This is a good thing. You are doing a good thing. Even if the book tanks, you will still have the advance, that would give you time to get yourself together. You can even leave this dump."

"Hey!" I smack her shoulder, I love this dump it's the only place that feels like home on this coast.

"Awww. No hit, mommy." Abeer wags his finger at me.

"Yea, no hitting, mommy." Mansi giggles, rushing up behind Abeer and giving him a huge hug. His eyes shine under the praise. In all honesty, he got nothing for me. He had his father's dark hair, eyes, straight nose, and brain it seemed. I look down at the wooden bear puzzle. It read for ages 4 and up and yet he seems bored with it. There was no doubt in my mind that he was gifted and that worried me. That meant not only needing the best teachers, but the best schools and no matter how gifted he was, that also meant needing money.

"Am I right by not going to him?" I whisper and she knew who I spoke of without needing a name.

She shrugs; "You have your reasons and I know you are doing your best. It's not like he has gotten divorced anyways."

No. He couldn't get divorced for another eight and half months. But that just added another reason to the list as to why I could not go back. Everything would be the same. I was over that drama and I had to be over him damn it. I had to be.

"Abeer would you like to read with mommy tonight?" I ask, kissing his cheek as he grins widely displaying his perfect little teeth.

"Wait here." He tells me before running off to the bathroom as fast as his little legs could take him.

"I'm going to miss not living with you both." Mansi frowns.

"Yea right, up until you get into Rudra's arms alone in your big new house." I wink and she blushes... since when could I make another blush.

Rolling her eyes at me, she hands me the phone; "Call them, say yes, and then start counting your money."

Sighing, I took the phone from her; "If this blows up in my face I'm taking you down with me."

"I'm fireproof baby."

"You are?" Abeer frowns, looking confused with a book in hand.

Mansi laughed "No little Einstein, it's just an expression."

While she tries to explain, I call the number on the letter... I hope this works out. Providing a better life for Abeer was all I could pray for.

Year Three.

"Did you see it?' My agent ask as I stare at the computer screen.

New York, USA Today and Time Magazine best book: Confessions of a Billionaire's Whore by Janvi Kapoor

"Holy shit."

"I know! Janvi stores have been selling out right and left! I've got interviews lined up wanting more—"

"Denise, I've told you, no interviews no talk shows, or photo-shoots." Even she doesn't know what I looked like. We have only spoken through email and on the phone. It was one of the main things that remained ironclad about our contract. My name or face would never be attached to this.

"I know. I know. Jeez, you think there would be some level of trust. I got the questions in a email and I can send it to you now. All you have to is answer them and send it back."

"No thanks." I turn to find Abeer reading on the floor of the living room. It's odd how many things have changed in a year. With the money I was able to get, I had taken Mansi's advice about a nice townhouse across the street from hers. Abeer picked it out because he liked the green door. Green was his all time favorite color and no matter how hard I tried to get him to appreciate another one, he would just go back to good ole green. We were better at mixing and matching his outfits but he was so picky and stubborn.

She sighs; "Janvi, we have to strike while the iron is hot. Summit has contacted us about film rights, however you need to sign off on them. Not to mention you can make so much more if you made this into a series."

"What is with people and always wanting more money? Needing to be richer. There is going to be no movie or interviews. Goodnight Denise." I hang up and click out of the page.

I looked back to child report sent me,

Dear Ms. Kapoors,

Congratulations, we without a doubt believe your son, Abeer Kapoor is a very gifted child. Gifted children usually fit into five different categories. Level Five being the most advanced. From the academic and social exams given to your son, it is our assessment that he fits into the fourth category, which is remarkable and rare given his young age.

Children at level four have an extensive and complex vocabulary as well as verbal skill. Most are literate by their third and half year. But usually will not start expressing their literary skill for anything other than pleasure until the age of four or five. During this period they will also start to comprehend math functions as well as a more complex understanding for social concepts. By six there is comprehension for youth and adult level literature. According to scholarly journals and research done by renowned child psychologists and educators, a child at Abeer's level and age will soon express a high interest in learning pure facts; simple scientific knowledge, numbers and a piqued interest in advanced terms and words.

There is generally only one per 19,000 children that display these incredible and impressive gifts, and Abeer is that one. Without special consideration, he may experience difficulty in school, especially in regards to social setting with his peers. For this reason, without an enrollment in a gifted school, Abeer's development is in peril. Feelings of isolation, depression and a stunting in social growth are commonly seen in gifted children that are allowed to attend a rudimentary educational facility.

For further information and support please feel free to contact us and join a parent support group. It may be beneficial for Abeer to be actively social with children who are just as special as he is, a place where he can be normal.

Dr. Andrew Randolph,

The National Association For Gifted Children (NAGC)

Sighing, I stand before walking over to the kitchen and grabbing a tube of vanilla ice cream and two spoons. I took a seat on the rug in front of our couch, which was green, and look to Abeer who sitting close by.

He crawls over to me and rest his head on to my side; "What are you reading?"

"The Adventures of Curious George." He answers without looking up, pointing to each word as he read it.

"Do you have time for an ice cream break?"

"Of course mommy." Grinning, he turns and takes the spoon as I open the lid. "No bowls?"

"No bowls." I laugh; "Once a week, you and I are going to watch a movie and eat ice cream okay?"

"Really?"

"Yep, but you have to be good and eat all your vegetables during the week."

"Okay, I promise." He replies, placing a large scoop of the frozen treat into his mouth.

"Not so fast!"

"Ah my head is cold." He frowns and I could only laugh. So smart and yet he was still just a little kid.

"Abeer what do you think of skipping pre-school and learning with me instead?"

He took a smaller scoop and tilted his head to the side; "So you would be my teacher? But you're mommy."

"I know, but mommy went to school too. I can be teacher mommy."

"Okay. Teacher mommy."

Teacher mommy it was then.

Year Four.

I really did not want to be here at Hawthorne Publishing House, but I needed to come in person to sign my rights over for the film. I was adamantly against it at first but after twenty-seven different offers and a ridiculous amount of money, I mean three point five million dollars up front ridiculous plus gross earnings, I caved. It was odd how much money people were willing to throw at me for just a signature. I had read over the contract, hired two lawyers and everything was perfect. I would have input on the cast and locations seeing as how I hadn't painted a very clear picture of what any of the characters look like... which had earned me a lot of negatives reviews but the public loved it. They were able to create who they wanted, to immerse themselves fully into the book. That was not my initial intention but it worked.

Last year I had written a small children's book, which had done somewhat well. However, it worked as a good cover story. Buzz was still surrounding the book; everyone wanted to know who the elusive billionaire was. There were even multiple lists online with readers voting on who they thought it was, I had checked and Kabir wasn't even on the top twenty of any of them.

"Janvi, you look wonderful." Denise hugs me, "you have no idea how excited I am for you. Remember, everyone assigned to your team has signed a NDA."

I nod as she opens the door for me and when I step through, my heart stops, I feel as if I could not breathe. My world was spinning off it's axis.

"Janvi Kapoors, I would like to introduce you to Mr. Kabir Mittal, owner of... of well everything, rumor has it he's trying to buy us out as well."

"Nice meet you Ms. Kapoor, you have no idea how long I've waited for this." He extends his hand, but I can't.

Turning, I run, I trip and run and keep going until I was beyond the top level offices and in the staircase.

"Are you really going to run down all 115 levels?" He yells, surprising me at his close proximity, I trip causing him to grab a hold of me.

"Let go of me! I said let go!" I scream, ripping myself out of his arms.

"Pooja,"

"Nope, Janvi, you have the wrong person." I snap, wiping my eyes but damn the tears would not stop falling. There he was, dark hair as messy as ever, with eyes that pierce my soul with a simple look. He looks the same with the exception of the scruff on his chin. It looks nice. Really good, it made him look... shit.

"No I don't, I've spent three fucking years searching for you. I would know if I had the wrong person Pooja..."

"Stop." I close my eyes; "You don't know me. I'm not the same person. Pooja Sharma is dead. It's been four years Kabir."

"It could have been one! I woke up and the one person I wanted to see was not there. The one person I— You weren't there. You weren't there. You left me. YOU. You have no right to be pissed off! WHERE THE FUCK WERE YOU! Where?" He whispers the last word so softly that it pierces me, it hurts worse than his yells.

"Ask your wife." I sigh, moving to the door but he grabs a hold of me and spin me towards him before pushing me against the wall.

"I have no wife, so I'm asking you." He whispers only inches from my face. "How could you leave me? I loved you."

Loved. Past tensed.

His eyes glaze with unshed tears and I want to say something but I can't. His lips are suddenly on my own and it feels as if I am home again. God I had missed this. Feeling him grab my thighs, I wrap them around him causing the skirt I wore to ride up. His hands grasp my blouse before pulling it off me. He kisses my neck, sucks and bites all over me, it's exactly how I remember him being; possessive and needing to stake claim. His hands are everywhere and I'm floating. I'm drifting away from everything including common sense. The sting of my underwear being ripped off my body brings me back to the present but not to the plane of sanity. I can't help but to scream as he slams himself into me.

He's taking his anger out on my body, this isn't for my pleasure, it was all about him. He needs this. His hand pulls down my bra allowing my breast to freely rub against him as my back arched against the door.

"Three years." He hisses, holding my throat with one hand and my waist with the other.

"You don't call." Thrust.

"Ahh..." I whimper.

"You don't write." He squeezed my neck slightly in punctuation with his pounding.

"You don't even leave a fucking forward address!" After each word, his thrusts increase and my head spins with dizzying pleasure..

"Kabir, I—"

"I spent millions looking for you! Only to be blackmailed by a staff member who figured out I was the billionaire in your fucking book." This time, he adapts a punishing pace, I'm unable to breathe, unable to form a coherent sentence to try to explain.

Fuck! I had forgotten how good this was. How he makes me feel and even though this was angry and unlike anything I've experienced, I've missed him. His thumb runs over my lips, no doubt smearing my lipstick. I'm too close to ecstasy to care about mess he's making.

He thrusts forward twice more, his hands squeezing my body as he releases inside of me.

No. Fucking bastard! I was so close.

He pulls out of me and I slide to the floor, my legs are weak. I hadn't had anyone since him.

"Fix yourself, then get your pretty ass back into that office, so you can sign the damn contract. And we can go to lunch. We are going to talk... about everything." He snaps at me while adjusting himself.

I close my eyes just sitting there, lost in my head. Four years, I had tried to ease the memory of him, how he felt, tasted, how weak I got whenever he was near. And in four minutes, I found myself right back where I started.

He waits as I stand and grab my purse. He reaches out for my hand but before he could touch me, I turn and rush through the door, locking it from my end.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" He yells at me through the glass, "Pooja stop acting like a child and open this fucking door."

"You haven't read my book, have you?" I ask him.

His eyes narrow; "You mean the book in which you illegally wrote about our affair? No I haven't read it, I've spent too much time searching for the bloody author."

"Read it. That's what happened to me! I only left out your accident and it's also the reason I can never go back to you. I don't care if you aren't married. You're still Kabir Mittal, Billionaire CEO, and will not jump into that fire. I just can't." I whisper before I turn to leave.

Chapter 14

Broken Into a Billion Little Pieces

KABIR

Year One.

I can't breathe. No matter how much air I try to inhale, I can't breathe.

I'm going to be sick.

"Mr. Mittal? Mr. Mittal, I need you to calm down. I know this is overwhelming but you need to relax and take deep breaths." A man who I'm assuming is a doctor says trying to sit me upright, but I brush him off, pushing him away.

"Unhand me, right now!"

"He doesn't like to be touched. Move back and give him a moment." Pk says as he walks toward me.

Everything is white and smells sterile. I know this place and I don't like it. I don't like the memories it brings forth.

"Where is she?" I whisper while looking around. I try to sit up but I can't, my legs are useless.

"Mr. Mittal, you've been a coma for the last twelve months, your muscles are weak from disuse, this side effect is not permanent, some physical therapy will however be needed to rectify it." Once again the doctor tries to touch me, but I grab his wrist.

My arms ache but I try my hardest to squeeze anyway; "If you touch me again, I will sue your ass into the next stone age, are we clear."

"Give us a moment." Pk sighs and the idiots in white leave, no doubt more than annoyed by my actions.

"Where is she?" I ask him again. "Where is Pooja?"

"She's gone."

I freeze. Swallowing, I lay back slowly, my mind blank.

"Get out."

"Kabir—"

"GET THE FUCK OUT PK, GET OUT!" I yell until my throat burns. He doesn't listen, instead he pushes a button so I could sit up in the now partially erect bed.

Holding a cup of water with a straw to my lips, he waits for me to drink. But I look away instead.

"Twenty years ago, we did this same routine Kabir, the only difference is you threw your tray at me. Your twenty eight, I had hoped you would've grown up since then." He sighs.

Rolling my eyes at him, I take the cup even as my hands shake. I feel like a prisoner in my own body. Nothing was working the way I need it to. I feel like that seven year old Pk spoke of. Who knew waking up from a coma felt the same as being kicked down the stairs by your father.

"She left? She just left? She hasn't come to see me?" I whisper before taking a drink.

"Kabir, it's been an insane year. I haven't thought too much about her. She and Tanya had some sort of fight and she left. That's all I know, I was too busy trying to keep save the company from your wife." He snickers.

"From Tanya? She spends money but I doubt—"

"She fought for the controlling stake of your company."

"She what? What the fuck? She doesn't even have a right to the trash at Mittal Enterprises." She can't even count to ten and touch her nose at the same damn time.

"My thoughts exactly. She hired every lawyer she possibly could to fight me. Luckily, Raghu knew where your will was and the judge reasoned since you had not included her, then there must have been a reason."

"A good fucking reason. She's a blood sucking leech." I hiss relaxing slightly; "How bad am I in the red?"

"Where's the faith son?"

Turning to him, I wait and he sighs; "Fifty-seven million. Apparently if you aren't head of the company, people lose faith."

"For good reason. But it's not as bad as I imagined it could have been." If he said a hundred and fifty seven million I would have reasons to panic.

"You should rest, you have a painstaking amount of physical therapy, plus your mother and everyone will want to see you soon." He puts a hand on my shoulder and I can't stop the flinch that shakes my body. I can handle being touched sometimes, but not in a hospital... never at a hospital.

"Thank you dad." I whisper, without turning to face him, I knew he had stopped.

"Get some rest, son." He says, closing the door behind him.

The moment he did, I reach for the phone. I shift over to the left side of the bed, it feels as if I am dragging dead weight. Dialing the memorized number, I don't know whether to laugh or cry when it doesn't even ring.

"The number you reached is not in service..."

I try her office phone, but I got the same message.

"UGH!" throwing the phone against the wall, I rest, pinching the bridge of my nose, beyond frustrated.

"Kabir, baby!" Tanya rushes in, dressed like a Barbie doll, dripping with diamonds. Out of fucking nowhere she rushes towards me with not one, but two fucking photographers.

"I want them out, Tanya!" I yell.

"Mr. Mittal we—"

"I will destroy you. Do you understand me. I will destroy you. By the time I'm through with you, there will be no fucking newspaper in the world that will touch you if you don't get out of my fucking room!" I yell, pressing the emergency button.

They ran like the dogs they were. They weren't here for me. It's about lining their pockets, it was always about money.

"Are you fucking crazy?" Tanya snaps and I just wait for the heart attack that is hovering my head to make an appearance. "For the last year, I had told my head up, make boring appearances, shake hands with all your stupid business partners while everyone looked at me with pity."

"I bet you loved the attention." Where was the morphine drip? I need one badly.

"Yes, when it is about me! No one gave a shit about me, all they cared about was you. Oh how are you holding up and you alright? Then it was all Kabir this and Kabir that, like you're a fucking saint or some shit. This was my chance to shine. Be the wife that never lost hope!"

"Tanya, where is Pooja."

Her blue eyes bug out of her head and her nostrils flare; "You mean your whore."

"She is not my whore and you know it. What did you do?"

Her jaw clenches tightly; "What did I do? I gave her the money you owed her. All three million and told her to leave. And guess what? She asked for more, to keep up with the lifestyle you led her to believe was fitting of trash."

That isn't Pooja. "You're fucking lying."

"Am I really? Check with your bank. I her gave all three million and she left. If that isn't the definition of a whore, I don't know what is. At least you weren't able to see it. It's just like you to let a woman's pussy cloud—"

"Tanya, if you talk about her like that anymore, I will kill you in everyway you care about. I'll kill your reputation, your bank account and your status. Don't come back. I'm leaving the Hamptons."

"Kabir, the press."

"I don't give a shit. Make something up, it's what you do apparently."

Coughing, she huffs before turning around and slamming the door behind her.

I fight back the burning in my eyes but it doesn't stop. The intense burning heightens until the tears pour out of my eyes.

I don't understand! Where was she? How could she just leave? This didn't make sense. None of this made any sense.

Everything was fucked up. One moment we were fine, almost perfect. She was perfect and we were on our way to being perfect and then the next, she's gone. It's only been day it seems!

I lay back, not caring, and time went by. One hour. Two hours. It just flew by. Time meant nothing without her and I don't want to think, I don't want to feel. I just want her back.

6:30pm March 18th. That was when time stopped for me.

It's only been a day.

It's been a year.

YEAR TWO

There is a level of desperation that comes to play when you truly want to find someone or thing. You do things that you never thought you would. Like return to indore and sit at your abusive fathers favorite diner while waiting for your ex-lover's father.

But I was running out of options. She had disappeared. A part of me, that I refused to listen to, believed Tanya had her murdered and put the 3 million in her name just to throw me off. I had checked, double-checked and checked again. Tanya had taken the three million and placed it into a private account. No matter how thoroughly I checked, I had no way of knowing what happened to the money after that.

"Mr. Mittal, what brings you to my neck of the woods." Ashok Sharma snickers before taking a seat in the booth across me.

"Actually Mr. Sharma, I born here. So these are my woods too... I even own a great portion of it."

"I guess you are a hot shot piece of shit. No wonder the whore was willing to get into your pants—"

He reminds me so much of my father it made me sick; "She's your daughter."

"That bitch stopped being my daughter the moment she ran off all hot and bothered to jump into your bed."

Biting my cheek, I take a deep breath before speaking again; "Where is she Ashok?"

"Ain't I say on the phone; I ain't talking until I get my money."

"I have fifty thousand in cash right now." I put the thick envelope on the table, but he snickers, his brown eyes glistening like the bastard he is.

"You think I'm some idiot? You are worth 72 billion dollars! I want a fucking million at least. That's just pocket change for you, right? Call me when you want to make a serious offer. Think of how badly you want to find my cunt of a daughter." He laughs, drinking his beer as he gets up.

I watch him as he heads to the parking a lot. Looking over to the body guards behind me I grab the envelope before following. I wait until he got up to his old Chevy truck before grabbing his head and slamming his face hard enough to make a dent in the hood.

"AH! For the love of FUCK!" he screams, falling beside the truck.

Pulling him up by his neck, I continually slam his face into the door before twisting his arm back; "Do you think I'm fucking playing with you?"

"HELP!" He screams at the people in the diner, but none of them, not even the people at the windows look at him.

"Help! Help!" I mock, twisting his arm further back; "It's funny how you pigs always call for help when we fight back. No one is going to help you. You know them just like do. I remember you. I remember all the money my father would throw at you and all the other pigs whenever I called for help. How people like you and them did nothing as he beat the shit out of me and my mother."

I twist his arm until I heard a satisfying pop.

"FUCK!" He cries out.

"Where is she ? Bare in mind, you only have three other limbs, it won't be long until I start detaching parts you will undoubtedly miss."

"fuck, I don't know! She called from somewhere in the Northeast

"Where in the northeast?" I kick him in his stomach.

"I don't know, one of them small states! She was asking for help! I said no, that's all I know, please."

Pulling him up by his collar, I pull my fist back before knocking some of his teeth in. Blood and spit drips from his face and I want nothing more than to kill him.

"She is your daughter. Your fucking daughter, how can you be so fucked in the head." I let him fall before stepping away, he wasn't worth it. Kicking the envelope to him, I turn to face him as my car pulls up.

"Thank you for your help Mr. Sharma." I say, stepping into the car as my bodyguard hands me a wet towel to clean my hands.

I need to find her, if only to yell at her myself.

"Mr. Mittal it's four o'clock." The driver reminds me.

Thank.

Pulling out my phone I call my lawyer; "Tennyson. It's Mittal. It's time. Make sure she signs the papers quickly and quietly."

"Mr. Mittal, are you sure you still want to give—"

"I just want her out of my life. The contract was up at four and it's now four o'one, which means I have been married to her for a minute longer than necessary."

"I'll handle it."

Hanging up, stare out at all the green. Place never changes. It was both comforting and tiring.

YEAR THREE

Standing in my New York office, I stare out at the city. The bright lights that seem to go on for miles and light up the darkened skies. People come from all over the world to see this. Not me. New York hates me and I hate it. I hate it with a burning passion. Every time I come back, my life gets fucked in some way or another. My father loved it. He used to bring my mother and I here every fucking summer. Summer was the darkest time of the year for us. No one could hear us scream from the beach house. No cops were called; no odd looks when we went into town; nothing but bruises and private doctor offices. They only cared about his money. Broken legs, cracked ribs. They all had price tags and my father paid well.

New York was the place where I learn money could get you anything. It's where I promised myself that I would be richer, stronger, better than him. That's why no one and I meant no one could lay their hands on me ever again.

"Mr. Mittal, we have a Mr. Vyom Verma here to see you, he says it's important." Rolling my eyes, I walk over to the intercom on my desk; "Kelly I'm busy."

"I know sir, but um..."

"Well?"

"He say's it's about your old girlfriend."

My hand pauses over the intercom.

He can't mean...can he?

"Send him in Kelly."

Sitting down in my chair, I watch as the man in question comes in with a grin as bright as the lights outside.

"Mr. Mittal? Wow. I've been working here for six years and I've never seen this office." He smirks, looking around appreciatively.

He is an odd looking man, with a narrow face and large nose that holds his glasses securely to his face. His hair looks greasy and he carries himself as if he wore his finest suit. Which is sad because it looks as if it belongs to someone's grandfather.

He tilts his odd head to the side to stare at the painting on the wall. It was nothing special to look at, a nine thousand dollar work of art that Suman bought from a local artist. It looked like nothing but giant red stokes to me.

"Can I help you Mr. Vyom Verma?"

"Yes. I think you can help me a lot." He grins, falling onto my dark brown chair in front of me. He put his feet up on my desk as if he owns the place and I suddenly contemplate if the mess that would occur if I chop them off is worth it.

His shoes are an insult, not only to me but the desk.

"How so?" I ask, trying not to be annoyed.

"You know, I've worked here six years. Doing the same shitty job for the same shitty pay. I was hoping to climb my way up the ladder, but that's almost impossible to do unless I get another degree... only the best for Mittal Enterprises. I mean, who gives a shit if I spend years here, I didn't go to a fancy school so I get treated like shit."

"Mr. Vyom Verma." He holds his finger up at me, cutting me off.

Has this man lost his fucking mind? He doesn't have a weapon on him. I would know since my door has metal detector lining the entrance. He wouldn't have made it another step without security being all over him.

"Then I wondered about that fine piece of ass that was your personal assistant I encountered years ago. I looked her up in every database but I couldn't find a single record of Janvi Kapoors anywhere. How could I not get promoted but some nobody from nowhere make it to being the personal assistant to Mr. Kabir Mittal himself. And that's when I read of this book." He drops a red book on top of my desk.

Confessions of a Billionaire's Whore by Janvi Kapoor.

"If only I was a woman, then I could just sleep my way to the top." He sighs before smiling; "Blackmailing the billionaire is a another option though. I want twelve million or I will go to the press. Everyone has been dying to find out who this guy is and really Mr. Mittal, you are a sick fuck. Sex in the conference, room really? But then again, she was smokin'."

Standing up, I push his feet off my desk.

"Mr. Vyom Verma I hope you know everything in this room is recorded," I nod over to the vase behind me as I press the button under my desk; "And I don't know any Janvi Kapoor ,nor as anyone with that name ever worked for me."

"You're a fucking dirty liar Mittal. I met her, a light brown haired woman with a tint of gold him them, big brown eyes,

"Not only are you a dirty pig; you're also fired. You should leave my office before I have someone throw you out." The doors open and two guards came in "Too late I guess."

"I fucking know it's you Mittal and I'm going to talk! I'm going to talk to everyone." Vyom Verma yells as they drag him away.

Sitting back down, I pick up the book and flip through it quickly.

No one else knew about that day... unless... she changed her name? She wrote book? She was willing to expose me just for a pay day? Three million wasn't enough. I fucking trusted her.

Looking up the publishing house, I throw the book to the side before calling up Tennyson.

"Tennyson we may have problem."

She was really after the money? How could I have been so fucking stupid. I couldn't trust anyone. How had I forgotten that? How had she made me forget that.

YEAR FOUR

"You're going to need this." Raghu sighs presenting a very old bottle of whiskey to me as I lean back in a chair of my new house here in Vermont. I bought it the moment I found out she lives here. I wasn't sure why. So far, there was nothing much here. A couple of tables, a desk and two bedroom sets, one in my room and the other for Raghu, who had chosen to accompany me. I think he wants to see her.

"Is it really that bad?" I whisper looking at the book in front of me. "How much of a pervert am I portrayed as?"

Everyone in the world now knew how I like my sex... even if they don't know it was me yet.

"You should just read it." He sighs sitting in front of me. His face looks so tired... like he has aged just from reading it.

"Why won't anyone just tell me?"

"Because you can read rather quickly. If you gave yourself an hour, you'll finish the damn thing and just be done with it."

"Maybe I don't want to see myself through her eyes. I already know I'm a fucking monster, I rather not see it in print and know others have seen it as well." How could she do this to me?

"Kabir, you aren't a monster and she doesn't see you as one either. It's about her pain. Not you. Read it and I'll be right here to help you, I promise."

Sighing, I open the first page and the very first thing I saw was a note, for me...or for the billionaire.

You don't know this man. While you read, you may think he's nothing but a fucked up Pandoras box of sex, anger, and pain... But, as I stated, you do not know him. The scars he bares, the pain he struggles with. Sometimes he would walk as though he carries the weight of the world on his shoulders, as if he were Atlas. He would wear a facade, one that would fool the many fools in his life, but I could see it in his eyes. He is broken. I am broken. We broken into a billion little pieces and that's how we found each other; through our eyes. He saw me, I saw him, we saw each other. We were not alone.

But you are going to judge us. You are going to say we're horrible people and there is no denying that; we could be. But remember this, while you judge, while you criticize, if you were me, as fucked up and in love as I was; you would not have done a damn thing differently nor would I!

-The Whore.

Page after page she calls herself a whore. She wrote out her pain for all the world to see. I knew each time she experienced something particularly painful it was because of me. It was when I pushed her away or failed to protect her. When I treated her like a common whore and not the only woman I had ever cared for.

"Tanya did what!" I yell and pause, feeling my heart beat steadily increase. "She didn't... But... No... She didn't have that power!" I stutter, trying to coherently form a thought and failing.

She lied. She fucking lied and I, the billionaire idiot, fell for it!

"Keep reading." Raghu whispers.

I did, faster this time, just as I used to as a child. And with each page I felt sicker to my stomach.

She had no money.

She lived out of her car.

She was fucking... she was fucking pr... pregnant.

"I can't." Putting the book down, I run to the bathroom, falling to my knees over the toilet and everything I had eaten since seeing her this morning comes rushing back. My body shakes as cry for the first time in what felt like forever.

"I don't understand!" I yell when Raghu comes behind me to hold me up as he often did when I was a child. "Everything changed so quickly. It happened too quickly. How did I lose out on so much!"

"Kabir, you need to breathe."

"I can't!" I snap, pulling off my tie. It feels as if all four years have come back to hit me like a freight train. It hadn't even felt as if years have passed.

Her confessions in her book became less frequent until it was only once every few months, like nothing had happen with the exception of the birth of our child.

"I'm a dad Raghu" I weep. "Almost four years. I've missed out on all of them."

Once again, I turn to the toilet to dry heave. But is seems as if I was empty, inside and out.

"Breathe." He whispers, handing me the bottle. "You can email her later, for now just breathe."

"I treated her like a whore again today. The first day I had seen her in years, she looked so beautiful and I was so angry. I just wanted to feel her. I didn't know." I took a drink straight from the bottle; "I didn't know."

Once again, I failed.

It was what I did apparently.

It was who I was.

And now I had a child out there that didn't even know me.

"Am I any better than him?" I whisper, thinking of my father.

"You are already a hundred times the man he was."

I don't feel like it. I feel myself turning into him.

My monster was becoming his.

Chapter 15

The Green Piano

From: Kabir Mittal

Date: Wed, February 27th

Subject: Suddenly It's Hard To Breathe

To: Janvi Kapoor

Pooja

I'm not sure where to begin. I feel as though I'm always starting off my letters to you this way, but I truly am at a loss. I read your book as you asked and if I were a smarter man I would have read it the moment I found out it was written by you. The more I read, the harder it is for me to imagine your sorrow. I was not aware that you felt as alone and broken as you did. I am not good at expressing or understanding emotions... my own included. I had fooled myself into believing you were just as happy I was.

Yes, I was happy, even though from your point of view I was distant and cold. I had never known happiness until I had you in my life. It scared me so I pushed you away. It's what I do. It's what I had seen as a child and for that I am truly sorry. I remember every moment with you, every kiss, every laugh, every time you said my name in your sleep. It felt joy when you felt joy and pain each time you did. As great as your writing may be, it was my love for you that left me aching as I concluded your book. We had our ups and downs, but nothing can compare to how greatly our lives shifted after my accident.

I saw that you changed what happened in the book, for reasons I can only guess is my protection. Instead of my accident, "Peter Ernest" goes missing only to be found with a devastating illness the "Ernest family" wish to keep out of the press? Really? Your readers truly believe that? I'm guessing that is the only embellishment, and if it is, then Tanya's words...

That woman truly threatened my life in order to get you to leave. I don't know what hurts more, the fact that you left or that you believed I was stupid enough to marry a woman I did not love then give her power of attorney in such an event. There are only two people I could trust enough for that; the first is Roger and the second is you. I was never going to let you out of my life. If you had stayed and waited, you would have found out the truth.

Everything Tanya said to you was a bluff. I know you didn't believe so at the time and I am sorry for the pain it brought you, but the only danger that came to me was waking up to find you gone. You were the first and only person I wished to see; it felt as if only a day had gone by, not a full year. One moment I was tapping my thumbs on the steering wheel, utterly nervous and excited to tell you how I loved you and the next I was waking up in a hospital to Tanya. She had said that she paid you the money I promised and you took it and left. At first I did not believe her of course. My family told me that Tanya and yourself fought at the hospital and then you spoke in private... that was the last time they heard from you. It seemed to match Tanya's story. Had I known Pooja, I would never had continued my contract with her... in fact, had I known, I may have just killed her myself. She will pay for the pain she has caused us both. I swear it. I will make her pay.

I wasn't sure what to do Pooja, you didn't even say goodbye to Raghu, which he is still sour about. He read your book before I did and sat across from me in my study with a bottle of whiskey... he told me I was going to need it. And he was correct.

I tried to contact Ashok, but he said he would not talk without being paid first. He asked for a million, but we settled on fifty thousand. For that, all he told me was that you were living in the Northeast. I never forgot about you. I couldn't. You speak of this almost supernatural control I have over you, but it's you that have me captivated in a way that cannot be described as common.

This part scares me the most, Aliya, our daughter in the book. I know you would never use the real name of our... our child, so I searched through your records as Janvi Kapoors. I'm sorry for the intrusion but I had to know. I was not going to be able to complete my reading until I knew the truth. Then I found him, Abeer, I could only find an ultrasound picture of him but I'm sure... I know he's.... he's perfect.

I want to be better. For you and him. I will spend every day of my life trying to be better. I will do everything and anything you want. Just please, I beg of you. Give me a chance, give us a chance. I am still in Vermont and it is doubtful that I will be leaving anytime soon. We can take things as slow as you want. I don't care, I just... I just need you both in my life and in anyway possible, I hope you need me too.

We can make this work. I know it. We won't end the same way our book personas did. Not only is not possible but I could never just move on, living a "diamond studded life" as you called it. Unless you call yourself and Abeer the diamonds in my life, then I happily accept it. But if not, our love story is too tragic and incomplete, give me a chance to remedy that.

Yours forever and always,

Kabir Mittal

P.S. I love you and miss you.

P.S.S. I am sorry for how I behaved in the stairwell. Seeing you... beautiful, happy, strong, while I was so fucked up. I didn't know how else to react...I was hurt. I am still hurt but that isn't your fault.

"Holy shit." Mansi whispers. She was sitting in the kitchen with me, while Abeer did his homework at the dining table.

"Yep." It was all I can manage to say as sip my glass of wine. One small glass, and I was going to cherish every last drop of it.

"Pooja, this was sent two days ago."

Sip. "Yeah, I know."

"You haven't replied."

Sip some more. "Nope." I even popped the 'p'.

"Are you fracking kidding me?" She hisses. "The poor man must be going crazy."

Don't cry. Don't cry.

"I'm so scared Mansi." My voice cracks and I hate that it did, "I don't know what to do. I can't just open myself to him..."

"You can't or you don't want to?" Damn her and her fucking insightful questions. I need her to be on my side. Kabir had an army, I just need one fucking person. "Well?"

"A little of both, okay. Both. Abeer and I are fine. I provide him with everything Kabir could. I'm a bestselling author. I'm a millionaire, damn it. We are fine." I was doing a good job. I was perfect, I may have made mistakes but Abeer was my greatest accomplishment.

"As great as you are Pooja. Abeer needs his father. He just does. There is a whole part of him that belongs to Kabir. Even with as much as you read and study, you will never able to understand Abeer on that level. Kabir can. He will connect with Abeer in ways you just can't. Take it from me, as a kid raised by a single mother and believe me I love my mother. But if I found out she kept my father away from me and he wasn't lowlife scum, I would be heartbroken."

She pulls me into a small hug and hands me back my phone. "Email him. Talk to him. This doesn't mean you have to start a relationship with him yet or again at all. Just let Abeer have a chance."

Sighing, I put the phone and the wine down before walking over to Abeer.

"Hey little bear." I brush his hair back to kiss his forehead.

"Hi mama bear, I finished." He giggles, handing me the multiplication worksheet, it's in the shape of a dog which meant he got to color when he was done. "Is it good?"

I look over them, he was already working multiplies of fives. How can such a tiny brain hold so much information?

"They're all correct little bear. Good job!" Reaching to the center of the table, I pull to display the rolls of stickers, "Which one do you want?"

"The rocket!"

"The rocket it is then! Now all you have to do is color it so we can hang it up on the fridge."

Nodding, he sits up on his knees to reach for his crayons and I just watch him. There would come a point where things weren't this I wouldn't be enough. But Kabir... Kabir would always be able to teach him.

"You okay mommy?"

Blinking quickly, I smile; "Of course. How could I not be perfect while sitting next to you?"

"I know! That's why I asked." He grins, the little bugger's ego was growing.

"Well, are you okay little Bear? Did you like the play date yesterday." I felt as if I were looking at the future leaders of the world whenever I went. Never in my life have I been more intimidated by a bunch of toddlers.

He shrugged; "It was okay, but they didn't have any fruit snacks, but I did make a new friend. His name is Toby and he plays the piano. Can I pay too?"

Kabir.

"Next time I will bring the snacks you want, are you sure you want to learn the piano? It's takes a long time and it's very hard. I don't want you to start then quit."

He frowns before shaking his head at me; "I really really want to play. Toby started playing when he was one and now he can play old McDonald. I promise not to quit, please mommy?"

"We will get a piano tomorrow. Mommy knows a friend who can teach you."

"REALLY!" He jumps up excitedly on his chair.

"Yes! Now feet down mister." I laugh.

He sits his little behind down before turning to Mansi; "Aunty Man, I'm going to play the piano." His head whips to me; "Can we get it a green one?"

Yea... No, that would look horrible.

"How about a black piano with a green bench instead?"

He frowned; "I don't know mommy, I like green."

"We'll see mister, finish up your homework." Rising from the seat I walk back over to Mansi who still hasn't touched her wine.

"I really hope I'm half as good as you are."

"Mansi are you..."

"Nine weeks."

"Oh my God. Congrats!" I pull her to me; "Please feel free to sit on my couch when your water breaks."

"Ahh you're so crazy!" She laughs while hugging me back. "I'm heading over to talk to Rudra now, wish me luck?"

"You don't need luck." I say, releasing her.

"Thanks. Now call him." Pulling away from me, she kisses Abeer's cheek and like always, he rubs it and blushes.

"Keep the window open so I can see." I love having her across the street.

"Peeping tom." She laughs.

"Yea, yea." I was happy for her, for them. Sometimes I feel as if Mansi and Rudra have the relationship Kabir and I could have had if we hadn't been so messed up when we met.

Taking the phone, I walk over to the window and dial. It doesn't even ring twice before he picks up.

"Hello? Pooja?"

I can't speak.

He sighs; "I'm was beginning to think you weren't ever going to call."

Still I can't speak.

"Pooja say something, please?"

"Mommy, I'm done!" Abeer yells, rushing up to me.

"Good job, you can up it on the fridge, okay." I watch him run, making sure he doesn't smack into anything.

"That was him right? Abeer? He finished something—"

"You can play the piano right?" I whisper, cutting him off, he sounded so... excited and nervous.

"Yea? I mean yes. Yes I can, why?"

"Abeer wants to learn how to play—"

"I can come over now."

"No." I say quickly, I feel as though I had slapped him through the phone so I backtrack; "We don't have a piano yet. I'm going to order one tonight and have it brought over tomorrow. So Monday would be a better time to start."

"Oh okay," He sounded as if he was breaking; "I can send over a list of stores and maybe I can pay for half or something."

"No, I got it."

"Pooja seriously, it's no problem—"

"Kabir, I got it. I may not be at billionaire status, but I am very well off now."

"I know that, I didn't mean to come off—"

"I know you never do, Kabir. It's fine, besides it's the least I can do since you're already going to teach him. Thanks." Why was this phone call so hard?

"Pooja, please wait..."

"I read your email. I read it a few times. I'm sorry I kept Abeer from you and we can work something out for his sake. But I can't do us. We were messy and complicated..."

"And in love, Pooja. We don't have to be messy or complicated now. Pooja, I'm not married. I'm awake and I only want to be with you and Abeer."

"When I'm with you I get hurt, Kabir. Maybe not right away but in time I will get hurt again. You still have your demons, you still push people away and I'm scared Abeer will have to deal with that as well. The only thing I want is to protect him and I can't do that if my judgment is clouded by you. I'll see you on Monday, goodbye." I hang up before looking out of the window as Rudra spins Mansi around.

Hearing the fridge open and shut, I turn towards the kitchen.

"Levi?"

"Yes mommy?" He asks sweetly, his hands behind his back

"Abeer." I say slowly.

"Mommy." he says in the same fashion.

I want to laugh at how serious he was trying to be.

"Did you take a cupcake from the refrigerator?"

"Not really." He answers.

"Show me your hands Abeer ?"

"Do I have to?" he pouts.

"Yes, you have to."

Sighing, he shows me his hands, which have green icing all over them.

Really?

"Are you mad mommy?" His lips quiver.... this kid has me wrapped around his little finger.

"Let's wash your hands and on movie night you have to eat carrots instead." I tell him before lifting him.

"But mommy..."

"No but mister, we made a deal."

He grumbles as I wash his hands. This was going to be an interesting year. All the others had felt as if they had flown by, but the moment Kabir re-entered my life, time seemed to be moving slower than normal.