Arc 1: The Wealth Momentum (2016)
Part III: The Silent Slap
Chapter 22 — Sisters' Questions
The Dadar villa had seen many moods over the years, but suspicion had never sat so heavily inside its walls. That evening, the air felt thick, as though the house itself was holding its breath. The high ceilings that once softened arguments now carried every sound, every pause, and every unspoken question with uncomfortable clarity.
Vikram knew the moment he stepped through the gate that something was wrong.
The Mercedes S-Class was parked outside.
Not across the street.
Not discreetly down the lane.
It stood right in front of the villa, glossy black paint catching the yellow glow of the streetlight, its presence impossible to ignore. The car did not blend into the middle-class neighborhood. It dominated it. Children had already circled it earlier in the evening. Neighbors had slowed their steps. Curtains had moved.
Vikram paused for a second longer than usual before unlocking the door.
Inside, the house was too quiet.
No television noise from the living room. No kitchen clatter. No casual voices drifting down the corridor. The silence was deliberate, curated, and waiting.
His elder sister, Neha, sat on the sofa with her arms crossed, posture straight and expression unreadable. His younger sister, Ritu, leaned against the dining table, trying to look casual and failing completely. Both pairs of eyes locked onto him the moment he entered.
"You came home early today," Neha said.
It was not a greeting. It was an opening statement.
Vikram set his keys on the side table and removed his shoes slowly. He did not pretend not to understand. Engineers learned early that denial wasted energy.
"Yes," he replied evenly. "I finished work early."
Ritu tilted her head toward the door. "Your work now comes with German engineering and leather seats?"
Vikram followed her gaze mentally, even without turning back toward the car. He exhaled softly.
"So you saw it," he said.
Neha leaned forward slightly. "The entire lane saw it, Vikram."
Their mother's voice floated in faintly from the kitchen, deliberately distant, pretending not to listen while missing nothing. Their father was not home yet, which made the timing worse. Sisters questioned with emotion. Fathers questioned with equations.
Neha spoke again, her tone controlled but sharp. "You told us you changed your job. You said you were doing consultancy. You said it paid better, but this…" She paused, searching for words that would not explode the situation. "This is not better. This is impossible."
Ritu crossed her arms now, mirroring Neha unconsciously. "Even big company managers do not buy cars like that at your age."
Vikram sat down opposite them, choosing the single chair instead of the sofa. The positioning mattered. Sitting lower felt defensive. Sitting too comfortably felt disrespectful. This was a negotiation, not an argument.
"It is a lease," Vikram said calmly.
Neha's eyebrows lifted immediately. "Do not insult us."
Ritu nodded. "We Googled the model. Even the EMI is ridiculous."
Vikram had expected that. He had underestimated many things in life, but not his sisters.
"Okay," he said. "Not a lease."
The silence deepened.
Neha folded her hands together. "Then explain it properly."
Vikram leaned back slightly, giving himself space to think. The system panel hovered at the edge of his awareness, silent and observing. This was not a spending moment. This was a credibility moment. The system rewarded ambition, but families punished inconsistency.
"I am not working a normal consultancy job," he began. "I simplified it because I did not want to create noise at home."
Ritu narrowed her eyes. "You created more noise by bringing that car here."
"That was a mistake," Vikram admitted without defensiveness. "I underestimated how visible it would be."
Neha exhaled slowly. "Vikram, we are not stupid. We know how much engineers earn. We know how long you were stuck at the same level. People do not jump from that to an S-Class without something illegal, dangerous, or dishonest."
That word lingered in the room.
Illegal.
From the kitchen, a spoon clinked against steel. Their mother had stopped pretending now.
Vikram chose his words carefully. He needed a lie that could breathe. A lie that did not require daily reinforcement. A lie that would age well.
"I am not being paid a salary," he said. "I am being paid a percentage."
Neha did not interrupt. That was a good sign.
"I consult for a private firm that handles capital restructuring for high-net-worth clients," Vikram continued. "My role is technical analysis and risk modeling. They do not hire many people, and they do not advertise. I get paid per deal."
Ritu frowned. "That still does not explain this level of money."
"It does," Vikram replied. "If the deal size is large enough."
Neha's fingers tapped against each other slowly. "Then why did you not tell us this earlier?"
"Because it is not stable," Vikram said truthfully. "Some months are very good. Some months are nothing. I did not want to raise expectations until I understood it myself."
That was not entirely false, and that was why it worked.
Ritu looked uncertain now. "So you bought a one crore car on unstable income?"
Vikram nodded. "Because I did not pay monthly. I paid upfront."
Neha stared at him. "With what confidence?"
"With calculated confidence," Vikram said. "The same way Papa calculates risks before recommending a solution in class. The same way you plan finances before making a big decision."
Neha stiffened slightly at the comparison. It was deliberate. He was anchoring his explanation to something familiar and respectable.
Ritu hesitated. "Are you in danger?"
That question cut deeper than the others.
"No," Vikram said immediately. "I am not dealing with criminals. I am not laundering money. I am not hiding anything illegal."
That was true.
"What about taxes?" Neha asked.
"I am paying them," Vikram replied. "Through a registered company."
The word "company" changed the temperature in the room.
Neha leaned back. "You have a company now?"
"Yes," Vikram said. "It is small. It is mostly on paper for now, but it is legitimate."
Ritu sighed, rubbing her temples. "You do not ease into anything, do you?"
Vikram smiled faintly. "I tried easing in. It did not work."
From the kitchen, their mother finally spoke. "Beta, your father will ask questions."
"I know," Vikram said gently. "And I will answer them."
Neha studied his face for a long moment. She had grown up watching him lie badly as a child. She knew his tells. The hesitation, the over-explanation, the nervous energy. None of those were present now.
"You sound prepared," she said quietly.
"I am," Vikram replied.
Ritu glanced toward the door again. "People will talk."
"They already are," Vikram said. "They always do."
Neha nodded slowly. "This explanation will not satisfy everyone."
"It does not need to," Vikram said. "It only needs to satisfy this house."
The room remained silent for several seconds.
Finally, Neha stood up. "We will not tell Papa anything tonight. Let him hear it from you."
Ritu added, "But this is not over."
"I know," Vikram said.
They moved away, tension unresolved but contained. This was not victory. It was a ceasefire.
As Vikram sat alone for a moment, the familiar blue glow surfaced gently, restrained and observational.
[SYSTEM UPDATE: SOCIAL STRESS ANALYSIS]
Context: Familial Scrutiny
Emotional Load: Elevated
Credibility Maintained: Acceptable
Stat Gain:
• [Mental Stability] +1
Tier Progression: Stable
The panel faded.
Vikram leaned back and closed his eyes briefly. Wealth had solved many problems, but it had introduced a new category of danger. Not external enemies, not competitors, but the people who cared enough to question him.
A believable lie was not about complexity. It was about consistency.
And tonight, he had bought himself time.
Outside, the S-Class sat silently under the streetlight, an undeniable truth parked in front of an old house that no longer knew what to make of him.