On a sweltering summer morning, a man in construction worker clothes and covered in cement dust came up before a beautiful mansion in New Delhi’s most upscale district.
He had a strong hat in one hand and a worn-out cloth sack on his back.
Two bodyguards in black barred his approach as soon as he stepped forward.
“Go somewhere else!” We don’t hire anyone to work here.
The man didn’t utter a word. He didn’t do that. Instead, he took a crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket and held it out. One guard seized it, stared at it for a second, then sneered at it, crushed it, and threw it on the ground.
- “Do you think you can meet Sahib with this? Leave me alone!
He didn’t move. His eyes were fixed on the big iron gate in front of him, as if he knew who would come through it. He was pushed hard to the side of the road, where he just nodded and muttered,
— “I’ll be back. In thirty minutes.
There was a great party for Mr. Rajendra Malhotra’s 70th birthday inside the villa half an hour later. He is the head of the Malhotra Group, a well-known real estate business in India. There were a lot of people at the celebration, including kids, grandkids, in-laws, close friends, and reporters.
As Mr. Rajendra was talking, the butler hurried in, leaned up close, and whispered something. His face turned pale, his hands shook, and his voice cracked right away:
- “Where is he?”
No one understood. Mr. Rajendra dropped everything and walked straight to the door, leaving his family perplexed.
“Do you remember me?” The man spoke in a low, chilly voice.
Mr. Rajendra didn’t say anything and was breathing hard. The man pulled out an old notebook, went to a page, and held it up. There was dried blood on the pages of the notebook, along with the words “Betrayal is life’s greatest crime” and the name “Rajendra Malhotra.”
He said softly, “Thirty years ago, you pushed me off the scaffolding to steal my project and my fiancée.” You thought I was gone. But I made it through, and I’m back today, not for money.
Mr. Rajendra went on his knees and said a name that had been off-limits in the house for thirty years. His lips shook as he did so.
— “It’s… Ramesh… My little brother…!!!”
The villa was shocked and froze. The person who said “dead in a site accident” and was taken off the family records was the same worker who was outside the gate that morning.
Mr. Ramesh stepped back and pointed to a car parked outside the gate.
— “I didn’t come alone. I’m here to inform you what our mom’s last will said. She was the one who kept me hidden, and now I’m back to get what belongs to me.
That night, Malhotra Group ceased all of their business because of a quarrel over an inheritance. The late matriarch’s secret will revealed that the real heir was not Mr. Rajendra but the younger sibling he had tricked.
Mr. Ramesh, the mason who had been booted out earlier, turned around and walked away, leaving behind others who were shocked and thought they had a right to be there.
