Beneath The Lies

by Sapna Bhog

  BENEATH THE LIES

  SAPNA BHOG

  TO ALL THE BRAVE SOULS WHO ARE WORKING DAY AND NIGHT TO ENSURE THE REST OF US ARE SAFE

  AND TO THOSE OF US WHO UNDERSTAND THE NEED TO STAY AT HOME IN THESE DIFFICULT TIMES. WE ARE ALL IN THIS TOGETHER!

  DESPERATE TIMES CALL FOR DESPERATE MEASURES - STAY STRONG AND STAY SAFE

  —SAPNA

  BENEATH THE LIES

  Copyright © 2020 by SAPNA BHOG

  All Rights Reserved.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  Cover designed by Merril Anil

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Sapna Bhog

  CONTENTS

  Aaliya

  Damien

  Aaliya

  Damien

  Aaliya

  Damien

  Aaliya

  Damien

  Aaliya

  Damien

  Aaliya

  Damien

  Aaliya

  Damien

  Aaliya

  Damien

  Aaliya

  Damien

  Aaliya

  Damien

  Damien

  Aaliya

  Damien

  Aaliya

  Damien

  Damien

  Aaliya

  Damien

  Aaliya

  Damien

  Aaliya

  Damien

  Aaliya

  Aaliya

  Damien

  Aaliya

  Damien

  Aaliya

  Damien

  Aaliya

  Damien

  Aaliya

  Damien

  Aaliya

  Aaliya

  Damien

  Aaliya

  Damien

  Aaliya

  Damien

  Aaliya

  Damien

  Aaliya

  Damien

  Aaliya

  Damien

  Damien

  Aaliya

  Damien

  Aaliya

  Damien

  Aaliya

  Damien

  Damien

  Aaliya

  Damien

  acknowledgements

  Also by sapna bhog

  About the Author

  Aaliya

  Mumbai

  Someone is screaming!

  In a heartbeat, I know it is me. I jerk awake and sit upright on my bed, my heart roaring against my ribcage. My hand trembles as I push my long hair back from my damp forehead. He can’t be dead; this was just a dream! I chant that thought while taking huge calming breaths. This is the third time this week I’ve woken up like this, feeling like he’s gone. The fact that I’ve lost all touch with him screams inside me that something is drastically wrong else he’d never be silent for this long; his phone would never be switched off like it has been this last week. I shut my eyes, anxiety weighing me down. How long should I convince myself there is a reason for his silence?

  I grab the photo frame from my bedside table. It is a picture of Damien and I from our honeymoon. His arm is around me and both of us are smiling into the camera, the waves of the Indian Ocean crashing behind us.

  I run a finger along his face, tracing that bearded jaw, visualizing him in my mind’s eye. Those striking grey-green eyes that sparkle whenever they rest on me, that heart-stopping smile that almost always makes me melt. I miss him! I miss being tucked under his chin when he hugs me. I miss his scent and I miss how his strong arms and tall frame wrap around me when we sleep, making me feel protected and cherished. This is the first time we’ve been separated for so long and perhaps that’s what is making me anxious. I shake my head. No, something is wrong. I can sense it.

  God! Please let him be safe, I pray.

  Love is a strange yet powerful emotion that hit me when I least expected it and swept me off my feet without me even knowing it. And now, five years later, it is the faith I have in that love that makes me believe he would never leave me without contact—unless he was in trouble.

  Fear for him slithers like a poisonous snake across my veins but I have to tamper it down because I have one more reason to remain sane, to stay anchored to the belief that Damien will be fine, no matter what. I breathe in deep, letting the familiar hum of the air conditioner soothe my nerves before I slide off the bed. My feet hit the cold marble floor and I head to the other bedroom where I tip toe inside.

  My darling little boy—an angel with his mouth open and a tiny hand clutching his rather overlong hair—is sleeping in his cot. A small smile skates across my lips and my heart warms as I stare at him for a moment before lifting him carefully and putting him on my shoulder. He wriggles for a moment but soon relaxes in my arms, his nose digging into the side of my neck. I inhale his soft, sweet fragrance, and shut my eyes for a few seconds. Rian is ten months old and the love of our lives. Reluctant to let go of him, I hold him for a second longer before I gently tuck him back in his cot and caress his beloved face, so similar to his father.

  My cell phone rings and I run to my room, glancing at the clock that shows it’s three in the morning. I pray fervently that it’s finally him calling. Please God, let that be my husband!

  I lift the cell, scanning the caller id and my shoulders slump.

  “Gabriel!” I breathe into the phone. “Where is Damien? It’s been a week since I heard from him. One whole week with his phone switched off and you giving me a different excuse each time I call. I’m scared, Gabe. You can’t even begin to imagine the thoughts running through my mind.”

  His silence only fuels my fear.

  “Gabe, please,” I plead. “Where is he?”

  “Aaliya, he…he’s been in a car accident!”

  “No! God, no!” I shudder. “Is he-”

  I swallow against the pain in my throat and try again, because I need to know. “Is he fine? Please tell me he’s alive!”

  “Aaliya, he’s fine. He was in a coma for a week. He’s just woken up now.”

  “One week!” I gasp out. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Tears burn my eyes, threatening to spill over. “His trip to London was planned for two days not ten, Gabe. I’ve lived in terror this last week ever since I lost contact with him. You knew how worried I was and yet you fed me with one excuse after the other. How could you keep his accident from me? I deserved to know, Gabe.”

  “Aaliya…”

  “Don’t you dare try and placate me!” I yell, unable to hold it back any longer. “You should’ve called me the minute he was admitted to the hospital.”

  “Aaliya, I’m sorry. I truly am!” His voice comes out broken. “This is hard for me too. I didn’t tell you because he told me to look after you and Rian first if anything happened to him. I never imagined that he’d meet with an accident so soon after. You may not understand this now, Aaliya, but I did this to protect you both.”

  “Protect us from what?”

  Gabe sighs. “How much do you know of the English aristocracy?”

  My fist squeezes tighter around my phone. “I don’t care about the damn English aristocracy. Tell me about Damien. How is he?”

  “Like I said, he’s fine now. He woke up a few hours ago. He’s injured his head, but he will be fine. There’s a lot to tell you, Aaliya. Damien hasn’t told you entir
ely who he was…is.”

  “What do you mean, Gabe? Don’t talk to me in riddles. Besides, I know who he was...” I shake my head. “…he is. I know about his life in England. So, stop trying to tell me something else.”

  I’ve known Gabriel Westcott for as long as I’ve known Damien, which is five years now. He is Damien’s best friend, his business partner and was his best man at our wedding. Since Damien was an orphan, Gabe was also the only person to attend from Damien’s side. This last week he’s given me one excuse after the other regarding the silence from Damien and now he’s feeding me some nonsense about my husband that I refuse to believe.

  “Damn it, Aaliya. You need to listen to me!” Gabe shouts. “Damien is the second son of the Duke of Kittridge. He returned here to England ten days ago not on a business trip, like he told you, but because his father and brother died in a car crash. He came for their funeral and because of his new responsibility. Damien is now the Duke of Kittridge.”

  “No!” I whisper, dropping down on the bed. “That can’t be true. He would have told me. No! I don’t believe you.”

  “Google it. Now! It’s K I T T R I D G E.”

  He spells the word as I grab my laptop and open Google and type the letters. My eyes widen in shock. Oh my God! The cords in my neck strain as I stare at the images on the screen. There are dozens of pictures of Damien. He’s at a funeral. He’s with an older woman. Another picture shows him with his arm around a younger blonde woman, comforting her. Who are these women? What in the hell is going on? I read tweets on him.

  “The new Duke of Kittridge”

  “Missing son returns after five years”

  “The Devil Lord is now the Devil Duke”

  The Internet has the whole history of Damien; it knows things I’ve never known. My Damien is not Damien Alexander, as I’ve always known him; he is Damien Alexander Talbot, now the Duke of Kittridge.

  “How…how is this possible?” My voice trembles. “How could I have not known?”

  “I will explain it all to you, Aaliya. But first, you need to come to London as soon as you can. Can you organize to leave Rian with someone for a few days?”

  “I’ll bring him with me. Damien will want to see him.”

  “Aaliya,” Gabe lowers his tone and my heartbeat accelerates yet again, “he doesn’t remember you. He has no memory of the last five years of his life, which includes Rian and you.”

  Did he just say that? No! It can’t be true. But I know to the core of my being it is true. This is why my instincts have been roaring at me since the last few days. My stomach plummets, the hollowness spreading through every inch of my body. A whimper escapes my mouth and I press a hand on my lips to stop myself from screaming.

  “Aaliya, are you there? Aaliya, please say something.” Gabe’s imploring voice breaks into my spiraling thoughts.

  The tears I’ve so far held at bay flow like a river down my cheeks. I trace a finger down Damien’s handsome face on the laptop screen in front of me and that’s when it finally hits me. The man I’ve loved for the last five years has been someone else. He lied to me about everything. He told me he was an orphan and I believed naively that he didn’t have anyone. But now I know the truth. He has an entire life in England—a family I don’t know of and now…now he’s forgotten me, forgotten our child and our life. I choke down a sob as my heart shatters into a million pieces.

  Another sob threatens to free out of my lips but I can’t breakdown yet. I need answers first. Taking a huge gulp of air, I ask, “If that is his actual life, then what is this here? Him and me…was that ever real? Did he even love me?”

  “Stop right there!” Gabe orders. “Aaliya, you’re his world, you and Rian. In the last five years, he has been the happiest I’ve seen him. I helped him disappear from this life in England that he hated. He abhorred his family. His father was a monster, his brother more so. They were cruel, heartless and powerful. They’d have never accepted you in his life. And that’s one of the main reasons he didn’t tell you about them when he fell in love with you. He wanted to keep you safe. He left that life behind when he came to India five years ago. Meeting you and marrying you was the best thing that ever happened to him. So, don’t think for one second that he didn’t love you.”

  I remain silent, unable to make sense of what I’ve learnt. My life has turned upside down in the space of a few minutes and I don’t know which way is north or south. I scroll through the various entries on the laptop and holy shit there is a Wikipedia entry on Damien! I click on it and glance through details about him, facts I have no clue of. It’s as if I’m reading about a completely new person. In that instant, I know that my marriage as I’ve known it will never be the same again.

  “Aaliya, please. You need to come here. His doctor hopes that seeing you will return his memory.”

  I take a deep breath and then another. There is nothing to decide. Of course, I’m going to go because in the end all my roads will always lead up to Damien. He’s my love. He’s my life!

  “I need a day, Gabe. I’ll be there. Keep him safe for me please.”

  Damien

  London

  A few hours earlier

  The first thing that hits me when I open my eyes is that revolting hospital smell. I hate it! I have always hated it! The word hospital ought to come patented with that typical nausea inducing antiseptic smell.

  The persistent beep of a monitor makes me turn my head to the green lines on its screen. My eyes widen as I scan my surroundings. Bloody hell! I’m on a hospital bed, connected to a heart rate monitor and dozens of other tubes and I have no fucking clue as to why.

  “Thank God! You’re awake. You’re finally awake.” A familiar voice speaks from my side.

  It’s my best friend Gabriel! He’s standing beside me, his expression worried and relieved at the same time. Dark shadows surround his eyes and his clothes are wrinkled. I try to sit up but a sharp pain in my head stops me. A loud wince escapes my lips and Gabe immediately squeezes my shoulder.

  “Don’t, Damien, please. Just lie down. I’m going to fetch a doctor.”

  I shut my eyes and hesitantly touch my head. Sure enough, most of my head is wrapped in bandages. Why am I here? What has happened to me? I can’t for the life of me comprehend what is going on. My mouth opens and closes but no sound comes out of my dry throat.

  Gabe returns with a doctor, Dr. McKenzie from what I can read on his badge. He has a white mop of hair and a somber expression on his face. He shines some light in my eyes and checks my pressure while asking some preliminary questions. How do I feel? Does it hurt anywhere else? Can I feel my arms, my legs? Can I move them etc, etc? I give him answers with nods of my head.

  After he’s done, I take a deep breath and try to speak again, but what comes out is a choked sound. The doctor hands me a glass of water. I take a sip and try again.

  “What happened to me?” I ask, my voice sounding hoarse from un-use for God knows how long.

  Gabe is staring at me, a frown knotted on his brow. “Damien, you were in a car accident. Don’t you remember?”

  An accident? When was I in an accident? Fuck! My mind is a huge empty blank.

  “I don’t recall being in a car accident,” I bark out, “and I don’t have patience for this nonsense. I need some answers, NOW!”

  “Damien, you need to calm down,” Gabe says.

  The doctor takes a step closer to me. “What is the last thing you remember?” he asks.

  I take a moment to think back. “It was my birthday. I was at a coffee shop waiting for Gabe.”

  “What year is it?” Gabe asks me.

  “Gabe…” I start to say but he raises a hand to stop me. “Answer me Damien.”

  “2015”

  His mouth drops open and he turns a helpless look at the doctor.

  “Can someone tell me what the bloody hell is going on?” I finally snap. “What is wrong with my head and why the hell am I on this Godforsaken bed with a dozen machines atta
ched to me?”

  The old doctor shakes his head at my outburst but Gabe is smiling. The angry glare I throw his way does nothing to wipe his grin. He’s the only one I know who has always been unfazed by me. A fleeting memory pops in my mind of someone else, but I can’t catch it. It’s gone before I can exhale on my next breath. Ignoring it, I turn to the doctor waiting for a response from him.

  He takes the glass from me and puts it on the table next to me before he says, “You’ve been in a severe accident that has injured the back of your brain, which means that you may have lost some part of your memory. How much, we’ll have to conduct tests to ascertain. But as of now, it seems that you’re suffering from some form of amnesia.”

  I give him a fierce look.

  “That can’t be true,” I scoff.

  His lips flatten and he crosses his arms in front of him. “With due respect, Your Grace, that is true because the year is 2020 and you seem to be missing five years of your life. I’ll be back to conduct a few tests once you’re settled in with this information.”

  I massage the back of my neck, my thoughts spinning. The doctor exchanges a nod with Gabe before leaving the room and closing the door behind him.

  “Holy Mother of God!” I turn to Gabe. “This is so confusing. Tell me what happened Gabe. No wait, why did the doctor address me as Your Grace?”

  Gabe takes a tentative step forward. “A week ago, you met with an accident. Your car burst into flames as you crashed into a tree. The medics found you a distance away from the burning car. You survived, but with a severe injury to the back of your head. You were operated on and have been in a coma since. And…”

  “Go on,” I urge him as he pauses.

  “Your father and elder brother died ten days ago in another car accident. You are now the Duke of Kittridge.”

  My jaw hits the floor. I try to say something but I can’t. I blink several times, hoping that this is some sort of a dream, but it isn’t because I’m still in the same hospital bed with the same disgusting disinfectant smell permeating my nostrils. Which means what I’ve just been told is true. My hands curl into fists. I put one on my mouth while I force my brain to remember and immediately a sharp pain pulses through my head.