Hello, Mr. Major General (1)

Chapter 185 - Purge

Truth be told, although Deepika had been negligent in her duty and had intentionally delayed Rita’s treatment, it was a massive exaggeration to call it “abuse.”

But Shehnaaz was gunning for maximum dramatic effect, and had therefore deliberately phrased it to make it sound like Deepika had been abusing Rita.

Deepika’s gaze swept across the living room, taking in the shocked expressions on some of the guests. She grew nervous, and dropped her soft-spoken, demure “I’m a victim” act in her panic.

She said loudly, “How did I abuse her? Spit it out, right now! I—”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. You’re not the one on trial today, we’ll deal with your mess later.” Shehnaaz waved Deepika away disdainfully, as though she were an annoying fly.

Deepika was so angry she saw white. The color immediately drained from her face. Even her lips, usually a pretty cherry red, had turned gray; she looked increasingly pitiful with each passing minute.

Rita smiled as she gently patted Shehnaaz’s hand, before turning to look Deepika in the eye. “I’ll let bygones be bygones; I can overlook the way you treated me. Those letters, however, are a different matter. Deepika, where did those letters come from? Did you really get them from your
mother? Don’t you want to get to the bottom of your mother’s death?”

Deepika calmed down. She gave Rita an odd look as she said in a low voice: “Madam Rita, my mother killed herself because of you, and that’s a fact. Don’t bother trying to prove otherwise.”

“Is that so?” Rita looked at her calmly. “Deepika, I will ask you one more time: those letters, where did you get them?”

“Do you really want to know?” Deepika rolled her eyes. “They were from my mother, of course.”

Shehnaaz immediately asked: “When did you discover them? Do you remember the exact moment?”

“Of course I remember. It’s been 10 years, but I still remember it like it was yesterday.” Deepika grew agitated in her anger. “I had just returned home from school. I went to my mother’s room to talk to her. But when I opened the door, there she was, lying on the bed, stiff as a cardboard. Her body was already cold, and beside her hand were those
disgusting love letters! Tell me, why would my mother choose to kill herself, if it wasn’t because this harlot here seduced my father?!” Deepika extended a hand and pointed an accusing finger in Rita’s face.

Shehnaaz pushed her arm away. She calmly said: “So what you’re saying is that you found the letters right after your mother died.”

“That is correct.”

“And you exposed them, right away?”

“Of course. Why should I cover for Rita? She made her bed, so she has to lie in it. So what if she was mentally impaired? She still has to face the consequences. It’s a good thing my uncle is an intelligent man. He saw the truth, and immediately filed for divorce.” Deepika spoke eloquently; she had recollected herself, and was back to her usual haughty self.

Shehnaaz smiled. She had been waiting for Deepika to let her guard down and start talking. It would have been a lot more difficult for Shehnaaz to find the holes in her story had Deepika decided to remain silent as part of her “I’m too delicate for this” act. She calmly asked: “Did you mother ever tell you about the
letters when she was alive?”

Deepika hesitated for a moment. Her eyelashes flickered uncertainly, and her gaze began to drift.

“Please answer the question: when your mother was alive, did she mention the letters to you? You just have to answer yes or no.” Shehnaaz repeated her question patiently; she was determined to get some answers, and she would repeat her question a thousand times if necessary.