21-03-2026, 08:03 PM
Chapter 25: Biggest Truth got revealed: The protector and Offender are same
Jeeva sat on the sofa, the flat silent except for the low hum of the ceiling fan and the distant sound of kids playing outside.
He inserted the pen drive.
Clicked “A”.
The folder opened — a long list of subfolders, each named by month, going back years.
January 2022.
March 2023.
July 2024.
October 2025.
He opened the most recent one — March 2026.
Photos. Dozens.
All of Anandhi.
Hidden camera angles — from Suriya’s flat window, from the corridor monitor, from the rooftop.
Anandhi walking to college — saree swaying, hips rolling gently, pallu slipping just enough to show the soft curve of her waist.
Anandhi bending to pick up Riya — cleavage glimpsed, the deep valley between her 34D breasts briefly exposed, nipples faintly outlined through the blouse.
Anandhi laughing with the kids — lips parted, hair loose, the graceful line of her neck.
Anandhi reaching high for a shelf — saree clinging to her ass, the fabric stretched tight over rounded curves.
Every photo zoomed — her hips, her cleavage, her hair, her lips.
No nudes. No explicit shots.
But the obsession was clear.
Suriya had been collecting her — piece by piece — for years.
Jeeva’s cock throbbed — sudden, violent, the chemical storm flaring at the sight of her body captured like this. He shifted uncomfortably, the head of his cock leaking against his boxers.
He closed the folder.
His eyes flicked to “A Target”.
He clicked.
It opened.
The first video — grainy, timestamped three years ago.
Annual day function at the college.
John — tall, wiry, politician smile — following Anandhi into the principal’s room.
The door closes.
Minutes pass.
Then — a masked figure bursts in.
Tall. Broad. Moving like Suriya.
He grabs John from behind — wooden stick in hand — cracks it across John’s back.
John stumbles, turns, tries to pull the mask off.
The figure slams him against the wall — stick swinging again — not to kill, but to hurt.
John crumples.
The masked man flees.
The video cuts.
Jeeva remembered John’s story to Sam and Kiran — “I almost had her… something fell… I ran… she was gone when I came back.”
Truth: John was attacked.
The “something” was Suriya — masked, protecting her.
Another folder — VIP politician.
Documents — corruption papers, bank transfers, photos of him with multiple women in compromising positions.
A typed warning letter:
“Stay away from Anandhi. One more move and these go public.”
Signed anonymously.
Footage — VIP with women, laughing, groping — clearly blackmail material.
Next folder — Sam.
A video — Sam blindfolded, tied to a chair.
Suriya’s voice off-camera — low, cold.
“You touched her once. Never again.”
Stick cracks across Sam’s shoulders.
Sam pleads.
The video ends with him sobbing.
Last folder — Kiran.
Kiran with a land dealer — faking documents.
Kiran begging Suriya — “Don’t reveal my name… please…”
Sam and Kiran video were taken just a week back.
All these days Jeeva thought its because of his video proof, the trio didnt take a move, but he now knows its because of Suriya and the VIP politician, biggest enemey they cannot offend, Suriya protected her from him.
Jeeva closed the laptop.
The sexual mood vanished.
He sat stunned.
Anandhi had said the lady’s daughter (the cop) took care of her issues.
But this… this was Suriya.
Suriya had been guarding her — silently, violently — for years.
Beating back threats.
Collecting evidence.
Blackmailing harassers.
But the “A” folder… the obsession… the stolen kisses on her bra…
Creepy. Dangerous.
A man who protected her — but also possessed her in secret.
Jeeva’s mind reeled.
Suriya wasn’t the enemy.
He was the shield.
But the shield had cracks — lust, obsession, hidden cameras.
Minutes passed.
Then — heavy knocking.
Three sharp raps.
Then three more.
Jeeva stood — heart pounding — and opened the door.
Suriya stood there — eyes blazing, fists clenched.
“Why the hell did you enter my house?” I know something is wrong, i checked CCTV and you had entered my house.
Why Tell me!
He grabbed Jeeva’s collar — yanking him forward.
Jeeva didn’t flinch.
He looked Suriya straight in the eye — voice calm, cold.
“To catch your perversion and obsession with Anandhi.”
Suriya froze — hand slowly withdrawing from the collar — but the intensity in his eyes stayed, burning.
Jeeva sat on the sofa, the flat silent except for the low hum of the ceiling fan and the distant sound of kids playing outside.
He inserted the pen drive.
Clicked “A”.
The folder opened — a long list of subfolders, each named by month, going back years.
January 2022.
March 2023.
July 2024.
October 2025.
He opened the most recent one — March 2026.
Photos. Dozens.
All of Anandhi.
Hidden camera angles — from Suriya’s flat window, from the corridor monitor, from the rooftop.
Anandhi walking to college — saree swaying, hips rolling gently, pallu slipping just enough to show the soft curve of her waist.
Anandhi bending to pick up Riya — cleavage glimpsed, the deep valley between her 34D breasts briefly exposed, nipples faintly outlined through the blouse.
Anandhi laughing with the kids — lips parted, hair loose, the graceful line of her neck.
Anandhi reaching high for a shelf — saree clinging to her ass, the fabric stretched tight over rounded curves.
Every photo zoomed — her hips, her cleavage, her hair, her lips.
No nudes. No explicit shots.
But the obsession was clear.
Suriya had been collecting her — piece by piece — for years.
Jeeva’s cock throbbed — sudden, violent, the chemical storm flaring at the sight of her body captured like this. He shifted uncomfortably, the head of his cock leaking against his boxers.
He closed the folder.
His eyes flicked to “A Target”.
He clicked.
It opened.
The first video — grainy, timestamped three years ago.
Annual day function at the college.
John — tall, wiry, politician smile — following Anandhi into the principal’s room.
The door closes.
Minutes pass.
Then — a masked figure bursts in.
Tall. Broad. Moving like Suriya.
He grabs John from behind — wooden stick in hand — cracks it across John’s back.
John stumbles, turns, tries to pull the mask off.
The figure slams him against the wall — stick swinging again — not to kill, but to hurt.
John crumples.
The masked man flees.
The video cuts.
Jeeva remembered John’s story to Sam and Kiran — “I almost had her… something fell… I ran… she was gone when I came back.”
Truth: John was attacked.
The “something” was Suriya — masked, protecting her.
Another folder — VIP politician.
Documents — corruption papers, bank transfers, photos of him with multiple women in compromising positions.
A typed warning letter:
“Stay away from Anandhi. One more move and these go public.”
Signed anonymously.
Footage — VIP with women, laughing, groping — clearly blackmail material.
Next folder — Sam.
A video — Sam blindfolded, tied to a chair.
Suriya’s voice off-camera — low, cold.
“You touched her once. Never again.”
Stick cracks across Sam’s shoulders.
Sam pleads.
The video ends with him sobbing.
Last folder — Kiran.
Kiran with a land dealer — faking documents.
Kiran begging Suriya — “Don’t reveal my name… please…”
Sam and Kiran video were taken just a week back.
All these days Jeeva thought its because of his video proof, the trio didnt take a move, but he now knows its because of Suriya and the VIP politician, biggest enemey they cannot offend, Suriya protected her from him.
Jeeva closed the laptop.
The sexual mood vanished.
He sat stunned.
Anandhi had said the lady’s daughter (the cop) took care of her issues.
But this… this was Suriya.
Suriya had been guarding her — silently, violently — for years.
Beating back threats.
Collecting evidence.
Blackmailing harassers.
But the “A” folder… the obsession… the stolen kisses on her bra…
Creepy. Dangerous.
A man who protected her — but also possessed her in secret.
Jeeva’s mind reeled.
Suriya wasn’t the enemy.
He was the shield.
But the shield had cracks — lust, obsession, hidden cameras.
Minutes passed.
Then — heavy knocking.
Three sharp raps.
Then three more.
Jeeva stood — heart pounding — and opened the door.
Suriya stood there — eyes blazing, fists clenched.
“Why the hell did you enter my house?” I know something is wrong, i checked CCTV and you had entered my house.
Why Tell me!
He grabbed Jeeva’s collar — yanking him forward.
Jeeva didn’t flinch.
He looked Suriya straight in the eye — voice calm, cold.
“To catch your perversion and obsession with Anandhi.”
Suriya froze — hand slowly withdrawing from the collar — but the intensity in his eyes stayed, burning.
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