13-04-2026, 12:26 PM
Chapter 100: The Detachment
Rahul sat beside Anandhi on the bed that night, gently rubbing her back as she cried silently after Suriya was taken away by the security officer.
“Anandhi… listen to me,” he said in a calm, soothing voice. “Suriya was not careful in the business. That’s why he is facing all this. I was managing things remotely, guiding him at every step, but he became overconfident. He spoiled his own reputation. Now, as an entity, we have no choice but to detach his unit. It’s a policy matter. Neither I nor Madhavan wanted it to come to this. When he gets out of prison, we’ll figure out how we can help him.”
Anandhi couldn’t really hear what Rahul was saying. His words felt distant, rehearsed, and cold. Her doubt had grown into something much heavier. She hated how Rahul had turned so calculated and ruthless… yet she still loved him. The contradiction tore at her.
She suddenly looked up at him, her eyes red but voice strong.
“Did you or Madhavan have anything to do with this?”
Rahul didn’t flinch. His expression remained steady. “No. I had no idea it would go this far.”
Anandhi stared at him for a long moment. Her doubt had multiplied. She took a deep breath and spoke clearly.
“See, I will never hate you. But if you are doing all this because you feel he might take me away… I promise you, I’m telling you clearly — I won’t slip. I chose you.”
Rahul’s face hardened. He shut her down sharply.
“No. You have to trust me.”
The conversation ended there, hanging heavy in the air.
The next morning, Rohan came running again with another newspaper.
“Amma! Appa, Periyappa, and Madhavan Thatha’s photos are in the paper!”
Anandhi took the newspaper with trembling hands. It carried a public announcement from RMS Enterprises:
“We hereby announce the complete detachment of Suriya’s fitness vertical from RMS Group. Recent events have revealed multiple fraudulent activities committed by Mr. Suriya. As responsible partners, we have decided to sever all associations with immediate effect. These are three independent entities, and RMS Group has no involvement in the ongoing cases. We cannot comment further as the matter is sub-judice. Our partners cannot afford to go cheap. We hope justice prevails and Mr. Suriya comes out clean.”
The statement was carefully worded — safe, professional, and advised by Madhavan to avoid any enmity or legal backlash.
Anandhi was shaken to her core.
As days turned into weeks and then months, there was no further news about Suriya. The cases dragged on slowly. Five months passed in painful silence. No updates. No visits. Nothing.
On AaRa’s first birthday, the family took photos together — smiling, laughing, looking like the perfect unit. That night, after everyone slept, Anandhi sat alone in the dark bedroom, holding AaRa’s photo, and cried bitterly.
“I’m so sorry, Suriya…” she whispered through her tears. “I’m so sorry…”
Rahul, who had woken up, noticed her crying. He sat up and pulled her into his arms, but his voice carried a sharp edge.
“Enough, Anandhi. Leave his thoughts. He is gone for good.”
The business the issue, he reaps what he sows.
She remained silent.
Rahul continued, his tone firmer, “I had no part in any of this. You have to believe me.”
Anandhi didn’t argue. She simply nodded, wiping her tears.
But deep inside, she knew the truth was far more complicated than Rahul wanted her to believe.
And the guilt of staying silent — of choosing peace over justice — was slowly eating her alive.
Rahul sat beside Anandhi on the bed that night, gently rubbing her back as she cried silently after Suriya was taken away by the security officer.
“Anandhi… listen to me,” he said in a calm, soothing voice. “Suriya was not careful in the business. That’s why he is facing all this. I was managing things remotely, guiding him at every step, but he became overconfident. He spoiled his own reputation. Now, as an entity, we have no choice but to detach his unit. It’s a policy matter. Neither I nor Madhavan wanted it to come to this. When he gets out of prison, we’ll figure out how we can help him.”
Anandhi couldn’t really hear what Rahul was saying. His words felt distant, rehearsed, and cold. Her doubt had grown into something much heavier. She hated how Rahul had turned so calculated and ruthless… yet she still loved him. The contradiction tore at her.
She suddenly looked up at him, her eyes red but voice strong.
“Did you or Madhavan have anything to do with this?”
Rahul didn’t flinch. His expression remained steady. “No. I had no idea it would go this far.”
Anandhi stared at him for a long moment. Her doubt had multiplied. She took a deep breath and spoke clearly.
“See, I will never hate you. But if you are doing all this because you feel he might take me away… I promise you, I’m telling you clearly — I won’t slip. I chose you.”
Rahul’s face hardened. He shut her down sharply.
“No. You have to trust me.”
The conversation ended there, hanging heavy in the air.
The next morning, Rohan came running again with another newspaper.
“Amma! Appa, Periyappa, and Madhavan Thatha’s photos are in the paper!”
Anandhi took the newspaper with trembling hands. It carried a public announcement from RMS Enterprises:
“We hereby announce the complete detachment of Suriya’s fitness vertical from RMS Group. Recent events have revealed multiple fraudulent activities committed by Mr. Suriya. As responsible partners, we have decided to sever all associations with immediate effect. These are three independent entities, and RMS Group has no involvement in the ongoing cases. We cannot comment further as the matter is sub-judice. Our partners cannot afford to go cheap. We hope justice prevails and Mr. Suriya comes out clean.”
The statement was carefully worded — safe, professional, and advised by Madhavan to avoid any enmity or legal backlash.
Anandhi was shaken to her core.
As days turned into weeks and then months, there was no further news about Suriya. The cases dragged on slowly. Five months passed in painful silence. No updates. No visits. Nothing.
On AaRa’s first birthday, the family took photos together — smiling, laughing, looking like the perfect unit. That night, after everyone slept, Anandhi sat alone in the dark bedroom, holding AaRa’s photo, and cried bitterly.
“I’m so sorry, Suriya…” she whispered through her tears. “I’m so sorry…”
Rahul, who had woken up, noticed her crying. He sat up and pulled her into his arms, but his voice carried a sharp edge.
“Enough, Anandhi. Leave his thoughts. He is gone for good.”
The business the issue, he reaps what he sows.
She remained silent.
Rahul continued, his tone firmer, “I had no part in any of this. You have to believe me.”
Anandhi didn’t argue. She simply nodded, wiping her tears.
But deep inside, she knew the truth was far more complicated than Rahul wanted her to believe.
And the guilt of staying silent — of choosing peace over justice — was slowly eating her alive.
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