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The city of Udaipur glittered beneath the night sky, royal and untouchable — much like the man standing before the glass wall of the twenty-third floor.

Inder Ranawat stood with his hands in his pockets, shoulders stiff, gaze fixed on the shimmering lake in the distance. The lights reflected on the water like broken stars.

Inside the office, silence reigned.

Heavy. Oppressive.

The kind that comes before a storm.

Behind him, Yash Goenka watched his best friend with visible frustration. He had known Inder for fifteen years. He had seen him ruthless in boardrooms, calm in crises, and stone-faced in betrayals.

But tonight, something was different.

“Are you really going forward with this, Inder?”

The question hung in the air.

Inder didn’t respond immediately. His jaw tightened slightly before he answered.

“Do I have a choice?”

The sarcasm in his voice was razor sharp.

“There is always a choice. You Are not some helpless teenager being forced into submission. You are Inder Ranawat.” Yash said sharply.

A dry chuckle escaped Inder’s lips. He finally turned around.

“Yes,” he said coldly. “I am Inder Ranawat. Which is exactly why I don’t have a choice.”

“Talk to your Dada ji again. Make him understand. He respects strength. Show him you won’t be bullied.” Yash frowned. 

“You think I didn’t try?” Inder’s eyes flashed.

His voice rose — not loud, but edged with suppressed anger.

“I have tried reasoning. I have tried logic. I have tried to remind him who expanded Ranawat Enterprises into international markets. Who doubled profits in five years. Who revived dying subsidiaries. But none of that matters.”

He walked toward his desk, fingers pressing against the polished wood.

“All that matters to him is tradition. A Ranawat heir must be married before twenty-eight. Or he forfeits his right to the legacy.”

“It’s a bluff.” Yash shook his head. 

“It’s not.”

The firmness in Inder’s tone silenced the room.

“There is one week left for my twenty-eighth birthday,” Inder continued. “Seven days. If I am not married by then, the board will execute the succession clause.”

“And you think he will give everything to Mihir?” Yash scoffed. “That spoiled, arrogant—”

“Yes,” Inder cut in. “I do.”

The air grew tense.

“He is also Dada ji’s legitimate grandson from a stable household,” Inder said bitterly. “The perfect picture. Meanwhile, I am the emotionally distant, rebellious elder one.”

“You built that company from scratch. The one that your father almost ruined.” Yash stared at him. 

“I rebuilt it,” Inder corrected. “And that makes it even easier to take away. Because legally… it still belongs to the Ranawat trust.”

Silence stretched between them.

“So this is it? You are going to sacrifice your entire life for a clause in a will?” Yash stepped closer. 

Inder’s eyes hardened.

“I sacrificed my childhood,” he said quietly. “I sacrificed friendships, relationships, everything — to prove myself worthy of that name. I will not let Mihir inherit what I built with my blood.”

At the mention of Mihir, something dark flickered in his eyes.

Mihir — charming in public, poisonous in private.

Vaishali’s perfect son.

“But marriage, Inder… marriage isn’t a chess move.” Yash softened his tone. 

Inder moved to the bar counter and poured himself a drink. He stared at the amber liquid but didn’t sip.

“It is when emotions are removed.”

“That’s impossible.”

“No,” Inder said calmly. “It’s practical.”

“Purvi is not right for you. I have met her. She’s ambitious, calculating. There’s no warmth.” Yash ran a hand through his hair in frustration.

“Exactly,” Inder replied.

“What?” Yash blinked. 

“I don’t need warmth. I need cooperation.”

The words fell flat.

“I chose Purvi because she understands the arrangement,” Inder continued. “A platonic marriage. One year. Separate rooms. Separate lives. Public appearances when required. After that, I will compensate her generously. She is free to walk away with dignity.”

Yash stared at him as if trying to find a crack in his armor.

“That’s not marriage,” he said quietly. “That’s a contract.”

Inder finally took a sip of his drink.

“Marriage is a contract,” he said. “People just decorate it with emotions to make it look sacred.”

“You don’t believe that.” Yash’s voice dropped. 

Inder’s gaze turned icy.

“Oh really? You married for love, didn’t you?”

The words were calm. Too calm.

Yash stiffened.

“And how is that working out for you?” Inder asked, arching a brow.

The question struck home.

Yash’s expression faltered.

He loved. He had fought for that love. He had defied his own family.

And now his marriage was hanging by fragile threads of misunderstandings and ego clashes.

Inder noticed the pain immediately.

A flicker of regret crossed his face.

“Sorry,” he muttered, looking away. “That was uncalled for.”

“It’s fine.” Yash swallowed and nodded. 

But it wasn’t.

Inder placed the glass down with controlled force.

“I am not mocking love,” he said after a pause. “I just… don’t trust it.”

The vulnerability in his voice was brief. Almost invisible.

Yash caught it.

“This isn’t just about the company, is it?” Yash asked softly.

Inder didn’t answer.

But his mind drifted.

To his mother.

Jhanvi Ranawat.

Her laughter echoing through palace corridors.

Her fingers combing through his hair.

Gone too soon.

Then came Vaishali.

Sweet words. Sharp intentions.

A new family.

A new hierarchy.

A new loneliness.

“I learned early,” Inder said quietly, “that love can be replaced. Business cannot.”

Yash’s chest tightened.

“You deserve better than a loveless marriage,” he said firmly.

Inder’s expression turned resolute again. The walls were back up.

“I deserve security,” he replied. “And control.”

“And what about happiness?”

Inder gave him a faint, almost mocking smile.

“Happiness is temporary. Power is permanent.”

The words sounded rehearsed. Defensive.

“You are walking into a cage.” Yash shook his head slowly. 

“No,” Inder corrected. “I am building a shield.”

There was a long pause.

Finally, Inder straightened.

“This discussion is over. The wedding announcement will be made tomorrow.”

Yash studied him for a moment.

Inder Ranawat looked invincible.

Tailored suit. Cold composure. Calculated decisions.

But Yash knew the boy who once waited at the palace gates for a father who never showed up to school events.

He knew the teenager who buried his grief in ambition.

He knew the man who feared losing everything — again.

“You are making the biggest mistake of your life,” Yash said quietly.

“Maybe,” Inder replied.

Then his gaze hardened.

“But it’s a mistake I choose.”

Outside, the night deepened.

Yash watched his best friend — the most powerful man in the room — and for the first time, he didn’t see strength.

He saw a man walking into a cage of his own making.

And somewhere in the silent night, destiny smiled.

Because Inder Ranawat thought he was about to marry Purvi.

He had no idea…

That love was already preparing to enter his life.

Uninvited.

Uncontrolled.

Unavoidable.

A/N

Hi guys, I am starting to post my new book..

Please do post comments and motivate me to write..

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