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The wedding was planned deliberately simple.

No elephants.
No royal procession.
No media.

Just close family, a sacred fire, and a deadline.

Inder Ranawat stood in his chamber, dressed in an ivory sherwani, the fabric embroidered with restrained elegance. He looked every bit the royal heir — composed, distant, unapproachable.

Inside, he felt nothing.

“So,” Yash said from the couch, arms crossed. “You are really doing this, huh?”

Inder didn’t even look at him.

“Not this conversation again.”

“I just wish Bhairav was here. He would have knocked some sense into you.” Yash stood up, agitation evident. 

A shadow crossed Inder’s face.

They had always been three — Inder, Yash, Bhairav. Unbreakable. But Bhairav was drowning in personal chaos of his own, unable to attend.

“Nobody would have stopped me,” Inder said flatly.

Before Yash could argue further, loud, frantic knocking rattled the door.

Inder’s eyes sharpened.

He opened it to find Vinay, his PA, breathless, pale, drenched in sweat.

“What is it?” Inder asked quietly.

“It’s… it’s all ruined, sir.” Vinay swallowed. 

A strange calm settled over Inder.

“What is ruined?”

“Please come with me.”

Vinay didn’t wait. He hurried down the corridor.

Inder and Yash exchanged a glance before following.

Each step toward the great hall felt heavier.

And then—

Inder stopped.

The sight before him froze his blood.

Purvi stood in the center of the grand hall.

Already wearing a flower garland.

A mangalsutra rested against her throat.

Sindoor filled the parting of her hair.

Married.

His bride.

Married.

“What the hell is going on here?!” Rajveer Ranawat’s thunderous voice echoed against the marble walls.

But Inder didn’t need explanations.

He saw it clearly.

Vaishali stood slightly behind Mihir, one hand theatrically covering her mouth.

Mihir stood beside Purvi — holding her hand.

And smiling.

The strike had come.

At the final moment.

Strategic. Calculated.

Mihir suddenly stepped forward and fell to his knees before Rajveer.

“Dada sa… forgive me!”

“Explain yourself!” Rajveer’s face darkened.

Mihir’s voice trembled — a performance perfected over years.

“Purvi and I… we fell in love.”

A collective gasp rippled through the room.

“We tried to ignore it,” Mihir continued emotionally. “For Bhai’s sake. For the family’s honour. But today… when I saw her dressed as another man’s bride…”

He turned to look at Purvi with exaggerated devotion.

“I couldn’t lose her. I will die without her, Dada sa.”

Inder felt something inside him snap.

Not heartbreak.

Not pain.

Rage.

Cold. Controlled. Lethal.

Five years.

Five years of relentless work. Sleepless nights. Strategic expansion. Negotiations across continents.

All balanced on one condition.

Marriage before twenty-eight.

Tomorrow he turned twenty-eight.

And today—

This.

He clenched his fists behind his back.

He would lose everything.

Everything.

His grandfather’s faith. The board’s approval. His legal claim.

All handed over to Mihir.

That incompetent, entitled parasite.

“Forgive my son, Papa sa,” Vaishali stepped forward, wiping imaginary tears. “He is just a young boy in love. What does he know about traditions? About sacrifices?”

Her voice trembled perfectly.

“He shouldn’t have fallen in love with his elder brother’s bride-to-be. But love is blind…”

Durga’s eyes burned with undisguised hatred.

Rajveer looked ready to explode.

“You have brought shame upon this family!” He roared at Mihir. “You steal your brother’s bride on his wedding day?!”

Mihir lowered his head obediently.

“Punish me if you must, Dada sa. But don’t separate us.”

Purvi remained silent.

But the faint smirk tugging at her lips did not go unnoticed by Inder.

“Is this true?” Rajveer turned to her. 

“I… I love Mihir.” Purvi nodded meekly.

Inder almost laughed.

Love.

The same woman who had negotiated a one-year contract marriage without blinking.

Rajveer paced furiously.

“This is unacceptable!”

“What would be more unacceptable, Papa sa?” Vaishali interjected softly. “Two people in love being forced apart? Or correcting a mistake before it is too late?”

Silence fell.

Rajveer looked at Inder.

For the first time since entering the hall.

Inder stood tall.

Unmoving.

Expression blank.

Inside, however—

It felt like the ground beneath him had been ripped away.

If Rajveer accepted this marriage…

The succession clause would activate.

Mihir — now married before twenty eight — would legally qualify as heir, when Inder remained unmarried after twenty eight.

Ranawat Enterprises.

Gone.

Five years.

Gone.

Rajveer closed his eyes briefly.

Then, with visible reluctance, he said, “If the rituals are done… the marriage stands.”

A sharp inhale filled the hall.

Mihir looked up, victorious.

“What about Inder?” Vaishali asked softly, pretending concern. “He turns twenty-eight tomorrow…”

Durga’s glare could have sliced steel.

Rajveer opened his mouth.

He was about to speak.

About to withdraw the ultimatum.

But Durga’s voice cut through the air.

“The tradition cannot be changed.”

The hall fell silent.

“A Ranawat heir must be married before he turns twenty-eight.”

Shock rippled through everyone.

Inder’s head snapped toward his grandmother.

Betrayal flared in his eyes.

Dadi sa?

Of all people?

Durga’s face remained calm. Unreadable.

Inside her mind, however, another face flashed.

Laughing.

Fearless.

Asking about eligible princes.

Damini.

Perhaps fate had intervened for a reason.

She had until midnight tomorrow.

She would find a way.

One way or another.

Rajveer stared at his wife in disbelief.

But he said nothing.

One by one, family members dispersed.

Whispers filled the corridors.

Soon, only five people remained in the hall.

Inder.

Yash.

Vaishali.

Mihir.

Purvi.

The silence turned poisonous.

Purvi stepped closer to Mihir.

Her smirk is no longer hidden.

Inder had offered her one year.

A platonic marriage.

Limited compensation.

Limited status.

Mihir had offered a lifetime.

Full title.

Full access.

Why settle for temporary royalty when she could be a princess permanently?

Vaishali dropped her grieving act instantly.

Her spine straightened.

Her eyes turned cold.

“Well,” she said smoothly, “that worked out beautifully.”

Yash stiffened.

Inder remained still.

Mihir grinned openly now.

“You should see your face, Bhai sa.”

Inder finally spoke.

“You planned this.”

It wasn’t a question.

“Oh please. Don’t sound so shocked. You underestimate us far too often.” Vaishali chuckled softly. 

Mihir stepped forward.

“You always thought you were smarter. More capable. More deserving.”

His voice lowered.

“But in the end… you were predictable.”

Inder’s jaw tightened.

“You knew about the ultimatum,” Mihir continued. “You were desperate. You needed a bride.”

“Purvi simply reconsidered her options.” Vaishali added casually.

“Business decisions, Inder. You taught me well.” Purvi smiled sweetly. 

Venom coated every word.

“You double crossed me,” Inder said coldly.

“You offered me a year. Mihir offered me forever.” Purvi tilted her head. 

Mihir’s eyes gleamed maliciously.

“And tomorrow, Dada sa will have no choice.”

Vaishali’s voice dropped to a whisper.

“The board respects tradition.”

“You manipulated the situation!” Yash stepped forward angrily. 

Vaishali laughed.

“Manipulated? No. We seized the opportunity.”

Mihir leaned closer to Inder.

“You built the company, yes,” he murmured. “But I will inherit it.”

Inder didn’t move.

“You will watch,” Mihir continued softly, “as everything you worked for… carries my name.”

The words struck like a dagger.

Five years of blood and ambition.

Handed to a man who had never earned a thing.

“You should have married earlier, Inder. Pride is expensive.” Vaishali’s eyes glittered cruelly.

Inder finally looked at her directly.

And for the first time—

There was no restraint in his gaze.

“Enjoy tonight,” he said quietly.

“Oh, I will.” Mihir smirked. 

“After all, tomorrow belongs to us.” Vaishali smiled coldly. 

They turned and walked away.

Leaving Inder standing in the center of the hall.

Alone.

Humiliated.

Cornered.

A/N

Hi guys... I am doing better. My baby boy is getting better, masha Allah. He is still in the NICU, but improving well. Thank you all for asking. I couldn't respond to each comment.. Keep us in your prayers..

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