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The palace was unusually restless.

Whispers floated through corridors like invisible birds. Servants huddled in corners. Doors opened and shut in urgency. Even the chandeliers seemed to tremble with gossip.

Damini Malhotra was very much alive for it.

She sat cross-legged on the rug in her allocated chamber, sketching fountain layouts, when rapid footsteps approached.

A soft knock.

“Come in,” Damini called casually.

Swati — one of the younger maids — slipped inside, eyes wide, breath uneven. 

“Did you hear?” Swati whispered dramatically.

Damini’s head snapped up.

“Hear what? Did someone faint? Did the groom run away? Did the bride elope with a guard?”

“No!” Swati blinked. 

“Oh.” Damini looked slightly disappointed. 

“Something bigger happened!”

Now she was interested.

Damini set her pencil aside and leaned forward eagerly.

“Tell me everything. Leave no detail behind.”

Swati lowered her voice like she was narrating a crime thriller.

“Younger Rana Sa… he stole elder Rana Sa’s bride.”

Damini gasped.

Then she grinned.

“Excuse me? You are saying the younger brother kidnapped the bride mid-ritual?”

“They are already married!” Swati said breathlessly. “With garland and sindoor and everything!”

“Woah. That is cinematic.” Damini clutched her chest dramatically.

“Now Inder Rana Sa will lose everything he worked hard for.” Swati nodded gravely. 

Damini’s grin slowly faded.

“Wait,” she said, straightening. “Lose everything? Why?”

“You don’t know?” Swati blinked. 

“No one updates the landscape artist on royal scandals,” Damini replied seriously. “Please correct that injustice.”

Swati glanced at the door, then continued.

“There is a condition. Inder Rana Sa must be married before he turns twenty-eight. Tomorrow is his birthday. If he isn’t married by then… the business goes to Mihir Rana Sa.”

Damini’s brows shot up.

“That escalated quickly.”

“Yes,” Swati nodded. “And Mihir Rana Sa got married today. So now…”

Damini’s brain was already racing.

“Wait,” she interrupted. “They are real brothers? Or are they cousins with rivalry or something like that?”

Swati shook her head.

“No. Half brothers. From different mothers.”

Damini stilled.

“That,” she said slowly, “is new information.”

Swati’s voice softened.

“Inder Rana Sa’s mother — Jhanvi rani sa— my dadi says she was a beautiful soul. She treated everyone equally. Even the staff. She remembered birthdays. She would visit the kitchen and taste the food herself and sometimes even helps in the kitchen.”

Damini’s expression shifted slightly.

“And Vaishali?” She asked quietly.

Swati’s lips tightened.

“She is… not like that.”

Translation understood.

“I am sure this was planned,” Swati whispered. “They waited until the last moment. Now Inder Rana Sa will lose everything he built.”

There was genuine sadness in the girl’s voice.

Damini didn’t respond immediately.

She leaned back slowly, staring at the ceiling.

Half brothers.

Ultimatum.

Deadline at midnight tomorrow.

Bride stolen.

Business on the line.

And somewhere in her brain, two neon signs flashed:

TIARA.
ADVENTURE.

Her lips curved.

“Oh,” she murmured softly.

“Oh?” Swati looked confused. 

Damini suddenly sat up.

“So let me summarise,” she said, counting on her fingers. “Handsome royal heir. Betrayed on wedding day. Evil stepmother. Manipulative half brother. Deadline ticking. Throne at stake.”

Swati nodded hesitantly.

Damini’s eyes sparkled.

“This is not a tragedy.”

“It’s not?” Swati frowned.

“This,” Damini declared dramatically, “is a plot.”

“Plot?” Swati looked thoroughly lost now.

Damini stood up in one fluid motion.

“Yes. Fate has literally arranged the stage. And everyone is crying about it.”

Swati stared at her like she had grown wings.

“Rana Sa will lose everything,” she repeated softly.

Damini walked to the mirror and looked at herself thoughtfully.

“Not if he doesn’t.”

“What?” Swati blinked. 

Damini turned slowly, mischief dancing in her emerald green eyes. Swati stared into those beautiful eyes for a moment, too lost. Swati was the only person in this place to have seen Damini’s eyes. She always wears a brown lens, hiding her beautiful eyes.

“What if,” she said casually, “he finds a bride before midnight tomorrow?”

Swati’s jaw dropped.

“But… who would marry him in one day?”

Damini tapped her chin thoughtfully.

“Someone brave.”

She smiled.

“Someone spontaneous.”

She tilted her head.

“Someone who likes both tiaras and chaos.”

“You?” Swati gasped.

Damini placed a finger over her lips.

“Shhh.”

“You are mad.” Swati stared at her in horror. 

“Correct.” Damini grinned widely.

“This is Ranawat Palace! Not a movie!” Swati shook her head vigorously. 

“Every palace is a movie. Most people are just too scared to improvise.” Damini leaned closer conspiratorially.

Swati didn’t know whether to laugh or run.

“I should go,” she muttered, clearly overwhelmed.

“Yes, go,” Damini waved lightly. “And if anyone asks, you never saw me thinking.”

Swati rushed out.

The door closed.

Silence filled the room.

Damini began pacing.

Step. Turn. Step. Turn.

“This is insane,” she muttered to herself.

Then she grinned.

“Which is exactly why it’s perfect.”

She imagined it.

Marrying a royal heir overnight.

Saving his empire.

Outsmarting the evil stepmother.

Securing a legitimate tiara.

And possibly reforming a brooding, emotionally unavailable prince.

She clasped her hands dramatically.

“Dear universe,” she whispered, “you are spoiling me.”

She stopped pacing.

Decision made.

Without another second of hesitation, Damini slipped into her sandals, wore her brown lens, opened her door quietly, and stepped into the dimly lit corridor.

The palace has grown quieter now.

The scandal had retreated into closed chambers.

Perfect.

She walked lightly, almost stealthily.

Twenty-five minutes.

Left wing.

Right wing.

Wrong corridor.

Two near-collisions with guards.

One accidental detour toward the kitchen.

Finally—

She stood before a grand wooden door.

Carved. Heavy. Intimidating.

She read the engraved brass plate.

INDER RANAWAT

Her heart did a small, excited flip.

“This,” she murmured, “is either going to be brilliant… or catastrophic.”

Her eyes gleamed.

“Either way,” she whispered, raising her hand toward the door, “it will not be boring.”

And Damini Malhotra absolutely refused to live a boring life.

She knocked.

Yash was halfway through saying, “I told you Purvi isn’t —” when a sharp knock cut him off.

Three quick raps.

Confident.

Not hesitant.

Yash frowned. No one would dare disturb Inder right now.

He walked to the door and opened it—

And froze.

A girl stood there.

Not dressed like family. Not staff. Not media.

She looked… alive.

Large expressive eyes. Hair falling in loose waves over her shoulders. A simple crop top and a skirt that reached below the knees — but she carried herself like she owned the palace.

For a second, she just stared at him.

Then her eyes widened.

“Oh.”

“Yes?” Yash blinked. 

She leaned slightly forward, studying his face shamelessly.

Tall. Sharp jawline. Well-built.

Her eyes sparkled.

“Are you Inder Ranawat?” She asked, visibly excited.

Yash almost choked.

“Uh. No.”

Her shoulders dropped immediately.

“No?”

The disappointment in her voice was so genuine that Yash felt mildly offended.

“Should I be?” He raised a brow. 

“You are too handsome to not be the main character.” She sighed dramatically.

Yash stared at her.

Who was this girl?

“Who are you?” He asked cautiously.

She straightened instantly.

“I am Damini.”

No surname. No hesitation.

“I want to meet Inder Ranawat.”

“Well, that’s unfortunate timing.” Yash let out a dry laugh. 

“Why?”

“He is not in the mood to meet anyone.”

“Exactly,” she said brightly.

“Exactly?” Yash blinked. 

“Yes. That is precisely why he should meet me.”

Yash felt a headache forming.

“And why is that?”

She smiled confidently.

“Because I can change his mood with just a snap of my fingers.” She snapped her fingers.

The sound echoed softly in the corridor.

Yash stared at her as if she had just declared herself queen of Mars.

“What?”

“Trust me,” she said casually. “I am very efficient.”

Before Yash could block her—

She slipped past him.

Literally.

Squeezed through the space between him and the door frame like a determined cat.

“Hey—!” Yash spun around. “You can’t just—”

Too late.

She was already inside.

Yash hurried after her.

The chamber was dimly lit.

Heavy curtains drawn. A single lamp glowing near the bar.

Inder sat on the couch, elbows on his knees, a glass of whisky in his hand.

Still in his wedding sherwani.

But now it looked like armor after battle.

He hadn’t moved since returning.

Hadn’t spoken much.

Hadn’t processed.

His empire was slipping away.

And for the first time in years—

He didn’t have a strategy.

Damini stopped mid-step when she saw him.

And forgot to breathe.

Damn.

He was devastating.

Sharp features. Strong jaw. Dark, intense eyes. Broad shoulders strained against ivory silk. A controlled fury radiated from him like heat from fire.

Hot, tick.

Brooding, tick.

Prince, tick.

Adventure, screaming tick.

She mentally fanned herself.

“Oh,” she whispered under her breath. “Universe, you have outdone yourself.”

“I told you to wait—” Yash caught up behind her. 

Too late.

Inder had looked up.

His eyes widened.

A stranger.

In his chamber.

After the worst humiliation of his life.

For two long seconds, silence ruled.

Then his voice cut through the air.

“Who the hell are you?”

A/N

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