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"What is she doing here?"

Neil hesitated before replying, "Sir, your mother arranged for Mrs Rathod to join the office. She passed every round of the interview."

"Arrange a cold coffee for me."

Prakhar turned on his heel, stepping into the sleek, mirrored elevator. As the doors slid shut, sealing him away from the world.

The elevator ascended, but his mind remained tethered to a woman he despised. Or perhaps, a woman he wished he could despise.

That, after all, was the real problem.

✨

Rida walked out of the finance department, a neatly compiled set of reports in her grasp. As the Project Lead, she had ensured that every detail in those pages-financial projections, risk assessments and revised execution plans for the company's latest infrastructure project-was precise and irrefutable. Her steps were steady as she approached the conference room, where the executives were yet to assemble. The bodyguard stood stationed outside, an unwavering sentinel guarding the entrance. Without a flicker of hesitation, she extended the reports to him.

"Please hand these over to Mr. Singh," she instructed, her voice even, businesslike.

The bodyguard accepted them with a slight nod. Just as he turned to step inside, the heavy wooden door eased open slightly. Prakhar seated at the head of the long conference table caught an unintentional glimpse of her.

Rida.

Dressed in a crisp Business attire..She adjusted the strap of her watch, oblivious to the pair of cold, assessing eyes locked onto her.

She was elegance wrapped in defiance, an unwanted presence in his empire, yet undeniably a part of it now.

His jaw tightened.

Of all places, she had ended up here. Within his world, among his people, delivering reports for a project under his name.

Prakhar's grip on his pen tightened. As she turned on her heel to leave, completely unaware of his lingering stare.

The door closed cutting off his view snapping him back into the moment.

✨

RATHOD MANSION

The morning sunlight streamed through the windows, casting golden patterns across the long dining table.

The aroma of fresh parathas and chai lingered in the air, yet the room held an unsettling stillness thick with unspoken words and hidden glances.The only sounds were the soft clinking of cutlery against ceramic plates and the occasional rustle of fabric as someone shifted in their chair.

And then, Dadi's voice rang through the quiet, commanding as ever.

"As you all know, next month marks your Dadaji's Barsi. Jiji will be arriving soon, and I expect nothing less than absolute decorum from all of you."

Her sharp eyes scanned the room before settling on Rida.

"For you, beta, this will be the first time meeting your Badi Dadi Saas," she continued, her tone carrying the weight of both warning and expectation.

"She is a woman of iron discipline-strict, unwavering in her traditions.When she had to leave abruptly during your wedding, it was unavoidable, but let me make one thing very clear-she holds our family's values close to her heart."

Rida swallowed the lump in her throat and gave a respectful nod.

A strange, hollow feeling settled in Rida's chest, though she pushed it away before it could root itself too deeply.

Dadi's eyes flickered toward Prakhar.

He didn't react.

He continued eating as if the conversation had nothing to do with him.

His indifference was deafening.

The detachment in his posture was almost unnerving.

Dadi exhaled, her voice softening just slightly as she returned her attention to Rida.

"She may seem unyielding, but that is merely a shield. Some people guard their emotions too fiercely, afraid that love makes them weak. They're afraid to show love, because they think love is vulnerability. She may seem cold ,but that is only the surface. Once you find your way past her walls, you will see-she cares, more than she will ever admit."

Something about those words struck a chord in Rida. She glanced briefly at Prakhar, wondering if Dadi's words were meant only for her or if they carried an unspoken meaning for him as well.

Still, he didn't react.

The silence stretched, thick with something unnamed.

Then, as if to break the rising tension, Dadi's gaze snapped to Shivansh, her tone razor-sharp now.

"Aur tu!! sambhal ke rehna.I want none of your antics this year."

(And you-watch yourself. I'm not in the mood for your chaos this year.)

Shivansh, who had been mid-bite, froze before flashing an innocent grin.
" When have I ever done anything wrong?"

Akansha let out an incredulous laugh. "Would you like a list? I can start with last year and work my way back."

Dadi ignored their banter, her expression firm. "No mischief. No nonsense. This year, I want peace."

Shivansh sighed dramatically but nodded.

Finally, as breakfast came to an end, Dadi turned her attention back to Prakhar, this time carrying something heavier. An unspoken demand. One that did not need words to be understood.Her silence pressing against him-her expectation was clear.

"I want everything to be sorted before," she declared.

Kanak, watching the exchange, smiled knowingly. It was always the same unspoken demand & Prakhar knew it well. But if he felt anything about it, he didn't show it. .

✨
[ Scene: Washroom - 14th Floor, Rathod Law & Associates, Mahabaleshwar ]

The Rathod Law & Associates wasn't just a facility- it was a statement.The washroom was more five-star luxury than corporate necessity.

Floor-to-ceiling mirrors framed in sleek grey marble. sinks flowed like a silent waterfall from sensor taps. The lighting was warm and intentional, set to flatter every skin tone.

The washroom was fit for royalty and ruthlessness- motion-activated taps that whispered as they flowed and mirrors tall and wide enough to make anyone feel exposed under their reflection.

It whispered: Only the elite belong here.

And yet, one woman didn't care.

Niyati Sharma stood at the centre basin,sleeves rolled just enough to reveal toned wrists.

She was based in the Mumbai branch- as a Reporting Agent, handling physical surveillance, and the occasional white-collar mess-ups. The Mahabaleshwar HQ? That wasn't her playground.

This wasn't her assignment originally. Some trusted senior was supposed to hand-deliver the confidential file but last-minute drama and life loved chaos & Niyati was fluent in it.

Chain-of-command confusion had led to her being picked.

A few wisps of her hair clung to her cheeks, loosened from the bun by the humidity and the haste of travel.

Her face wasn't powdered perfection. It was real, magnetic. Sharp jawline. Her eyes were lined with dark kajal smudged just enough to make her look dangerous in the best way. They had the intensity of a woman who'd bite if provoked. Not a single part of her tried to blend in with the uptight elegance of the place. She was the walking opposite of subtle. Lips naturally flushed.

Her beauty wasn't delicate-it was arresting. The kind that made people curious and intimidated in the same breath.

With an elegant flick of her fingers, she shook droplets off her wrists.

Her sharp eyes were fixed on her reflection..

And then...

Click. Clack. Giggle. Whisper.

A trio of women entered in a chorus of hurried footsteps and whispers and walked toward the larger mirror just behind Niyati.

She didn't turn. But her sharp gaze slid sideways in the mirror, watching them with quiet amusement.

"He was in courtroom mode this morning. You should've seen," one of them whispered, adjusting her lipstick with slightly trembling hands.

"He tore apart Sharma's proposal. Literally. Like, page by page. In front of the entire board," said another, eyes wide.

"That too because it had a single missing signature. He didn't even yell. He just looked at him-that look. I swear, Sharma looked like he was going to cry," third one said..

"That man is terrifying. Doesn't speak unless it's to crush you."

Niyati's lip twitched into a lopsided smile.

"Terrifying, huh?," she whispered to her reflection, voice like warm whiskey and dry sarcasm.
"Sounds like a soap villain with a law degree."

Niyati's eyes lifted lazily to meet the mirror, where the women's reflections hovered behind her. They hadn't noticed her yet-or maybe they had but assumed she was just another accessory to the office.

"You know Mr. Verma? Fifteen years in the firm? He asked a second question after he had already answered once... and now he's on forced vacation."

"No wonder they say he's a storm in a suit. Cold, unreadable, and brutal in court."

'Storm in a suit? ' Niyati scoffed
"Poor guy probably smells like privilege and unresolved control issues," she thought to herself.

"I would faint if I had to be in his cabin. He's... he's not human," that same girl said..

She raised an eyebrow at herself clearly unimpressed, "And here I thought only Mumbai landlords were this dramatic."

"Honestly though... terrifying or not, the man is unfairly hot," the girl claimed..

"Oh, he is. No doubt," Others agreed..

"That watch... those sleeves rolled halfway, veins on his hands like-ugh. But then you remember that he could get you fired with one raised eyebrow.. "

"Honestly," one said, brushing back her hair and checking her lipstick in the mirror, "he terrifies me. But like... if he looked at me twice, I wouldn't run."

They burst into giggles-nervous ones, the kind you use to survive in shark-infested waters.

Niyati exhaled slowly. Fixed her top.. Looked at herself again.

"But tell me he's not the most sinfully attractive man here," the girl said..

"You saw him yesterday, right? That steel-grey three-piece suit? With that matte black watch? Danger never looked that hot," she continued ..

Niyati's eyes stayed locked on her own reflection.

She blinked. Slowly.

Then smirked.

Just a twitch of her lips.

And finally, under her breath, she whispered, "Bureaucratic narcissists always come with tailored suits and cult-level fear. Classic. Tch. Must be exhausting being everyone's nightmare fuel all day."

Because in her world, no man& not even Rudra Singh Rathod got to intimidate her without earning it.

She simply turned, ignoring the gossiping pair as if they were invisible and walked out..

She entered the East Lounge. She was escorted here earlier by one of the staff as directed by his assistant.. No one here spoke unless necessary.

Dim lighting. Soft gray walls. Dark walnut furniture. Every object in place. Every line sharp.

No paintings. No photos. Just a long shelf with law journals stacked so precisely it looked robotic.

Leather couches, a digital panel flashing firm victories, a glass table with

She sat on to her seat where she had been from the past 15 minutes.

Fifteen minutes of not pacing.Just sitting-legs crossed, a file on her lap, sipping water like she owned it..

"Rudra Singh Rathod," she whispered under her breath, not in fear but with a small, almost entertained curiosity.

A ghost in human form...Stupid legends. 'He's terrifying', 'He's ruthless,' 'He can fire you with a look'...
People talk about you like you're a courtroom Grim Reaper.

"Let's see what all the fan-horror is about."

She rested her head against the backrest.

Her fingers tapped rhythmically on the armrest.

She was about to yawn when a flicker in her peripheral vision made her pause.

Her body stiffened.

She turned and there it was.

There... right by the frosted glass wall... a pair of unblinking golden eyes stared at her.

The coal-black cat gliding like a shadow.

That wasn't a normal cat.

This one shimmered. Its fur gleamed like ink under moonlight. Its golden eyes glowed unnaturally. The moment their gazes met & Niyati froze.

She looked around. Empty. Nowhere to run. No soul in sight. Just her and this feline demon..

The cat stalked toward her, tail flicking, movements sinuous and predatory.

She panicked.

Without thinking, she screamed, "SHOO!!"

The cat kept paddeding in- graceful, fluffy, majestic... and pure evil.

"WHAT THE-?! "
Her body went stiff, adrenaline spiking.

Niyati whispering to herself, "I've taken down drunk criminals, gotten into elevator fights with drunk CEOs, but this isn't something to deal with ?"

She stood & the cat paused, sniffed it... then hissed.

"Oh Hell Noooo..."

The cat moved.

So did she.

Fast.

Her bracelets clashed wildly on her wrist. Her heels clacked madly then wobbled.

"Damn it!" She kicked them off mid-run. Barefoot and unbalanced and ran faster, eyes darting for a door, a savior, anything.

"I HAVE DONE NOTHING WRONG IN THIS LIFE!"

Niyati raced on blindly unknowingly smashing through one rule after another.

She thundered through a glass door marked, "Executive Floor - Authorized Personnel Only."

Behind her, a small red light on the wall blinked and a soft security alarm began pulsing but Niyati paid it no mind. In her rush she had already skipped the front-desk sign-in, passed through a locked access door and sent the executive corridor's alert into action - breaking at least three internal protocols without so much as a second thought.

All she saw was the black blur of the cat behind her and the office corridor ahead.

At the end of the hall, the corridor opened into a private executive lounge centered around an indoor pool.

There stood RUDRA SINGH RATHOD by the pool mid-phone call, utterly oblivious to everything but his conversation.

A towering figure easily over six feet of raw, masculine authority- his physique wasn't just built, it was forged.

Wide, broad shoulders carried the effortless dominance of a man born to lead & his chest stretched the crisp, expensive white shirt like it struggled to contain the sheer power beneath.

His sleeves were rolled up, revealing forearms that looked sculpted by war itself - veined, strong, capable. A luxury watch hugged his wrist like a crown worn by royalty.

Every shift of his body sent ripples of strength down his back - muscles moving in coordinated tension like a beast leashed by habit, not necessity.

His presence - dangerous, magnetic, and devilishly handsome - filled the space like gravity, pulling eyes to him before he even cared to notice.

In her blind sprint for salvation, she didn't realize she'd crossed into restricted territory - the boss's private floor, where normal employees weren't allowed to breathe without permission.

She didn't notice the tall figure, standing near the pool's edge, speaking into a phoner.

He turned slowly, phone still pressed to his ear, lips poised mid-sentence.

Niyati, still focused on escaping the cat, didn't see him until the very last second when her cheek slammed full force into his chest.

Her nose crinkled at the sharp, icy scent of cologne - crisp, clean, intimidating.Her hair, wild and soft, tangled against his collarbone.

The impact knocked them both off balance, his phone flew from his hand, spinning midair before splashing into the water with a sickening plop. Rudra's arms lunged out to steady himself but only succeeded in grabbing Niyati's shoulder. Momentum of her collision knocked him backward and gravity did the rest. They tumbled together forward & then both crashed into the pool.

The rippling shockwave of their collision sent ripples across the calm pool and droplets sprayed across the polished marble floor.

The shock of cold water enveloped Niyati, knocking the breath out of her. Niyati, who didn't know how to swim, thrashed like a maniac, kicking and flailing her arms, spluttering. She kicked out blindly, gasping when she surfaced only for a moment then slipped again, coughing, hands slapping at the water.

He shot up out of the pool like a beast breaking the surface in one powerful motion, water cascading from every inch of his body.

"Have you lost your damn mind?" he snarled through clenched teeth, eyes glinting with fury.

His black hair, usually styled with ruthless perfection, clung messily to his forehead.

His crisp white shirt clung to him, showing every chiseled line of muscle on display- soaked and sculpted..

"S-Save-meee-"she gasped, half-choking, water in her mouth, voice broken between coughs and panic.

Two strokes.

And he was beside her, one strong arm wrapped around her waist, hoisting her up from behind. Her back crashed against his chest with a violent splash. Her legs kicked instinctively, slapping water into his face.

She flailed more out of stubbornness than survival..

She coughed. Cursed. Clung to him like he was a lifeline and a punching bag at once.

Rudra stared at her. Disbelief. Disgust. Fury.

A nerve ticked at his temple.

His thoughts about her-

Pathetic. Loud. Clumsy.

"Stop flailing, you fool," he barked.

With effortless strength, he half-lifted her above water, he steered her to the edge like she was a shrieking, water-logged burden.

She heaved, gasping, hair sticking to her cheeks like vines, kicked helplessly.

His grey eyes burned holes through her.

Niyati stayed there, soaked from head to toe glaring at the equally drenched mountain of a man before her.

The air between them smelled of wet stone, expensive cologne... and rising fury.

He didn't even seem slightly out of breath.

She wiped her forehead clumsily, flicking droplets right onto his expensive watch- a limited edition, of course, without an ounce of regret.

"You lack sense. And basic manners," he said flatly with disbelief like she was some uninvited stain.

"Excuse me? I lack manners?," she started, her voice high-pitched from anger and embarrassment, "...What kind of moron stands next to a pool like he's posing for a magazine shoot in a restricted zone?"

"You're noisy. I don't tolerate loud mouths" he stated disinterested.

"And you are- " she began hotly, but he stepped closer.

"Get out of this wing. And stay out."

"And Who the Hell are you? A spoiled, arrogant fool... the type I hate the most."

He still said nothing.

Neither of them knew, at that moment, that by 1:00 PM, they'd both be sitting across each other in the conference room.

He muttered under his breath.
"Should have left a insolent brat like you to drown."

"Is this how you treat women?!" she spluttered.

"I treat idiots exactly how they deserve," he snapped.

Niyati, never one to take humiliation lying down.

"The audacity!" she squeaked. "You're the idiot! Staring at your reflection in the pool like some self-obsessed maniac!"

For a long, tense second, Niyati's insults hung between them like poison in the air.

"You should consider yourself very lucky I even bothered to save your worthless self," he said quietly, eyes never leaving her..

Behind her, the soft red security alarm in the corridor blinked ominously, but nobody intervened.

"Oh, excuse me, Mister Standing-In-The-Middle-Of-Nowhere! Maybe you should learn some basic survival instincts. Like moving. Ever heard of that?Moreover You should be feeling honored of colliding with me," she spat, pointing a shaky, dripping finger at him.

He didn't said anything just stared at her with a deadly gazelike calming the storm she welcomed..

"You know what? Maybe you are the reason this world needs strict building access rules! To keep strangers like you from lurking around and ruining people's days!" she said, voice shaking slightly but fueled by pure rage.

Stranger.

Rudra Singh Rathod, the owner of the entire damn building, the ruthless mind behind Rathod & Associates, stared at her like she'd lost every marble in her brain.

But she didn't stop.

No.

She was on a full-blown rant now, hands flying dramatically.

"You're just another rich brat who thinks his time is more valuable than oxygen! This place is for professionals - not lost tourists looking for a modeling audition!"

"Yeah! And judging by that watch," she pointed accusingly at his gleaming, expensive Rolex - "...you're probably compensating for something!"

His Grey eyes sharpened like blades.

"You breached a restricted zone. Violated three internal protocols. And You think a stranger like you can come into my territory...and -" he said, voice dangerously low.

She blinked, confused.

"Your territory?

✨

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