"Verma heiress to sit at the same table as her enemy."
"Annual Board Meet sparks tension between the Verma and Malhotra factions."
"Corporate Blood Feud Reaches Boiling Point."
The bold headlines screamed from every tabloid and business portal as Janhavi scrolled furiously through her tablet. She finally flung it onto the sofa, where a stack of newspapers already lay strewn like fallen soldiers. Her face was a mix of disgust and disbelief.
"They make it sound like a damn gladiator match," she muttered, pushing her fingers through her hair. "Like you're walking into some bloodthirsty arena instead of a boardroom."
Aarya stood in front of the antique mirror, the early morning sunlight painting her silhouette in soft gold. Calmly, she adjusted her deep navy blazer, fingers lingering on the silver cufflinks once worn by her father. They gleamed under the light—silent symbols of the legacy she was stepping into.
She didn't look away from her reflection as she responded, her voice low and laced with iron. "Isn't it, though? Everyone's watching, waiting for the first cut. The fall. The spectacle."
Janhavi walked up behind her, their eyes meeting briefly in the mirror. "But this isn't a game, Aarya. These men—they're powerful, ruthless. They won't hesitate to tear you down in that room."
Aarya turned, her expression unreadable but eyes fierce. "They already tried. When they turned their backs after Papa's death. When they stripped my name from everything he built. This isn't the beginning of a fight, Janhavi. It's a continuation. And this time, I'm not bleeding quietly."
Janhavi exhaled slowly, folding her arms. "Still... going in without allies on the board? It's a risk."
"I don't need allies right now. I need noise. Disruption." Aarya reached for her phone, checking the time. "Once the doubt begins to spread, the alliances will shift. Greed always trumps loyalty in their world."
"And what about Kartik?" Janhavi asked pointedly. "He'll be there. Sitting beside Karan. Smiling with that stupid glass of single malt like none of this matters."
Aarya's smirk was faint but sharp. "Let him smile. The wider he grins, the more cracks he hides underneath."
Janhavi hesitated before speaking again. "You sure you want to do this alone?"
Aarya's hand froze over her father's watch—the one she wore every time she made a major move. She stared at it for a long second, as if grounding herself in its ticking beat.
"I've been alone long enough to know how to fight that way," she said, slipping the watch onto her wrist with deliberate precision. "What I need is not protection. It's momentum."
The room fell into silence, only broken by the distant chirping of birds beyond the curtained windows.
Janhavi finally moved toward the door, her tone more subdued now. "Then let's win this damn battle. But when it's over, I want that drink. A strong one."
Aarya chuckled softly. "Deal. But only if we toast to Karan's downfall."
"Oh, I'll bring champagne."
They exchanged a look. Fierce. Loyal. Unspoken understanding passing between them like electricity.
And then Aarya picked up the leather folder with her name engraved in gold—documents ready to shake the board to its core.
It was time.
----
The venue was a private high-security conference suite on the 47th floor of Malhotra Tower, the very heart of the empire that once belonged to the Verma legacy—and had been stolen piece by piece. The room was a picture of corporate intimidation: glass walls lined with steel trims, dark mahogany furnishings, the lighting deliberately dim—like a stage set for war. Silent, imposing guards stood at the ends of the corridor. Phones were checked, security clearances verified twice.
Inside, the air vibrated with unspoken tension.
They were waiting for a storm.
And Aarya Verma was that storm.
The double doors parted silently as she walked in.
Every conversation halted. Heads turned. Some expressions turned wary, others incredulous. Her heels echoed softly against the polished floor. No security. No assistant. Just Aarya—wrapped in navy blue power and effortless grace. Hair tied in a sleek knot, minimal jewelry, and a folder held like a weapon in her hand.
Her presence cracked the calm like lightning.
Karan Malhotra, seated at the head of the long table, leaned back slowly in his leather chair. His smile was thin and sharp—more a threat than a welcome.
"Well," he drawled, voice dripping with faux amusement. "Didn't expect you'd have the courage to show up."
The other board members glanced between them, the silence thickening with anticipation.
Aarya walked to the opposite end of the table, each step calculated, each breath controlled. She didn't rush. She didn't need to.
She pulled out the chair directly across from Karan, sat down with regal poise, placed her file on the table... and met his gaze without flinching.
"Didn't expect you'd look so… nervous," she said, her voice velvet with an edge of steel.
A beat of silence.
Then—a sharp intake of breath from one of the junior members. A muffled chuckle from another. Papers shifted. Tension escalated.
Karan's jaw twitched, but his smile stayed. "Careful, Aarya. This isn't your daddy's office. We're not here to play house."
"No," she said smoothly. "You already played that game. When you usurped his board seat and buried the paperwork. I'm here to clean up the mess."
The older board members exchanged looks. Mr. Vyas cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable. "Perhaps we should proceed with the agenda…"
But no one moved.
Not yet.
Kartik, seated to Karan's right, leaned in just enough to be heard. "This is dangerous," he murmured under his breath. "She's not bluffing."
Karan's fingers tapped once on the armrest. He spoke through clenched teeth, a low whisper only Kartik could hear. "She wants a seat—she'll have to earn it."
But even he could feel the shift in the room. The energy had changed. This wasn't the fragile, grieving daughter they had brushed aside years ago.
This was a woman shaped by betrayal, silence, and war.
She was fire wrapped in silk.
Aarya opened her folder, slow and deliberate. "Let's begin, shall we? My legal counsel has submitted documentation to challenge the legality of my removal from the board post my father's death. I'm here to stake what's rightfully mine."
Mr. Sethi, one of the older members with a tendency to side with power, coughed nervously. "We weren't aware you had… formal support."
"You will be," Aarya replied coolly. She pushed forward a stamped document. "The Registrar of Companies has already acknowledged my claim. You'll find my proposal for temporary reinstatement pending full board review. Today's meeting is now officially contested."
Gasps.
Even the assistant standing by the coffee table paused mid-pour.
Karan snatched the file, scanning it with a growing frown. "You're bluffing."
"I don't bluff," Aarya said. "That's your game. Mine is strategy."
His knuckles whitened as he gripped the folder. Kartik tried to interject—"Maybe we should postpone this discussion until—"
"No," Aarya said sharply. "You've all had years to discuss my absence. Now you'll listen to my presence."
A heavy silence fell.
Then Karan stood. Slowly. Deliberately. He walked to the window, looking out over the Mumbai skyline, the light glinting off the buildings below.
"You walk in here like some self-righteous crusader," he said finally. "But let me be clear. This isn't a throne, Aarya. It's a battlefield. And every single man in this room has killed to stay in the game."
Aarya stood too.
"And that's why you'll lose," she said softly, but with fire behind her eyes. "Because I didn't come here to play your game. I came to end it."
Kartik exhaled sharply, clearly rattled. The board murmured nervously. Some eyes shifted toward Aarya—assessing, re-evaluating.
She turned to them, voice strong, controlled. "Vote on it today, or delay it. But I'm not going anywhere. And every delay will only expose more of your wrongdoings."
She turned and walked out without waiting for permission to be dismissed.
Karan didn't stop her. Couldn't.
Behind her, the boardroom simmered in a stew of confusion, fear, and silent awe.
For the first time in years, Karan Malhotra wasn't sure he was in control.