Chapter 1
A few minutes later
Arundhati stormed into Raj Verma’s cabin, barely containing the irritation simmering in her chest.
“Uncle, how could you?” she demanded, her voice edged with restrained fury. “Me and him together working on a case? That’s highly impossible.”
Raj Verma, seated behind his stately desk, glanced up at her with practised calm.
“I already clarified that, didn’t I?” he said, setting aside his reading glasses and leaning back in his chair, as composed as ever. “I want the best of both of you to help Anant win this case.”
Arundhati let out a sharp breath as she planted her hands on his desk and leaned in. “Uncle, I can’t stand his high-end, know-it-all attitude. Working together will only make me lose my peace of mind. He is—”
The door swung open again, and Kushal entered, once again not even acknowledging her presence.
Instead, he walked straight to Raj Verma.
“I’m not exactly thrilled about this arrangement either, Sir,” he said smoothly. “Working with someone who clings too much to rules instead of using strategy makes things more complicated than they need to be.”
Arundhati bristled.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she drawled, folding her arms. “Would you rather work with someone who treats legal battles like a game of psychological warfare rather than actual justice?”
Kushal finally turned his dark, assessing gaze toward her, bored amusement flickering in those maddeningly sharp eyes.
“Justice?” he repeated, tilting his head slightly. “I seem to recall your self-righteous approach failing spectacularly in the Oberoi divorce case last year. If I remember correctly, you were so determined to play by the book that your client nearly lost everything.”
Arundhati’s jaw clenched. “But I won that case. And, if I remember correctly, your manipulative tactics in the Malhotra case had the opposing party signing a settlement that was legally unethical.”
“Ethicality is subjective,” Kushal shrugged. “Winning isn’t. You get too caught up in what’s right and wrong, whereas I’m more focused on winning, no matter the method.”
Her glare sharpened. “And that’s exactly why I despise working with you.”
Raj exhaled sharply, rubbing his temples before his authoritative voice sliced through their bickering.
“Are you both done?”
Silence.
They both turned to face him, arms crossed, mirroring each other’s stance even in their stubbornness. Raj’s gaze flickered between them before he let out a heavy sigh.
“The two best lawyers I’m most proud of, standing before me, fighting like children in a schoolyard?” He leaned forward. “Instead of fighting with each other, it would be better if you used that energy for this case, because trust me, it’s not going to be an easy one.”
Kushal straightened, that infuriating smirk still in place. “Oh, don’t worry. I’ve already started.”
“You have?” Raj lifted a brow.
Kushal tucked his hands into his pockets confidently.
“Of course. I’ve already leaked select information to the press, hinting that Sadhna’s claims are financially motivated rather than truth-based.
” His gaze flicked to Arundhati for just a second before returning to Raj.
“A couple of carefully placed media narratives have started shifting public opinion. By tomorrow, a few industry insiders will start questioning her credibility.”
Raj’s lips curled into an approving smile. “Well played, Kushal.”
Arundhati folded her arms. “I’m not sitting idle, either.”
Both men turned to her, Raj intrigued, Kushal sceptical.
She lifted her chin.
“Ever since Divya told me that they were bringing this case to Verma & Associates, I started preparing. I’ve already begun tracking Sadhna’s financials, specifically, her hidden assets and questionable transactions.
I have a forensic accounting team working on it.
If she’s been hoarding money or making big unexplained expenditures, we’ll use it to destroy her credibility in court. ”
Raj chuckled, clearly pleased. “Now, that’s what I like to see. You both have already started working on this case together.” He leaned back in satisfaction. “That’s what good partners do.”
The moment the word “partners” slipped from his mouth, both Kushal and Arundhati stiffened.
While Kushal’s smirk vanished, his jaw tensing for a split second, Arundhati’s grip on her arms tightened.
Raj noticed the shift in atmosphere and sighed.
“I meant work partners, not life partners, because in that department, you both have been disappointing me a lot.”
Neither of them spoke.
Neither of them wanted to address the elephant in the room—the marriage she was fighting to end and he was fighting to hold onto for his Goddamn reasons.
Before either could break the silence, Raj’s phone buzzed on his desk.
He glanced at the caller ID, then rose from his seat.
“I have to take this.” His eyes flicked between them one last time. “Try not to kill each other while I’m gone.”
And with that, he walked out, leaving them alone.
The moment the door clicked shut, Arundhati turned first, her gaze finally meeting his fully.
“If you get in my way, I’ll bury you, Kushal.”
He didn’t react, not immediately. He didn’t smirk, didn’t throw back another one of his infuriatingly cocky remarks. Instead, he simply tilted his head, watching her, and then, without a word, he reached forward and pressed a button on the intercom.
A second later, the peon entered, looking between them curiously, no doubt sensing the charged atmosphere.
Kushal slipped his hands into his pockets and said, completely deadpan, “Bring some ice-cold water for Ma’am. She needs to cool down her anger to focus.”
Arundhati’s fingers curled into fists.
Her breath hitched—part anger, part sheer frustration, and part an overwhelming urge to throw something at him. The nerve of this man!
The peon gulped, looking at Arundhati for confirmation before quickly nodding and exiting the room.
“You—” she started, but Kushal had already turned away, striding toward the door, looking disinterested in any further argument, which made her want to scream.
Just as he reached for the handle, he spoke over his shoulder.
“The media needs an official statement that Verma & Associates is representing Anant. Be at the lobby at 4:00 PM sharp.”
Arundhati folded her arms. “I’m not taking orders from you.”
Kushal again turned back to face her.
“You are, sweetheart,” he said, mockingly sweet, “because whether you like it or not, we have to do this together.”
Her glare could have set the room on fire.
She strode to him, seething.
“Call me sweetheart one more time, and you’ll need more than your twisted manipulation skills to save yourself from me, Kushal.”
And with that, she stepped out of the door first, leaving behind only her lingering cologne and the unbearable heat of their unspoken war.
***************
Same Day - 04:00 p.m.
The lobby of Verma & Associates was packed with media personnel, cameras flashing, microphones at the ready. The reporters, journalists, and paparazzi all eagerly waited for the next scandalous headline.
Kushal strode to the lobby, realizing there was no sign of Arundhati yet. He checked his Rolex, his jaw tightening when he saw the time—4:02 PM.
Typical.
She would never take orders from him, would she?
Annoyance flickered through him as he slipped his phone from his pocket, his fingers moving swiftly to dial her number.
The call didn’t connect.
She had blocked him nine months ago when she started living separately. How could he forget that?
Arundhati had cut off all non-essential communication, except for when they were forced to cross paths at the firm. His irritation spiked further as the media personnel outside shifted impatiently, some already lifting their cameras, waiting to capture the moment.
He shoved his phone back into his pocket and was about to summon a peon to call her down when the elevator doors slid open.
And there she was. Effortlessly late. Effortlessly breathtaking.
She stepped out, phone pressed to her ear, her face composed, as if she hadn’t just kept him waiting. She hadn’t even looked at him yet, but he felt her presence like a slow burn under his skin. The kind that started subtly, dangerously, before it consumed everything in its path.
For a second, he forgot why he was angry.
Then her gaze lifted, and their eyes locked.
Something always happened when they stared at each other for too long.
A slow, searing pull that neither of them acknowledged, but both refused to break. An undercurrent of something dark, something that never should have existed between two people at war.
And yet, it did.
Every damn time.
She didn’t look away. Neither did he.
His fingers flexed at his sides, but he didn’t move. He just stood there, rooted to the spot, watching her approach with that same effortless confidence that had once drawn him in—before it had driven him insane.
By the time she reached him, she had wound up her call, slipping the phone into her bag.
“For God’s sake, unblock my number first,” he snapped before she could speak. “We have to communicate for this case.”
“What happened?” she taunted. “Did it hurt your ego to know you are still blocked?”
Kushal’s nostrils flared. “I don’t have time for your games, Arundhati.” He turned away from her with irritation. “Just unblock me.”
She fell into step beside him as they walked toward the glass doors leading to the media crowd outside.
“Fine,” she said, eyes fixed ahead. “But try keeping the communication professional. If you send me anything remotely personal, anything about our own divorce drama, I swear I’ll block you again.”
His teeth gritted.
But now wasn’t the time to fight about them.
The moment they stepped outside, blinding flashes erupted, and a dozen microphones extended toward them, journalists shouting over one another.
“Mr. Nair! Mrs. Nair! Is it true that Verma & Associates has taken up Anant Mukherjee’s case?”
“Do you believe the allegations made by Sadhna Mukherjee hold any truth?”