CHAPTER 1
Eighteen Months later - Tokyo
Reyansh sat in a sleek, glass-walled conference room in Tokyo, closing yet another high-stakes business deal with the same calm precision he was known for.
“Mr. Chopra, we have re-evaluated your proposal,” Chi Wang announced formally. “And we find it acceptable.”
Reyansh rose from his chair, and extended a firm handshake across the table.
“Great. In that case, my manager will coordinate with your team for further communications, Mr. Wang,” he replied coolly.
Just then, a knock disrupted the sterile quiet of the room. Sunny, his personal assistant, entered the room, a bit hesitant and cautious, holding his phone like it might explode.
“Boss… you have an urgent call,” Sunny said nervously.
Reyansh despised interruptions during meetings, especially his own staff disrupting a live negotiation.
For a second, he considered snapping, but with clients still present, he forced himself to remain composed.
His anger simmered beneath the surface, but he buried it for the sake of professionalism.
“Excuse me, gentlemen,” he said, striding toward the door.
Outside, he took the phone from Sunny with a sharp look. “Who the hell is it?”
Sunny swallowed hard. “Your wife.”
For a beat, Reyansh froze. His Wife —two words that meant nothing more than a legal formality until now.
Ever since their marriage, Aanya had never once attempted to reach out. He doubted she even had his personal number saved. Yet here she was calling, through his assistant no less.
Without another word, he snatched the phone from Sunny’s hand and pressed it to his ear, bracing himself for whatever chaos Aanya had decided to throw his way now.
A Few Minutes Earlier – Paris
The Royal Casino buzzed with clinking glasses, rolling chips, and the manic energy of fortunes gained and lost. Laughter echoed across tables, where millionaires played recklessly with their wealth.
The super rich patrons hovered around poker tables and roulette wheels, some cashing in on luck while others lost fortunes in minutes.
At one such table, Aanya, sat with flushed cheeks, dishevelled hair, and a drink in her hand. She was stunning, even in her drunken haze, dressed in a bold party dress, surrounded by empty glasses and bad decisions.
A tall blonde server wove through the crowd, balancing a tray of drinks as she approached the table where Aanya was seated, surrounded by four women and two men mid-game.
“That’s your drink, ma’am,” she said, with a wide smile, handing a glass to the most obviously intoxicated woman at the table – Aanya.
“Thaa...aank you, babes,” Aanya slurred, downing the champagne in one go. She checked her cards again, eyes squinting.
“Show, guys,” she declared, tossing her cards dramatically on the table.
The rest of the table followed suit.
Seconds later, she groaned in frustration. “Damn it! I lost again.”
The others at the table burst into laughter, amused by her drama and increasingly desperate behaviour.
Navya Singh, her childhood best friend, leaned in and rubbed her back. “Told you not to go all in, Aanya. Anyways, let’s get out of here.”
“Nooooo,” Aanya slurred, shrugging off Navya’s hand. Her eyes darted to her purse, and she began digging through it with determination. “I can’t lose. One more game. Just one.”
The women at the table laughed, this time at her sheer audacity. Navya leaned over, trying to stop her from fumbling through her bag.
“Aanya, your card’s maxed out. Your monthly allowance is gone. You’ve got eight more days till the next one hits your account. You’ve got nothing left. Let’s call it a night, please.”
Aanya pulled her arm free again, her voice stubborn and slurred. “No. I’m not leaving till I win something.”
Navya sighed heavily, her patience wearing thin.
“I’ll call Dad,” Aanya said, unlocking her phone and pressing his contact. It rang three times and went unanswered, adding fuel to her growing agitation.
“He’s probably in a meeting,” Navya offered.
“I don’t care,” Aanya snapped. “He should answer.”
Navya placed a hand on her shoulder. “Let’s just go.”
Aanya remained planted in her seat. “I said no!”
“Okay,” Navya relented, throwing up her hands. “Fine. One more game. But seriously, where are you getting the money from? Your dad’s not responding.”
Aanya bit her lip, then gave her friend a sly look. “Let’s ask your father, then.”
Navya laughed bitterly. “My father? He’s probably celebrating his third anniversary with his third wife on some godforsaken beach. He won’t even recognize my number at this point.”
Aanya frowned, then suddenly blinked like something had clicked.
“Wait,” she said slowly, with a hiccup. “I have a husband, right?”
Navya blinked. “Uh-huh! You forgot that?”
Aanya blinked again. “Am I... seriously married?”
Navya started laughing.
After a moment of hazy realization, Aanya gasped. “Oh my God. I am married. But to whom?”
“Reyansh Chopra,” Navya replied, suppressing a laugh. “Tall, hot, impossible to ignore? Remember anything? The man you married and haven’t spoken to in over a year?”
“Oh, yeah,” Aanya hiccupped, then narrowed her eyes. “Why are you blushing though? Dare you flirt with him, Navya. He’s mine.”
Navya held up her hands in mock surrender. “Okay, okay! Then call your husband, Mrs. Chopra. See if he can lend you money for one more game here.”
Aanya pulled out her phone again, only to realize she didn’t have his number saved.
“Seriously?” Navya asked, stunned. “You don’t even have your husband’s number?”
“I don’t think I ever saved it,” Aanya muttered.
Navya shook her head. “You are truly insane. Hold on, I might have his assistant’s number. That guy—Sunny, right? He was pretty hot too.”
She pulled up the contact and handed the number over. Aanya grinned as she began dialling with a tipsy grin, completely unaware that her late-night impulse was about to shatter the carefully constructed silence between her and Reyansh Chopra.
Present – Tokyo
“Hello,” Reyansh said into the phone, his tone clipped and impersonal.
“It’s me,” came the slurred voice on the other end. Aanya made a weak attempt to sound sober, but anyone with half a brain could tell she was drunk.
Reyansh immediately recognized the state she was in, and frankly, he wasn’t surprised.
“I know it’s you,” he said, voice flat. “What is it? Why did you call me?”
“ I called you?” she murmured, glancing at her phone screen in confusion. Her brow furrowed as the realization hit her. “Yes… I called. I called you to ask for some money… I… I need money,” she added, hiccupping loudly.
Reyansh rolled his eyes at the sound and clenched his jaw in irritation.
“Which part of the world are you in now?” he asked through gritted teeth, his patience thinning by the second.
“Paris… The city of love…” she said with exaggerated sweetness, clearly amused with herself. Her cheeky reply only added to his annoyance.
“Why do you need money? What happened to all those cards you have?” he demanded.
“They’re all nil.”
“Nil?” he snapped, his voice rising.
“Don’t scream at me!” she shouted back, no longer amused.
Reyansh stepped away from Sunny to speak in private. “Watch your tone, Aanya,” he said sharply.
But Aanya only giggled in response. “I won’t watch my tone… because right now, I’m watching a hot guy sitting next to my table. Damn, he is so cute.” Another burst of laughter followed.
Reyansh’s hand curled into a fist. She never failed to provoke him, always managing to slip through the grip of his control. This reckless, sheer irresponsible lifestyle she had chosen infuriated him.
“MONEY! MONEY! MONEY!” Aanya suddenly began chanting into the phone, louder each time.
“STOP!” he barked and stormed back toward Sunny. He shoved the phone into his assistant’s hand. “Trace her location. Wherever she is, settle whatever she needs. Do you understand?”
Sunny nodded immediately and left the conference room to continue the call.
Reyansh remained behind, seething with rage. This had gone too far. He would have to step in soon, before that woman pushed him beyond the limits of his restraint.
Same Time – Maldives
Fifty-five-year-old Anand Malhotra raised his glass, clinking it with his best friend Deep Singh’s, as the latter sat beside his glowing third wife, Ryma Singh.
“Congratulations on your third anniversary, Deep. May you and Ryma celebrate many more,” Anand toasted.
Ryma leaned in to hug her husband, who kissed her forehead affectionately. The couple beamed in their tropical paradise celebration.
“Thank you, Anand,” Deep said. “I’m really glad you made it. I thought you and Kyle would be in Australia for your new venture.”
“We had planned for it,” Anand admitted. “But Kyle insisted we be here. She didn’t want to miss her best friend’s anniversary.”
Ryma smiled proudly. She and Kyle had been good friends for years. In fact, it was through Kyle that she had met Deep and eventually married him. She looked adoringly at her husband, then scanned the party.
“Where’s Kyle? I haven’t seen her since it began,” Ryma asked.
“She’s a busy woman,” Anand replied with a chuckle. “Even in her fifties, she has more energy than I ever will.”
Deep and Ryma laughed at that just as Deep’s attention shifted.
“There she comes,” he said, pointing toward the hallway.
Kyle entered, every bit as elegant and confident as ever.
A British-Indian woman in her early fifties, Kyle had met Anand years ago during a business trip to London.
His romantic instincts hadn’t let him walk away.
He married her when his daughter, Aanya, was just sixteen, one of the many decisions that changed the course of his daughter’s life forever.
“Hey, love,” Kyle greeted, wrapping her arm around Anand’s.
“Darling, you’ve been seriously missed here. Where were you?” he asked, pulling her closer.