Chapter 20
The morning after the incredible, soul-shattering kiss in Siddhant’s private study, Poorvanshi woke up to a world that felt entirely brand new.
For the very first time since she had arrived at the massive, imposing Chaturvedi mansion, she did not feel like a hostage.
She did not feel like a pawn in a terrifying corporate war.
She woke up in the East Wing guest suite with a profound, overwhelming sense of absolute peace.
The heavy, dark storm of family secrets, betrayal, and forced proximity had completely passed, leaving behind a brilliant, clear sky.
She lay in her large bed for a long time, simply watching the morning light filter through the sheer white silk curtains.
The gentle morning breeze caused the fabric to ripple smoothly, moving with the mesmerizing grace of a high-end fluid simulation.
The cinematic, golden sunlight poured into the room, catching the tiny dust motes in the air and creating a soft, warm bokeh effect that made the entire suite look like a beautiful dream.
Poorvanshi slowly lifted her left hand.
The heavy, antique diamond ring rested securely on her ring finger. The flawless cut of the massive gemstone caught the bright morning light, fracturing it into dozens of tiny, brilliant rainbows that danced across the white ceiling.
She stared at the ring, her heart swelling with an emotion so massive and deep that it actually took her breath away.
'I am choosing you. I choose the Devil.'
She had said those words to him, and he had completely surrendered. The man who controlled a multi-billion-rupee empire, the man who terrified everyone in the city, had trembled when he held her. He loved her with a fierce, absolute, and unconditional devotion that completely defied logic.
A soft, polite knock on her bedroom door pulled Poorvanshi out of her beautiful thoughts.
"Come in," Poorvanshi called out softly, sitting up and pulling the silk duvet around her shoulders.
One of the older, kinder housekeepers, a woman named Geeta, stepped into the room.
She held a small silver tray with a steaming cup of fresh ginger tea.
Geeta offered a warm, genuine smile that was entirely free of the nervous tension that usually plagued the mansion staff.
Everyone in the house knew that Raghav and Nandini had been stripped of their power, and the atmosphere was instantly lighter.
"Good morning, Miss Rathore," Geeta said gently, placing the silver tray on the bedside table. "I hope you slept well. Daadi Savitri has requested your presence. She asked if you would join her for morning tea in her private courtyard whenever you are ready."
Poorvanshi’s eyebrows raised in mild surprise. Daadi Savitri rarely summoned anyone to her private quarters unless it was something of absolute importance. "Thank you, Geeta. Please tell Daadi I will be down in twenty minutes."
"Of course, ma'am," Geeta nodded respectfully and quietly left the room.
Poorvanshi got out of bed, her mind already shifting into a calm, focused state.
She took a warm shower and dressed in a simple, incredibly elegant peach-colored cotton suit.
It was soft, modest, and comfortable. She brushed her dark hair until it fell in sleek, heavy waves down her back, and she kept her makeup entirely natural.
She walked out of her suite and began the long journey through the massive estate towards Daadi Savitri’s quarters.
The mansion was completely silent, but it was a peaceful, settling silence.
As she walked down the wide corridors, she admired the flawless architecture of the house.
The floors were made of pristine Kishangarh marble, brought directly from the heart of Rajasthan.
The highly polished stone acted like a perfect mirror.
As Poorvanshi walked, the morning sunlight pouring through the tall arched windows created stunning, ray-traced reflections on the marble floor, bouncing the light against the dark mahogany walls in a display of pure, breathtaking visual aesthetics.
She finally reached the heavy, carved wooden doors of Daadi Savitri’s private courtyard.
The courtyard was a beautiful, traditional sanctuary hidden away from the modern, cold lines of the rest of the mansion. It was filled with blooming jasmine bushes, bright orange marigolds, and a small, gently trickling stone water fountain.
Daadi Savitri was sitting in a large, comfortable wicker chair under the shade of a massive banyan tree.
She was dressed in a simple white cotton saree, her silver hair pulled back into a neat bun.
She was slowly rolling a string of wooden prayer beads between her wrinkled fingers, her eyes closed in quiet meditation.
As Poorvanshi’s silver sandals clicked softly against the stone path, Daadi opened her eyes. A wide, deeply knowing smile spread across her weathered face.
"Ah, the girl who finally brought the sun back to this gloomy house," Daadi Savitri announced loudly, her voice surprisingly strong and vibrant. "Come here, my child. Sit with me."
"Good morning, Daadi," Poorvanshi smiled warmly, walking over and respectfully touching the older woman’s feet before taking a seat in the empty wicker chair beside her.
"Drink your tea before it gets cold," Daadi instructed, pointing to a small ceramic cup resting on the brass table between them.
Poorvanshi took a sip of the warm, spiced tea. It tasted like cardamom and honey, instantly soothing her stomach. She looked at the matriarch, waiting patiently. She knew Daadi had not called her here just to enjoy the morning breeze.
Daadi Savitri stopped rolling her prayer beads. She turned her head, her sharp, intelligent eyes scanning Poorvanshi’s face with intense, analytical precision.
"The entire house is talking," Daadi said softly, though there was no malice in her tone, only deep amusement.
"The staff is whispering that my stubborn, terrifying grandson actually smiled yesterday.
They are whispering that Raghav and Nandini have been locked away in the West Wing, entirely stripped of their checkbooks.
And they are whispering that the abandoned bride tore up her annulment papers. "
Poorvanshi felt a sudden, hot blush rise to her cheeks. She looked down at her tea cup, a shy smile touching her lips. "The staff is very well-informed."
"In this house, the walls have ears, and the floors have eyes," Daadi laughed, a rich, hearty sound.
"But I do not need the staff to tell me what is happening.
I have eyes of my own. I saw the way he looked at you the night of my birthday party, when you wore that red silk saree.
I saw the absolute terror in his face when those oil lamps fell.
He would have let himself burn to ash before he let a single spark touch your skin. "
Poorvanshi’s heart squeezed painfully at the memory. "He is an incredibly protective man, Daadi."
"He is," Daadi agreed, her expression turning slightly more serious.
"But Siddhant does not protect just anyone, Poorvanshi.
He protects his empire, yes. He protects me, because I am his blood.
But for ten years, Siddhant has not allowed a single soul to step inside his heart.
He built a massive fortress of ice around himself.
He swore he would never let anyone close enough to betray him again. "
Daadi Savitri slowly reached out her wrinkled hand. "Give me your hand, child."
Poorvanshi gently placed her left hand into Daadi’s palm.
The old woman did not look at Poorvanshi’s face. She looked directly at the massive, heavy diamond ring resting on her ring finger. Her thumb lightly traced the edge of the antique platinum setting. A look of profound, deep sadness and overwhelming love crossed Daadi’s face.
"Do you know the history of this ring, Poorvanshi?" Daadi asked quietly, her voice dropping to a near whisper.
Poorvanshi frowned slightly, looking down at the beautiful diamond.
"Siddhant told me it was a family heirloom.
On the night of the wedding, when Aryan ran away, Siddhant put it on my finger.
He said I was wearing the family name, and he was putting it on me to protect the family from the media scandal. "
Daadi Savitri let out a slow, heavy sigh. She shook her head, a sad smile touching her lips. "Siddhant is a brilliant businessman, my dear, but he is an absolute fool when it comes to understanding his own heart."
Poorvanshi looked up, entirely confused. "What do you mean?"
"This ring is not just a family heirloom," Daadi explained softly, her thumb still resting against the cold diamond. "This ring belonged to Siddhant’s late mother, Meenakshi. It was her wedding ring."
Poorvanshi completely stopped breathing.
The air in the quiet courtyard seemed to vanish. She stared at the ring on her finger, her mind completely reeling. Siddhant’s mother’s ring. The mother who had died when he was young. The mother whose private trust fund Raghav had stolen and completely drained to save his own cowardly skin.
"Meenakshi was a beautiful, gentle soul," Daadi Savitri continued, her eyes gazing out into the garden, lost in old, painful memories.
"But her marriage to Raghav was completely miserable.
Raghav was greedy, ambitious, and deeply selfish.
He neglected her entirely. Meenakshi spent her entire life feeling lonely, unloved, and trapped in this massive stone fortress. "
Daadi turned her eyes back to Poorvanshi.
"Siddhant saw everything," Daadi whispered.
"He watched his mother cry in the dark. He watched her fade away.
When she died, she gave this ring directly to Siddhant.
He was just a boy, but he made a vow on that day.
He swore that he would never, ever become like his father.
He swore that he would never force a woman to feel the absolute, crushing loneliness that his mother felt. "