CHAPTER 8
Yamini shut the apartment door behind her and stood there for a long moment, her back pressed to the peeling wood, her heart still racing as if she’d run the entire way home.
This is absurd.
That was the only word that made sense.
She dropped her bag on the floor, kicked off her flats, and walked deeper into the small living space that doubled as her bedroom. The fan creaked overhead, pushing around warm air that smelled faintly of damp plaster and old paint.
Everything looked normal. But the last two hours had been anything but.
She let out a shaky breath.
She had gone to Bharat Jogra’s office to confront him, to demand acknowledgment, to defend herself against Tina’s accusations, and to reclaim a shred of dignity after two days of being treated as if she didn’t exist.
Instead, she had proposed marriage.
To her ex-fiancé. To the man whose wedding she had run away from five years ago.
Oh God.
She pressed her fingers to her temples, squeezing her eyes shut for a second as if that might undo her proposal.
She opened her eyes and paced the room, barefoot steps soft against the cracked tiles.
Bharat’s face replayed in her mind. He hadn’t looked angry or shocked. Just still. Too still. And then those golden-brown eyes lifted to her face, cold and unreadable.
“I accept your proposal.”
The calmly uttered words echoed again, sending a shiver down her spine.
No. He couldn’t be serious.
Because surely Bharat Jogra would not seriously agree to marry the woman who had humiliated him.
She had almost laughed at herself for even entertaining the idea.
She reached for her phone instinctively, Pooja’s name already forming in her mind. Pooja would shriek. Pooja would gasp at Yamini’s sheer audacity to propose marriage to the Jogra maharaja.
No. I can’t disturb her now.
Pooja was in Jaipur, juggling a high-profile event. Yamini didn’t want to distract her.
“This is ridiculous,” Yamini muttered aloud, staring at the blank wall. “He’s not actually considering a marriage to me.”
Her phone rang, distracting her momentarily.
She expected it to be Pooja, wanting to vent out about the wedding. But the screen lit up with an unfamiliar number.
“Hello?”
“Good evening, Your Highness,” a calm, older male voice said. “I’m Advocate Malhotra, representing the Jogra Royal House.”
Yamini’s heart leaped. “Yes?”
“I’m calling to inform you that the marriage contract has been prepared as per His Highness’s instructions. A physical copy has been dispatched to your residence and should reach you shortly.”
Yamini was stunned.
“Marriage contract?” she repeated.
“Yes,” he continued. “You may review the terms tonight. Any clarifications can be addressed tomorrow morning. The agreement is scheduled for execution at noon.”
Tomorrow. At noon?
“If you have any immediate questions, you may contact my office directly,” the lawyer said. “Have a good evening, Your Highness.”
The call ended.
Yamini stared at her phone.
What the hell is happening?
The doorbell rang.
She nearly jumped.
Inhaling deeply, she walked slowly towards the door and opened it to find a uniformed courier holding a thick, rectangular, sealed envelope.
“Ms. Yamini Dhar?” he asked.
“Y-Yes.”
He handed it to her with both hands. The envelope was heavy.
She signed the electronic pad, thanked the courier, and shut the door.
She placed it on the work table and sat down. The seal caught her eye immediately. A gold-embossed insignia pressed into the black wax.
The Jogra crest.
She stared at it for a long moment, her heart thudding unevenly. Then she broke the seal.
Inside was a thick black folder, smooth and cool under her fingertips. She lifted it out and opened it.
There were at least a hundred pages. Neatly printed, perfectly aligned, and on crisp white paper with sharp black text.
At the top of the first page, in bold letters.
MARRIAGE CONTRACT AND LEGAL TERMS
Below that.
Between: Maharaja Bharat Singh Jogra and Princess Yamini Gaur
Her breath caught as she saw her name beside his, printed cleanly and decisively, as though it belonged there, as though it had always been meant to.
For a moment, she simply stared.
Then she turned the page. And another.
Her eyes began to move faster, skimming through dense paragraphs filled with clauses, conditions, timelines, financial provisions, expectations of public conduct, and succession terms that seemed to go on without pause.
It didn’t stop. It continued page after page.
Yamini shut the folder halfway, her thoughts racing now, no longer scattered but trying to make sense of this.
No. This can’t be real.
He couldn’t possibly be planning to marry her.
Nothing about this made sense.
He hadn’t reacted in the office. He hadn’t looked angry, hadn’t even looked particularly interested. He had simply agreed, calmly and immediately.
Why would he agree?
The question stayed for a second longer than she expected.
Then her mind shifted.
Her gaze dropped back to the contract, this time more carefully, noticing what she had missed in her initial shock.
The details and precision of the elaborate contract.
This wasn’t something that could have been put together in a few hours.
It was impossible.
Which meant that it already existed.
Her fingers tightened on the folder as a name surfaced.
Tina Mehta.
That made far more sense.
Tina was the chief minister’s daughter. She had been hovering around him. Positioning herself. Inserting herself into his work, his meetings, his space.
The contract had been made for Tina Mehta.
The Jogra legal team was instructed to simply switch the names on the front page. Tina Mehta’s name was replaced by Princess Yamini Gaur.
Yamini’s jaw clenched as the thought settled.
Cold, manipulative bastard.
She should have known he'd play mind games.
The cold bastard was using the marriage contract meant for someone else to intimidate her.
All because she had deliberately provoked him.
She had walked into his office, challenged him directly, and this was his answer.
He thought this would scare her, that she would panic, quit the PR project, and disappear again as she had five years ago.
Slowly, her shock and panic began to wear off. And anger took root.
Does he really think he could scare me away using such tactics?
She let out an angry breath.
Never. She was never going to leave.
Not this time.
If he wanted her to leave, let him fire her. Instead of using such underhanded tactics.
She looked at the contract on the table and straightened.
The next day, she would walk into the lawyer’s office, look Maharaja Bharat Singh Jogra in the eye, and show him she wouldn’t back down.