Chapter 17
Three days had passed since the terrifying showdown at Sewri Warehouse Nine.
The city of Mumbai seemed to breathe a collective sigh of relief. The monsoon rains had subsided into a warm, gentle sea breeze, and the golden tropical sun shone brightly over the Arabian Sea.
With Reyansh Khanna behind bars awaiting a long prison sentence and Victor Romano facing extradition to Italy, the dark clouds that had hung over the Malhotra and Raheja families had completely vanished.
In her sunlit bedroom at her parents' house, Shruti stood before her full-length mirror.
Her wrist bandage had been removed, leaving behind only faint pink lines that were rapidly fading.
She was dressed in an elegant pastel-yellow chiffon saree with a delicate silver border, her dark hair styled in soft, cascading waves over her shoulders.
She looked radiant, happy, and completely at peace.
Yet, despite the resolution of the corporate war, a quiet, lingering shadow hung over her heart.
Ever since Raghav had given them his full blessing at the hospital three days ago, Akhil had treated her with a gentleness that was almost painful.
He called her every morning, sent her favorite fresh lilies to her room, and made sure her every comfort was attended to.
But whenever they were together in person, Shruti noticed a subtle, cautious distance in his dark eyes.
He held her hand with exquisite softness, but he refrained from pulling her completely into his arms. He kissed her cheek, but he held back from the deep, passionate intensity they had shared in Venice.
Shruti knew him too well. Beneath his calm, handsome exterior, Akhil Raheja was fighting a quiet, internal battle with his own protective guilt.
Seeing her tied to a chair in that cold, damp warehouse, hit by Reyansh, and nearly killed by a sniper’s bullet had left a deep scar on his soul.
He blamed himself for bringing violence into her bright, cheerful world.
A soft knock at her bedroom door interrupted her thoughts.
Myra Khurana stepped into the room, wearing a striking royal-blue designer jumpsuit, holding a pair of silver heels.
"Shruti, babe! Are you ready?" Myra asked, stepping up beside her in front of the mirror. "The joint press conference and charity gala at the Grand Imperial Hotel starts in less than an hour! Half the business press in India is already packed into the main auditorium!"
Shruti adjusted her silver earring, looking at her best friend through the mirror. "I'm ready, Myra."
Myra leaned her arms against Shruti’s shoulders, looking at her reflection with sharp, perceptive eyes. "Okay, spill it, Miss Malhotra. You look gorgeous, but you've got that quiet 'I'm thinking about my stubborn billionaire' look on your face. What's going on between you and Akhil?"
Shruti let out a soft, heavy sigh, turning around to face her friend.
"He's pulling back, Myra. Oh, he’s as sweet and attentive as ever, but...
he feels guilty. He thinks that because of his high-profile life and dangerous business rivals, I will always be in danger if I stay with him.
He thinks I deserve a 'safer, quieter' life with someone else. "
Myra snorted loudly, rolling her eyes in utter disbelief. "A safer, quieter life?! Is he out of his mind?! You are a travel journalist who voluntarily hikes through tropical jungles and sleeps near active volcanoes! The last thing you need is a boring, safe life!"
"I know," Shruti smiled dryly. "I told him that in Venice, but he's Akhil Raheja. Once a thought gets stuck in his protective, stubborn brain, he builds a fortress around it."
Myra grabbed Shruti’s hands, looking directly into her eyes with fierce affection. "Then tear that fortress down, Shruti. The man literally walked into a hail of bullets alone just to reach your side. He loves you so much it terrifies him. Don't let his noble idiocy push you away."
Shruti looked at her reflection one last time, her dark eyes flashing with a sudden, fearless resolve.
"I'm not letting him push me away, Myra," Shruti stated firmly, her lips curving into a confident smile. "Tonight, I'm ending his doubts once and for all."
***
The Grand Imperial Hotel’s grand ballroom was bathed in blinding white light.
Over two hundred journalists, television camera crews, international corporate investors, and high-society figures were seated in neat rows before a massive raised stage.
The joint press conference was organized by the Raheja Group and Malhotra Logistics to formally present their victory against Reyansh Khanna's corporate fraud, announce the official launch of the Lake Como luxury resort venture, and set the record straight regarding all media rumors.
Sitting on the high stage behind a polished mahogany table were Devendra Malhotra, Raghav Malhotra, Vihaan Arora, and Akhil Raheja.
Akhil looked impossibly handsome. He was wearing a custom-tailored dark navy-blue suit, a crisp white dress shirt, and a silk tie.
His hair was neatly styled, his posture commanding and powerful.
The four small butterfly stitches above his left eye had been removed, leaving only a tiny, barely visible line that added an edge of rugged danger to his striking features.
For thirty minutes, the press conference moved smoothly. Devendra and Raghav presented legal documents proving the falsification of shipping invoices, while Vihaan presented the global marketing strategy for the European resort.
Then, the Chief Editor of Mumbai’s largest daily newspaper stood up, holding a microphone.
"Mr. Raheja," the journalist directed his question directly to Akhil. "Now that the corporate fraud against your European resort has been cleared by the police, the public is deeply curious about the personal side of this scandal."
Akhil’s dark gaze narrowed slightly, his posture turning calm and guarded. "Go ahead."
"There have been intense rumors regarding Miss Shruti Malhotra's involvement," the journalist continued, as camera lenses zoomed in on Akhil’s face.
"The police confirmed she was held hostage by Reyansh Khanna at the Sewri docks.
Given the extreme danger she faced due to her association with your corporate affairs...
do you believe it is responsible for a high-profile figure like you to involve civilians in your corporate wars?
And what is the true nature of your relationship with Miss Malhotra? "
A heavy, tense hush fell over the massive auditorium.
Sitting in the front VIP row beside her mother Kavya and Myra, Shruti felt her pulse quicken.
On stage, Akhil took a slow, heavy breath. He reached for his glass of water, took a small sip, and leaned towards his microphone.
His dark eyes drifted across the audience, finding Shruti seated in the front row in her yellow saree. A look of profound, agonizing love mixed with deep, lingering guilt flickered across his sharp features.
"Miss Shruti Malhotra," Akhil spoke into the microphone, his deep, velvety voice echoing clearly through the speakers, "is an extraordinary, independent, and brilliant award-winning travel journalist."
He paused, his gaze remaining fixed on Shruti, his voice dropping to a low, raw register that carried an unmistakable weight of emotion.
"She was dragged into a dark, cowardly corporate war simply because she possessed the courage to stand up against corruption," Akhil explained calmly, though his jaw tightened.
"She never asked for protection, and she certainly never deserved to have her life put in jeopardy because of my enemies. The fault lies entirely with me."
The journalists scribbled frantically in their notebooks.
"As for the nature of our relationship," Akhil continued, his dark eyes filled with a quiet, selfless devotion, "Miss Malhotra deserves a life filled with complete freedom, joy, and peace, a life free from corporate scandals, security threats, and dangerous rivals.
I will always guard her family as my own, but her future and her choices belong entirely to her.
She deserves someone who can offer her a safe, quiet world. "
Sitting in the front row, Shruti felt a sharp, burning knot tighten in her chest.
'He's doing it again,' she thought, her hands clenching into fists against her silk saree. 'He's trying to make my decision for me. He's trying to be a noble martyr!'
Before Raghav or Devendra could answer the next question, Shruti stood up abruptly from her front-row seat.
The entire auditorium turned in shock. Camera flashes erupted across the room as every lens swung towards the gorgeous young woman in the yellow saree standing in the aisle.
"Shruti, beta... what are you doing?" Kavya whispered anxiously, pulling her sleeve.
Shruti didn't answer her mother. She held her head high, her dark eyes flashing with a fierce, brilliant fire as she walked straight down the central aisle towards the raised stage.
On stage, Akhil froze completely. His dark eyes widened in absolute shock as he watched her approach. "Shruti...?"
Shruti walked up the side wooden steps onto the stage. Ignoring the shocked murmurs of two hundred journalists, she walked right past her brother Raghav, right past her father, and stopped directly beside Akhil’s microphone podium.
She reached out her hand, gently took the microphone from its stand, and turned around to face the entire room of cameras.
The auditorium fell into a dead, breathless silence.
"My name is Shruti Malhotra," Shruti’s voice rang out through the speakers, clear, confident, and vibrating with an electric power that captivated every person in the hall.
She looked down at the press, then turned her head slightly to look directly into Akhil’s dark, stunned eyes.