Chapter Four
Author's POV
The grand doors of the Rathore Mansion opened with a soft creak as Pratap Rathore, patriarch of one of India's most powerful families, walked in with quiet authority.
His trip to the temple had cleared his mind, but his heart longed for the warmth of home-the laughter of children, the scent of incense, and the comfort of legacy.
As he passed the marble columns, he heard light laughter echoing from the grand living room. He paused, his face softening.
There, on the plush velvet sofas beneath a chandelier older than most dynasties, sat his grandchildren-Kritika, Rahul, Kiaan, and Ishita. They were chatting, teasing, and giggling-children of power, yet full of youth.
"Dadu!" Kritika's excited voice pierced the air.
They leapt up and ran to him.
"Grandpa, where were you?" Ishita pouted, hugging him tightly.
"Mandir gaya tha, meri jaan. Kuch baatein thi Bhagwan se."
(I went to the temple, my dear. Had some things to speak with God.)
Rahul rolled his eyes playfully. "With God or with yourself, Dadu?"
Pratap chuckled. "Dono se."
(Both.)
"Aapne toh aate hi drama shuru kar diya," Kiaan teased.
(You started the drama the moment you entered.)
"Tum sab hi toh meri drama ho," he laughed, embracing them all.
Just then, the click of heels echoed through the corridor. All eyes turned toward the staircase.
Descending like a queen from an old painting was Avantika Aavyan Rathore-bold, stunning, and dressed in a structured i
vory saree paired with a pearl blouse. Her eyes were sharp, her posture straight, and her presence commanded attention.
She was not just the eldest daughter-in-law-she was the pride of the Rathore household. Fierce, respectful, intelligent. A lawyer by education and a lioness by instinct.
She reached the base of the stairs and gracefully bent to touch Pratap's feet.
"Khush raho, Avantika. Tum toh is khandaan ka shaan ho."
(Be blessed, Avantika. You're the pride of this family.)
"Aavyan kahaan hai?" he asked. (Where is Aavyan?)
"Yahin hoon, Dadu."
Aavyan walked down adjusting his Rolex, his expression soft and casual.
He touched Pratap's feet.
"Jeete raho, beta."
(Stay blessed, son.)
Before more conversation could start, Gayatri and Damini entered and called out:
"Sab log nashtay ke liye aa jao!"
(Everyone come for breakfast!)
Gayatri and Damini didn't take their seats as they waited for their husbands.
As per tradition, they waited for their husbands to join before taking their seats. When Devraj and vikrant took their seats,dishes were served in shining silver, and the air filled with the aroma of fresh parathas, chutneys, and masala tea.
Kritika and Ishita were bickering over mango slices. Laughter echoed again.
Then everything changed.
Footsteps.
Precise. Cold. Heavy.
And then he appeared.
Aansh Rathore.
Dressed in an all-black suit, with black cufflinks and a silver chain on his wrist, he walked down the staircase like he owned gravity itself. Not a single wrinkle on his clothes. Not a single emotion on his face. His hair was slicked back, jaw sharp, and eyes-deadly still.
"Woh aa gaya..." Rahul whispered under his breath. (He's here...)
"Aansh, beta. Aao nashta kar lo." Pratap said with hope.
(Come, have breakfast, son.)
Aansh bent just slightly to touch his grandfather's feet and then straightened.
"Main is natak mein hissa nahi leta."
(I don't take part in such nonsense.)He said looking at his parents. Devraj felt anger but decided to keep quiet
Without waiting, he turned to Aavyan.
"Let's go."
And they were gone.
---
At Rathore Corporation;
The Rathore Corporation stood like a king in glass and steel-Asia's most powerful business empire.
When Aansh entered the building, the air shifted.
Employees stood straighter. Conversations died. No one dared meet his eyes.
They weren't just intimidated-they were terrified.
He passed the reception. The guard bowed without looking up. Interns moved aside as if parting for a storm.
Inside the boardroom, an executive was presenting on the Singapore merger-hands trembling.
Aansh entered silently and took his place at the head of the table, eyes fixed on the presenter.
"Mr. Khurana. What. Happened. To. The. Deal?"
The man fumbled, voice breaking.
"S-Sir... we were close, but they pulled out last minute... I-I didn't think-"
Bang.
Aansh slammed the file on the table. Everyone jumped.
"You didn't think? Then what are you doing here? Thinking is literally your only job."
"Sir-please, I-"
"You're fired. You embarrassed my name and this company. Get out."
He didn't shout. He didn't need to.
The silence afterward was louder than any explosion.
Aansh's Office;
After the meeting, Aansh walked into his private office, a grand space of obsidian marble and black leather.
No personal photos. No distractions. Just a giant desk, a liquor cabinet, and a city skyline that bowed before him.
He poured himself a drink and sat back, staring at nothing.
Then came the voice.
"Damn, bro. You run your office like a mafia den."
Karthik Singhania, Aansh's only friend, strolled in with his usual swagger and zero filter.
"Why are you here? Don't you have a company to run?" Aansh massaging his temples.
"Yes, but being here gives me thrill." Karthik spoke taking a seat.
"Sometimes I think you're secretly gay. You never look at a woman. Not once. You're too... intense."
Aansh didn't blink wondering where his question came from.a?aa
Then he spoke, voice low and dangerous:
"Main kisi aurat ki aankhon mein pyaar nahi, bas kamzori dekhta hoon. Aur kamzor log mujhe pasand nahi."
(In a woman's eyes, I don't see love-I see weakness. And I don't like weak people.)
Karthik stared for a second.
"Damn. That's... actually scary."
Aansh looked at him. One brow raised.
"Then stop thinking. You're not very good at it. Now get out, I have work to do."
Sighing,Karthik stood up, "Your no fun man, let me go find something else to do."
He left, leaving Aansh to Bury himself in work.
Rathore Corporation
Our Aansh
Karthik Singhania
Aavyan Rathore
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