.The grand double doors of Sisodia Empire’s head office flew open at exactly 9:00 a.m., the sound of polished leather shoes echoing across marble floors.

Silence fell like a command.

Assistants straightened their backs. Interns looked down. Even the senior executives stole glances from behind their laptops, too wary to hold his gaze for more than a second.

Devraj Pratap Sisodia had arrived.

He was a man who didn’t need to raise his voice to be feared. Power wasn’t something he wore — it was something he was. It followed him like a second skin, like the weight of his bloodline — royal, pure, and centuries deep.

The last king of Rajasthan still walked among boardrooms in custom-tailored suits.

“Where’s the file from the legal team?” he asked, not looking up.

His assistant, shaking slightly, rushed behind him, files in hand. “I-it’s here, Sir. I was just—”

He took it without another word, flipping through it with the quiet precision of a man who didn’t tolerate delays — or excuses. His brows furrowed, eyes sharp, movements efficient.

“Tell Sharma to rework Clause 6. This won’t hold in international arbitration.”

“Yes, Sir.”

He walked through his office — a sleek mix of heritage and modernity. Traditional sandstone sculptures met chrome-finished edges. Behind his desk was a framed sword once held by his grandfather, the Maharaja of Udaipur. And just above it, a quiet reminder in gold lettering:

"Legacy is not inherited. It is proven."

Devraj didn’t just rule a business empire. He was a king born in the wrong century, carrying a crown no one could see — and yet, everyone bowed to.

He took his seat, resting his hands on the desk, his silver watch catching the morning light.

One of the board members dared to knock.

“Sir… the royal council has requested your presence in Udaipur next week. They say—”

“I’ll go,” Devraj said simply.

“But it conflicts with the Japan investors—”

“They’ll wait,” he replied, voice calm but absolute.

Because when a king moves, the world adjusts. Not the other way around.

And Devraj Pratap Sisodia had learned to move in silence, to command without noise, and to trust no one — not even those who bowed at his feet.

He didn’t believe in distractions. Emotions were weaknesses. And love?

That word didn’t belong in his vocabulary.

At least, not yet.

__________________________

The tension in the Rajyavardhan mansion was almost unbearable. The walls, once witnesses to laughter and warmth, now echoed with the sharp sound of raised voices and broken trust.

Srisha stood in the center of the living room, eyes flaring with frustration, arms crossed tightly over her chest. Her father, Abhijit Rajyavardhan, stood across from her, shoulders squared, anger lining the edges of his proud face. Beside him was her older brother — her protector, her anchor — Bhai, whose silence was far more dangerous than any shout.

“How many times, Princess?” her father said sternly, the title rolling off his tongue like both affection and warning. “How many times do we have to tell you that he’s not the right man for you?”

Srisha’s voice trembled but her words were steady. “Papa, you don’t even know him. You judge him based on your assumptions, not on who he is with me.”

“He lies, Srisha,” Bhai cut in, arms crossed, his tone razor-sharp. “You think it’s love because he talks sweetly and makes you feel special. But people like him — they’re good at pretending.”

“He’s not pretending!” she shouted, tears welling up. “You’re just being overprotective as always—”

“We are protective,” Abhijit snapped. “Because you’re our daughter. Our Princess. And you’re too blinded to see that he’s playing you.”

Bhai stepped forward, eyes dark and serious. “You think he loves you? Then where is he now?”

“He’s on a business trip—” Srisha began, only to falter mid-sentence.

Her father raised a brow. “He told you he’s gone on a business trip, right?”

She nodded slowly.

“Then go,” he said firmly. “If you trust him so much, go to him. Surprise him. Prove us wrong.”

Srisha’s lips parted. The air felt heavier now. “I… I don’t know where he is.”

The silence that followed was louder than any accusation.

“You don’t know?” Bhai asked, voice flat. “He didn’t tell you anything?”

She looked away, guilt and doubt creeping up her spine. “Just that it was in France. Some meetings.”

Bhai scoffed under his breath and turned to Abhijit. “I’ll find out. Just give me an hour.”

“I don’t need you to spy on my boyfriend!” Srisha shouted.

He turned back to her, voice calm but firm. “And I don’t need permission to protect my sister.”

“Bhai—”

“No,” he said sharply. “You’re our princess. He doesn’t get to lie to you and walk away like it means nothing.”

Abhijit walked over, placing a heavy hand on her shoulder. “Beta, real love doesn’t ask you to guess. It doesn’t leave you unsure. If he truly cared for you, you wouldn’t be standing here trying to fill in blanks.”

Srisha blinked rapidly, trying to keep her tears from falling. Kunal’s smile flashed in her memory. The way he called her baby, the way he looked at her like she was his world. But now… that world felt shaky. Unfamiliar.

She turned away, unsure if it was out of shame or heartbreak.

The first crack had formed.

And her heart — the one she’d given away so trustingly — had started to tremble.

____________________

I stared at the printed paper in Bhai’s hand like it might burn me.

He had just handed it to me — all the details, the address, flight information, everything. Kunal’s business trip... laid bare in a folder like a case report. My stomach twisted. My hands refused to move.

“You wanted to know where he is,” Bhai said gently but firmly. “Now you do.”

I looked at him, my chest rising and falling. “I don’t need this. I trust him.”

Bhai’s jaw tightened. “Princess, you said he was in France. But even you didn’t know where exactly. What kind of man leaves his girlfriend in the dark and calls it love?”

“I don’t want to spy on him,” I muttered. “I’m not that kind of person.”

“You’re not spying,” Papa’s voice entered the room, steady and calm like always. “You’re seeing the truth for yourself.”

I turned toward him. Papa wasn’t angry. He didn’t look disappointed either. There was something deeper in his eyes — something between hurt and hope. The kind of look a father wears when he knows his daughter is about to get her heart broken, but also knows he can’t protect her from it forever.

“If you find him innocent,” Papa continued, stepping forward, “I’ll agree to your marriage. I won’t say a word against him again. That’s a promise.”

The room stilled.

My breath caught. “You… you’re serious?”

He nodded. “I’m keeping my word. Now it’s time for you to see if he keeps his.”

I looked down at the folder again, my fingers tightening at my sides. Fear pooled in my chest — heavy, cold, and unshakable. What if they were right? What if Kunal wasn’t who I thought he was?

But then I thought about his smile, the way he touched my face, the way he called me baby when no one else was listening. Could all of that be fake?

“I’m scared,” I whispered, the truth finally slipping out of my mouth.

Bhai came closer and placed his hand gently on my shoulder. “You have every right to be. But you’re brave too, Princess. Brave enough to love — now be brave enough to know the truth.”

I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and nodded slowly.

“All right,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll go.”

Papa didn’t say anything, just reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear like he used to when I was a little girl. “Whatever happens, we’re here. Always.”

That was the moment I realized this wasn’t about proving them wrong anymore.

It was about proving something to myself.

And maybe… finally waking up from a dream I didn’t want to end.

_____________________

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