Devanshi’s fingers tightened around the phone as she absorbed the information. Rishikesh in two days — the perfect opportunity to get face-to-face answers.

“Thank you, Niharika. Please prepare everything for the trip. I want all files organized and copies ready.”

“I’ll arrange it right away, Ma’am.”

Devanshi hung up and leaned back in her chair, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. Mr. Kakker’s name was never far from trouble. His dealings had always been questionable, but this time the documents were suspicious enough to raise red flags. She had to be cautious — the stakes were high, and Rathore Enterprises’ reputation was on the line.

A soft knock interrupted her thoughts. Her father entered, wiping his hands on a towel.

“Everything alright, princess?” he asked, concern evident in his eyes.

Devanshi gave a small, reassuring smile. “Just some unexpected complications with the Rishikesh project documents. I need to handle this carefully.”

Devraj nodded. “I trust your judgment. Remember, your Papa is here.”

She appreciated his faith but knew the weight of leadership rested heavily on her shoulders. This was more than business—it was a test of her resolve.

“Tomorrow, let’s leave early. I want to meet Mr. Kakker personally,” she said, her voice steady.

“Agreed,” Devraj said, his expression firm.

The coming days would bring challenges, but Devanshi felt ready. With her father by her side and her determination burning bright, she was prepared to face whatever lay ahead in Manali.

The crisp mountain air of Manali greeted them as Devanshi and Devraj stepped out of the sleek car, the towering pine trees casting long shadows in the fading afternoon light. The town buzzed with a rustic charm, a sharp contrast to the polished boardrooms they were used to.

Devanshi wrapped her shawl tighter around her shoulders, her eyes scanning the surroundings. This project was crucial, and every detail mattered.

Their driver navigated the winding roads to a stately estate perched on a hill — the property that Mr. Kakker claimed as his own. As they approached, a tall man in a sharp suit waited near the entrance, his posture rigid but eyes calculating.

“Mr. Kakker,” Devanshi greeted, stepping forward confidently.

He nodded, a faint smile playing on his lips. “Ms. Rathore, Mr. Rathore, welcome to Manali. I hope your journey was pleasant.”

“Thank you,” Devanshi replied, keeping her tone polite but guarded.

Devraj extended his hand.

 “We’ve come to clarify some concerns regarding the project documents you sent.”

Kakker’s smile didn’t waver. 

“Of course. Let’s discuss everything inside.”

Inside the grand drawing room, the atmosphere was heavy with unspoken tensions. Devanshi studied Mr. Kakker carefully — charming, but shrewd. She knew negotiations would be delicate.

As they sat, Kakker spread out the files on the polished mahogany table.

“I assure you, everything is above board,” he said smoothly. “Any irregularities are merely clerical errors.”

Devanshi’s gaze sharpened. “Clerical errors that could jeopardize the entire project? We need transparency, Mr. Kakker.”

He leaned forward slightly. “Business isn’t always clean, Ms. Rathore. But I’m here to make sure this deal works — for both of us.”

Devraj interjected firmly, “We expect nothing less than integrity.”

The conversation was a subtle dance of words, each probing the other’s intentions.

As the sun dipped behind the mountains, casting the room in twilight, Devanshi realized this meeting was just the beginning. To protect her family’s legacy, she’d have to navigate this terrain with both caution and courage.

The room was thick with tension as the evening shadows deepened. Devanshi kept her gaze steady on the files before her, then lifted her eyes to meet Mr. Kakker’s.

“Mr. Kakker, these documents have discrepancies that cannot be overlooked. For example, the land ownership papers show conflicting signatures, and the environmental clearances seem incomplete,” she said calmly but firmly.

Kakker’s smile tightened, though his voice remained smooth. “Minor oversights, nothing that can’t be rectified. These are preliminary drafts. We have a trusted legal team ready to finalize everything once the deal moves forward.”

Devraj’s jaw clenched slightly. “Preliminary drafts should not be presented as final. Our company’s reputation depends on absolute clarity and authenticity.”

Devanshi nodded in agreement. “We are prepared to move forward with the project, but only once all legal and environmental compliances are verified. Any breach of this understanding could lead to termination of the contract.”

Kakker leaned back, folding his hands. “Ms. Rathore, I respect your diligence. However, delays in such projects can cause financial strain. I propose a middle ground — a conditional agreement with strict timelines for clearing these issues.”

Devanshi exchanged a quick glance at him before replying. 

“We will consider a conditional agreement, but it must include penalties for missed deadlines. Additionally, our independent auditors will conduct regular inspections.”

Kakker’s eyes flickered with a hint of reluctance but he nodded. “Agreed. I will have my team coordinate with yours.”

The negotiation shifted from confrontation to cautious collaboration. Each clause was debated — timelines, penalties, resource allocations — the dance of business intricacies unfolding.

At one point, Devanshi sensed a subtle hesitation in Kakker’s demeanor when the topic of local community engagement arose.

“Rathore Enterprises believes in empowering local communities, ensuring sustainable growth. How do you intend to involve the residents here?” she asked pointedly.

Kakker smiled thinly. 

“Community relations are essential. We have preliminary plans for employment opportunities and infrastructure development.”

“But those plans must be transparent and inclusive,” Devanshi added, her tone unyielding.

The clock ticked past midnight as they finalized the framework. A tentative agreement was reached — a fragile truce built on mutual interest and wary trust.

As they stood to leave, Kakker extended his hand. “Ms. Rathore, I look forward to a successful partnership.”

Devanshi shook it firmly. “As do I, Mr. Kakker. But remember, success is built on integrity.”

Outside, the cool mountain air greeted them once again. Devanshi breathed deeply, feeling the weight of responsibility but also a renewed sense of purpose.

This was just the beginning — and she was ready to fight for her family’s legacy, come what may.

Though Rudraksha had begun applying for jobs to appease his father, there was another world where he truly found his voice—one he kept hidden from everyone, especially his family. Late at night, when the house was silent and the temple lamps had long been extinguished, Rudraksha would retreat to a small corner of his room, lit only by the soft glow of his laptop.

Here, away from the watchful eyes of his parents, he poured his thoughts into dark, intense novels—tales woven with mystery, shadow, and raw human emotion. His words bled with the struggles of souls trapped between light and darkness, reflecting battles he faced within himself.

His pen name was known in underground literary circles, praised for depth and intensity, but no one in his family knew of this secret identity.

One evening, as he typed fervently, a knock came at the door. It was Meera, bringing him a cup of warm tea.

“Beta, you’ve been locked in here all night. You need rest,” Meera said gently.

Rudraksha closed his laptop quickly, hiding the manuscript.

“I’m fine, Maa,” he said with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Meera looked concerned but didn’t press further. She only wished her son could find peace—not just in devotion or duty, but in whatever made his soul sing.

Rudraksha sipped the tea, caught between the worlds he inhabited—the dutiful son his father hoped for, the devout seeker at the temple, and the secret writer who dared to explore the darkness within.

The early morning sun painted the sky with hues of orange and pink as Rudraksha and Mohan loaded their bags into the old, sturdy jeep. The road ahead twisted through lush green hills, leading to the peaceful town of Manali.

Mohan adjusted his tie nervously, glancing at the mountains in the distance. 

“Rudraksha, I really hope this interview goes well. It could change everything for me.”

Rudraksha smiled quietly, placing a reassuring hand on his friend’s shoulder. 

“You’ve prepared well, Mohan. Just be yourself. Manali’s calm will help clear your mind.”

Mohan nodded, drawing a deep breath. 

“Thanks for coming with me. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Rudraksha’s gaze softened. 

“That’s what friends are for.”

As the jeep rumbled forward, leaving the city behind, Rudraksha felt a subtle pull at his heart — the peaceful hills ahead promising both new challenges and unexpected encounters.

The gentle bells of the ancient temple mingled with the crisp mountain air as Rudraksh stepped inside, his heart heavy but hopeful. 

He moved quietly toward the sanctum, eyes closed in reverence, murmuring, “Om Namah Shivaya…”

Meanwhile, Devanshi had also arrived at the temple, seeking a moment of peace away from the pressures of business. The vibrant red of her saree stood out against the temple’s stone walls, and her face showed a rare softness as she bowed before the deity.

As Rudraksh turned, a sudden movement startled him—Devanshi was coming from the opposite side. Neither saw the other clearly in the dim light.

Their paths collided with an unceremonious jolt, sending a small container of sindoor—that vivid vermilion powder resting solemnly on the temple’s offering table—tumbling to the ground. The pigment burst forth like spilled fire, scattering across their faces and clothing in a chaotic smear of red fate.

A suspended breath of silence followed, stretching taut between them.

Rudraksh instinctively lifted a hand to his forehead, brushing away the vibrant stain—only to lock eyes with Devanshi, her cheek similarly streaked in crimson.

Her expression soured instantly. She wiped her face with the back of her hand, her brows furrowing in visible displeasure.

"You should really watch where you're going," she snapped, her tone edged with indignation. "This isn’t a marketplace—it’s a sanctified space."

Rudraksh met her glare with disarming calm, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

"Sacred, yes," he said coolly. "But sacredness shouldn't crumble at the first sign of imperfection."

Devanshi took a sharp step forward, her voice rising like a sudden wind through temple bells.

"Imperfection? You spilled sindoor all over me. Do you even grasp what that symbolizes in a place like this?"

He tilted his head, still maddeningly composed.

"Maybe it’s a reminder," he mused, "to be present. To be aware—not just here, but in everything we do."

Devanshi’s jaw tightened.
"Spare me the fortune-cookie wisdom," she retorted. "You walk like the world owes you space."

"And you talk like the world owes you silence," Rudraksh shot back, the bite in his words finally matching hers.

For a heartbeat, the air thickened, not with reverence but with the pulse of colliding tempers.

Devanshi stepped back, brushing the last traces of sindoor from her dupatta with clipped, irritated movements.

"Whatever lesson the universe was trying to teach, I hope it gives up," she muttered.

"Well, if it was fate, I hope it’s satisfied and done meddling," Rudraksh muttered, brushing the last of the sindoor from his sleeve.

Without another word, they turned in opposite directions, their footsteps echoing in the temple courtyard like twin declarations of retreat. The vermilion-streaked floor was the only remnant of their collision—an accidental mark that neither of them wanted, and both refused to interpret.

Sneak peek- Chapter 4

“And what did you say?”

“I didn’t argue with him. But I want to change it. I don’t want our resort built on the backs of children. I want those kids in school. Fed. Safe.” Her voice cracked, just a little. “We can afford that.”

For a long moment, Devraj said nothing. His weathered face was unreadable. Then, slowly, he nodded.

“You know,” he said quietly, “when I started this company, I made a lot of choices I wasn’t proud of. I told myself I had no other option. But you... you don’t just carry the Rathore name, you carry its future. If this is how you want to run the business, I’ll support it.”