“Hello, Kavya.”

Taniskh Chandravanshi’s voice was calm, but underneath it simmered a quiet urgency. He stood in his penthouse office, staring blankly at the cityscape as his phone pressed against his ear.

“Yes, sir,” Kavya responded smoothly. Her voice was always composed — professional to a fault.

“I need a private investigator. Immediately.”

There was the sound of typing on her end, fast and efficient.

“Understood. You’ll get a number in less than a minute.”

He didn't respond. He didn’t need to.

Moments later, his phone buzzed again. Kavya was still on the line.

“I’ve just sent the contact, sir. His name is... Sharlock Gill.”

Taniskh raised an eyebrow, a dry chuckle slipping from his lips. “Sharlock Gill? Is this a prank or does he come with a magnifying glass too?”

“He comes recommended,” Kavya said, unfazed. “Don’t let the name fool you.”

Still skeptical, Taniskh sighed and switched to the number she had sent, merging the call so she remained silently on the line.

He pressed Call. The phone rang twice before someone picked up.

“Hello. Sharlock Gill speaking.”

His voice was confident, casual — almost too casual for someone in his profession. It lacked the weight Taniskh expected.

“This is Taniskh Chandravanshi.”

There was a beat. Then, “Mr. Chandravanshi, it’s a pleasure. What can I do for you?”

Taniskh hesitated, glancing out the window again as the golden sunset gave way to deeper hues.

“I need your help with something… unusual.”

“I specialize in unusual,” Sharlock replied. “Go on.”

“It’s about my wedding,” Taniskh said, his tone shifting. “My best friend — Kashish — and I were forced into it. We had a plan. We agreed she’d run away before the ceremony. Neither of us wanted this marriage.”

“But she didn’t run,” Sharlock guessed.

“No,” Taniskh said tightly. “She walked down that aisle and married me. Like none of our conversations ever happened. I need to know why.”

There was a pause on the line. Sharlock finally said, “You think someone changed her mind? Threatened her?”

“I don’t know. But it wasn’t her choice. I know her better than anyone — or I thought I did.”

Sharlock let out a soft whistle. “Alright. This could get interesting.”

Taniskh’s eyes narrowed. Something about the man’s tone rubbed him the wrong way — a little too playful, a little too unserious.

“You’re sure you can handle this?” he asked.

“Let’s just say, if there's a truth buried under this mess — I’ll find it.”

Taniskh didn’t answer. He ended the call.

Silence settled back into the room… until he realized Kavya was still on the line.

“You’re still here,” he said, turning away from the window.

“Yes, sir. You didn’t end the call.”

There was a pause. Tension flickered between them, even across the phone line.

He took a breath. 

“This Sharlock Gill… is he legit?”

There was a pause — just long enough to feel like she was either checking or judging him.

“He comes highly recommended. Solved two corporate fraud cases and a political scandal last year. And he’s young — around your age. But very sharp.”

Taniskh looked down at the name on his phone again.

“Alright,” he said finally. “Let’s see what Mr. Sharlock Gill can uncover.”

Outside, the sky deepened into twilight — the perfect hour for secrets to start crawling out of their shadows

Home.

It didn’t feel like one anymore — not really. The marble floors were too cold, the chandeliers too still. Everything looked picture-perfect, untouched. Like a model house no one really lived in.

But then there was the smell.

Warm. Familiar. Spiced.

Taniskh paused at the doorway to the kitchen, surprised.

Shree stood by the stove, her back to him, moving with quiet focus. Her dupatta was tucked in neatly at her waist as she stirred something in a steel bowl. The cooker whistled once — a sharp, sudden breath — before she turned down the flame and reached for the coriander.

She hadn’t noticed him yet.

The scene felt... distant. Like a memory from another life.

He stepped closer.

She sensed him then.

Shree turned, startled for half a second, then softened. Her eyes crinkled at the edges. “You’re home early. Sahib.”

“Didn’t feel like staying late,” he replied.

He watched as she wiped her hands on the end of her dupatta and smiled again. A quiet, genuine smile — the kind that didn’t come with expectations or hidden motives.

“I made dal,” she said, nodding toward the cooker. “And bhindi with Roti. You should freshen up. Dinner will be ready in ten minutes.”

Taniskh didn’t move.

He just watched her — the soft curl of her hair behind her ear, the turmeric smudge on her wrist, the way she tilted her head slightly when she spoke.

For a moment, the storm brewing in his life — the betrayals, the lies, the deals made in his name — all faded.

“Hmm” he said quietly.

The next morning, Taniskh sat at the edge of his office desk, still in the same black shirt from last night, sleeves rolled up, collar unbuttoned. He hadn't slept — not really. His mind had looped through every detail of that day. The lie beneath the vows.

His phone vibrated.

Sharlock Gill.

He answered without hesitation.

“Good morning, Mr. Chandravanshi,” came Sharlock’s casual voice, as if he were calling to discuss coffee.

“What did you find?”

Sharlock didn’t waste time. “It’s not good. You were right — something was off.”

Taniskh stood, tension crawling up his spine. “Tell me.”

There was a rustle of papers on Sharlock’s end. “Your wife didn’t run because she was never meant to. She was... redirected.”

“By who?”

“Your father,” Sharlock said. “And hers.”

Taniskh’s heart sank into his gut.

“Akhand Chandravanshi and Parth Aswar,” Sharlock continued.

Taniskh’s voice dropped to a whisper. “And they went behind our backs?”

“They didn’t just go behind your backs, Mr. Chandravanshi,” Sharlock said. “They set a trap. Kashish was prepared to leave. She packed a bag, made plans, even wrote a letter as per plan— which was never delivered.”

Taniskh’s blood ran cold. “What happened?”

“She was intercepted at the wedding. Her father showed up. So did yours. She was threatened..”

Silence stretched between them.

“You’re sure?” Taniskh asked, though part of him already knew.

“I have records. Phone logs. Staff testimony..”

Taniskh took a slow, measured breath. “Send me everything.”

“You’ll have it in ten minutes,” Sharlock replied. “But, Mr. Chandravanshi… I don’t think this is just about a wedding. Your father’s been moving assets around — companies, shell deals, land acquisitions in Parth’s name. This marriage wasn’t about love, or even control. It was a merger.”

Taniskh closed his eyes.

“A merger,” he repeated.

“Between two empires.”

Sharlock paused, then added, “You were just the signature.”

Taniskh didn’t speak. He ended the call without another word.

Taniskh stared out at the skyline, the empire his father built — not with vision, but with manipulation and control. Now it was his. But at what cost?

And more importantly — how much of it could he burn down before it consumed him?

Dinner sat warm on the table, but Taniskh barely touched his plate.

Shree had returned to her room after a quiet exchange, sensing he needed space. And he did.

He stood by the large window of his study now, hands in his pockets, eyes scanning the night beyond the glass. The city blinked back — lights, towers, distant noise. All of it buzzing beneath the weight of his father’s empire.

Akhand Chandravanshi.

A man feared by rivals and revered by politicians. Always five steps ahead. Always the one pulling strings.

And then there was Parth Aswar — Kashish’s father. 

You were just the signature.
Sharlock’s words echoed again.

They had traded him and Kashish like two pawns on a chessboard — a merger inked in bloodlines. They called it tradition. Family honor. But it was control. Pure and cruel.

Taniskh clenched his jaw.

He had spent years following rules. Meeting expectations. Playing the part of the obedient son. But not anymore.

They thought they could play with their children’s lives.

They were wrong.

He walked slowly to his desk, sat down, and leaned back in the chair. The leather creaked beneath him. His fingers tapped the armrest in rhythm with his thoughts.

He didn’t want revenge — not the reckless kind. He wanted clarity. Exposure. A truth so undeniable that neither Akhand nor Parth could hide behind legacy again.

How do you make two powerful men listen?

You hit them where it hurts — not in the wallet. Not in the press.

In their control.

Because that's all they ever wanted. Control over their image. Their children. Their empire.

A small, cold smile curved on Taniskh’s lips.

He knew what to do now.

“I’ll make them understand,” he whispered to the silence. “But on my terms. In my way.”

No shouting. No chaos.

Just precision.

He reached for his phone and dialed.

The doors of the Chandravanshi estate burst open mid-morning — unexpected, unannounced.

The estate staff scattered, startled by the sudden arrival. Tanishk strode in with calm purpose, dressed in an ivory sherwani, its golden embroidery catching the light like flames dancing in defiance. His hair was neatly styled, face composed — the perfect picture of a groom.

But it wasn’t just him.

By his side walked a young woman, draped in a red bridal lehenga, the deep sindoor in her parted hair gleaming against her golden brown skin. Shree walked quietly, head held down — not in shame, but in the weighted humility of someone walking into the storm knowing she could be its eye.

The chandeliers above flickered slightly, as if reacting to the tension already rising in the air.

Malini Devi stepped into the hallway, adjusting her dupatta with mild irritation. But the moment she saw her son, fully dressed like a groom, her footsteps halted.

And when she saw the woman beside him, her breath caught in her throat.

“What the hell is this, Tanishk?!”
Her voice echoed like a crack of thunder in the ancestral halls.

Tanishk stood firm, gaze calm but unflinching. “Maa sa,” he said, “she is my wife—Shree. And the mother of my child.”

Silence. Absolute. Dead.

Tarini froze mid-step on the staircase, her mouth parted in disbelief.

A servant dropped the silver tray he was carrying.

Akhand Chandravanshi entered the scene moments later, drawn by the noise. When he saw his son in wedding attire — and the unfamiliar girl beside him — he didn’t even blink.

“Explain. Now,” he said coldly.

“I already did,” Tanishk replied, voice even. “This is Shree. My wife. We got married yesterday in a temple outside the city. And she’s carrying my child.”

There was a beat.

Then—

SLAP.

The sound rang out like a whip against silence.

Malini’s hand had struck across Tanishk’s cheek.

Tanishk didn’t move.

Didn’t flinch.

Malini’s voice trembled, not from weakness — but from fury laced with heartbreak.

“You’re lying. You’re lying. You dare walk into this house, wearing these clothes, with her—and expect me to accept this circus?”

Tanishk turned to her, calm as ever.
“I didn’t come for your acceptance. I came for your attention. Baba sa wanted a signed marriage,here it is.”

He took out a marriage certificate. He gestured to Shree gently.

“Real. Married. Legal. And carrying the legacy you all worship more than people.”

Akhand’s jaw clenched.
“You are not my son,” he said, voice colder than marble.
“No Chandravanshi will disgrace this house with a random girl off the street!”

Tanishk stepped closer, eyes dark now.

“You can’t disrespect her, say whatever you wanted to me…no to her..!!”

Malini turned to Shree now, voice shaking.
“You—who are you? What spell did you cast on my son?”

Shree stepped forward slowly. She didn’t raise her voice. She didn’t cry.

“Shree is my wife Maa sa.”

Tanishk placed a hand on her back gently. Protective. Steady.

Sneak peek- Chapter 24

She swallowed, staring at the mirror like it might answer back.

“You didn’t just humiliate yourself today. You humiliated me. In front of the same family I’ve kept stitched together with silence. With patience.”

A long breath.