The Rajput Mansion glittered that night.

Crystal lights shimmered above polished marble floors. Businessmen, investors, industry giants, and well-known faces filled the hall, their laughter blending with soft music and clinking glasses.

It was a room full of power.

And tonight—

Kabir Rajput was the center of it.

He stepped out of his room wearing a perfectly tailored outfit—sharp, elegant, effortless. His hair was styled just enough, his confidence natural.

He looked dazzling.

Every head turned.

Every conversation paused.

The limelight followed him like it belonged to him.

People smiled, whispered, approached.

“Happy Birthday, Kabir.”
“You’re looking incredible.”
“The future star.”

Kabir greeted everyone with ease—polite, warm, composed.

Across the room, Rajveer Rajput watched his son with quiet pride. Then he walked toward him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“It’s time,” Rajveer said gently.
“Let’s cut the cake.”

The crowd gathered.

Between his parents and friends, Kabir stood before the massive cake. Cameras flashed as he cut the first slice.

He fed it first to his mother.

Kashish smiled, eyes misty.

Then to his father.

Rajveer hugged him briefly.

And then—

Kabir turned to Yuvaan.

He fed him the cake without a word.

Best friends didn’t need words.

Applause filled the hall.

As the crowd dispersed again, a young woman approached Kabir, smile a little too practiced, eyes curious.

Before Kabir could respond, Yuvaan leaned in and whispered—

“Bro… she’s hitting on you.”

Kabir suppressed a smile.

The woman spoke.

“Hi Kabir,” she said sweetly.
“I heard you got a new ad—King’s Restaurant.”

Kabir’s expression changed.

Just slightly.

Enough.

“Excuse us,” he said politely, already stepping aside.

The woman looked confused but walked away.

Kabir exhaled.

Then—

“Kabirrr!”

A voice—smooth, loud, perfectly timed.

A woman in an impeccable designer outfit walked toward him, heels clicking with authority. Her smile was wide, charming, rehearsed.

“Happy birthday!” she said warmly.
“Kabir, my son.”

Kabir stiffened.

She looked flawless.

Too flawless.

The accent was fake.
The smile was fake.
Even the warmth in her eyes was calculated.

Nisha Singh.

Owner of a powerful production house.
A well-known name in the industry.
A woman who could turn careers into heaven—

Or hell.

She reached him and held his arms lightly.

“You’re looking dazzling tonight,” she said, eyes scanning him like a finished product.
“Absolutely perfect.”

Kabir forced a polite smile.

Inside—

Alarm bells rang.

This was the woman Mr. Bansal had warned him about.
The woman he had indirectly refused.

And she hadn’t come to wish him.

She had come to remind him who held the power.

Yuvaan took one step closer to Kabir, instinctively.

The music played.
Guests laughed.

But for Kabir—

The party had just turned into a battlefield.

The music lowered slightly as Nisha Singh gracefully took the mic.

She gave a soft, practiced laugh.

“Today is a very big day for Kabir… and I hope I’m not stealing the limelight,” she said sweetly, placing her hand dramatically over her chest. “Sorry…”

The apology was fake.

Some guests exchanged confused looks.
Some were surprised.
A few business heads looked mildly irritated — they didn’t like unexpected announcements.

Kabir stood still.

His jaw tightened.

What are you doing, Nisha?

He could feel it — she had a plan.

Rajveer and Kashish looked at each other. They were confused, but calm. To them, Nisha Singh was a respected name in the industry. Polite. Professional. Supportive of their son.

They didn’t know—

Nisha Singh always gets what she wants.

And if she doesn’t get it sweetly…

She takes it strategically.

Nisha continued.

“Today we are gathered to celebrate our birthday boy… Kabir Rajput. Our rising supermodel.”

Light applause.

She turned toward him with a glowing smile.

“And I wanted you all to know that Kabir is reaching new heights in his career.”

Kabir’s eyes darkened.

She paused for effect.

“He is becoming the first-ever brand ambassador of… King’s Restaurant.”

For a split second—

Silence.

Then a few claps started from the back.

“Please cheer for him!”

Some guests clapped politely.

But others…

They knew.

King’s Restaurant was the biggest rival of Rajput Restaurant.

The tension shifted instantly.

Kabir didn’t clap.
He didn’t smile.

He looked furious.

His parents’ expressions changed slowly.

Kashish’s smile faded first.

Rajveer’s face hardened.

They didn’t know about this.

Kabir hadn’t signed.

He had refused.

Nisha turned to him, still smiling, and extended her hand as if inviting him forward.

“Say something, Kabir.”

That was the trap.

If he denied it now —
It would look unprofessional.
It would look like he backed out after commitment.

If he stayed silent —
The industry would assume it’s true.

His father’s eyes were now on him.

Not angry.

Just… waiting.

Yuvaan stepped closer, whispering under his breath—

“She played you.”

Kabir inhaled slowly.

The hall felt hotter.

Every businessman.
Every camera.
Every competitor.

Watching.

Nisha leaned closer to him and murmured quietly, her smile still perfect.

“Careful what you say next, Kabir.”

That wasn’t advice.

It was a warning.

The Rajput name was at stake.
His father’s legacy was at stake.
His own career was hanging between ego and strategy.

And Nisha Singh?

She looked victorious.

The applause slowly faded.

All eyes were still on him.

Kabir adjusted his cuff calmly.

No anger on his face.
No panic.
Just composure.

He took the mic from Nisha — gently.

“Thank you, Ms. Singh,” he said politely.

That surprised her.

His tone was smooth. Controlled.

He looked at the crowd.

“First of all, thank you everyone for being here today. It means a lot to me.”

A few heads nodded.

He continued—

“As for the announcement… I’m truly grateful that brands consider me worthy of such opportunities.”

Pause.

He glanced briefly at his father.

“However,” he added calmly, “nothing has been finalized yet.”

The room shifted again.

Nisha’s smile stiffened.

Kabir kept going.

“I believe in taking decisions carefully. Especially when it comes to professional commitments.”

His voice was respectful.

Measured.

No accusation.

No denial.

Just… clarity.

“And I also believe,” he added, looking toward Rajveer, “that growth should never come at the cost of values.”

That line hit.

Some businessmen exchanged looks.

Rajveer’s eyes softened.

Kabir smiled lightly.

“So when the right collaboration aligns with both my career and my principles… I’ll be happy to announce it officially.”

Polite applause followed.

He handed the mic back to Nisha.

Gracefully.

No fight.

No embarrassment.

But her “announcement” now sounded premature.

She couldn’t accuse him of lying.

He hadn’t refused publicly.

But he hadn’t agreed either.

Diplomatic. Clean. Smart.

Yuvaan leaned close and whispered—

“Bro… that was dangerous.”

Kabir smirked slightly.

“Let her think she’s winning.”

Across the room, Nisha’s eyes narrowed just a little.

She wasn’t used to being handled like that.

Not by a 24-year-old model.

Rajveer stepped forward then, placing a proud hand on his son’s shoulder.

“Well said.”

And just like that—

Kabir didn’t lose face.

He gained respect.

The party had thinned.

Laughter faded into distant murmurs. Crystal glasses clinked softly in the background. The night air outside the Rajput mansion carried a slight chill.

Kabir had just stepped toward the balcony when he heard it—

“Kabir… my son.”

He paused.

Of course.

He turned.

Nisha walked toward him gracefully, her heels clicking softly against the marble floor. Her smile was warm. Too warm.

“You handled the news very well,” she said, tilting her head slightly. “I’m impressed.”

Kabir gave a polite nod. “Thank you, ma’am.”

She chuckled lightly.

“I honestly thought you might panic. Sudden announcements can shake young talent.” She touched his arm gently. “But you surprised me.”

Kabir held her gaze calmly.

Inside, he knew.

This wasn’t praise.

This was repositioning.

“I was just testing you,” she continued smoothly. “To see how you manage pressure.”

Kabir didn’t react.

Testing?

On his birthday.
In front of his family.
Without consent.

But his face showed nothing.

“That’s kind of you,” he replied evenly.

Nisha’s eyes flickered — she knew he wasn’t buying it.

She shifted.

“And about the Kings advertisement…” she sighed dramatically. “Forget it. I will not force you. If you don’t want to do it, that’s totally fine. The company can choose another model.”

A deliberate pause.

“But,” she continued gently, lowering her voice, “I have something much bigger for you.”

Kabir stayed quiet.

Hook delivered.

“After one month, we are launching a premium campaign. International level. Switzerland shoot. Ten days.”

She let that sink in.

“For a luxury watch brand.”

His expression didn’t change, but he was listening carefully now.

“And,” she added softly, “you’ll be paired with the top heroine of our film industry.”

She smiled knowingly.

“You know her.”

Of course he did. Everyone did.

It was the kind of collaboration that launches someone from model to national obsession overnight.

“This project,” she said, stepping closer, “can take your career somewhere you’ve never imagined.”

There it was.

Temptation. Prestige. Validation.

“And for this,” she finished sweetly, “I expect professionalism. Full commitment.”

Translation: loyalty.

Kabir finally spoke.

“Well, ma’am… I’ll try my best.”

Calm. Controlled.

“And thank you for understanding my decision regarding the other advertisement.”

Nisha waved her hand lightly.

“Oh, forget the past. Let’s focus on your bright future.”

Her eyes held his just a second longer than necessary.

“I’ll send the details through Bansal. He’ll inform you. It’s a ten-day schedule.”

Then she stepped back.

“Good night, Kabir.”

And she walked away.

Kabir stood still for a moment.

Switzerland.

Top heroine.

International brand.

It sounded like a dream.

But something about it felt… strategic.

Too strategic.

From inside the hall, Yuvaan appeared, watching Nisha leave.

“She looks like she just set a trap,” he muttered.

Kabir exhaled slowly.

“Maybe.”

His jaw tightened slightly.

“But I need to know what game she’s playing.”

Because Nisha Singh never offered something without wanting something in return.

And Kabir Rajput had just entered a new level of the chessboard.