Chapter 1:

6:30 a.m.

29 May, Wednesday, 2024

Anika's POV

I exhaled slowly, feeling the pleasant lightness spread through my muscles after the last stretch of my workout. Morning exercise had always been my mood-lifter—it cleared my head before the chaos began. And chaos it always was: signing deals, attending back-to-back meetings, sitting with national and international clients, enduring business parties, dinners, and even endless property visits.

From the wide gym window, I let my eyes rest on the sprawling garden below—lush with flowers and tall trees, dotted with shaded seating areas. All of it lay within my estate walls, my private little paradise. The early sunlight spilled over it, making the scene almost too beautiful to look away from.

I was still lost in the calm when my phone rang, slicing through the peace like an irritating alarm. I groaned at the noise, turned, and picked it up from the chair beside me.

"Yes, Anika speaking."

"Dr. Anika, this is Mrs. Donatella Goodenough. Good morning to you."

"Oh—morning, Mrs. Goodenough. What’s the reason for such an early call?" I asked, patting my face dry with the white towel a maid had handed me.

"You’re quite famous worldwide, Dr. Anika," she said in her usual refined, elegant tone.

Despite the air of grace that clung to her, Mrs. Donatella Goodenough was—ironically—good for nothing.

"You have a point," I replied evenly. "But let’s get to the point, please. I have meetings to attend soon."

"Of course. I had booked an appointment with your secretary two weeks ago. I wanted to personally request that you walk the runway for our new line—our designers have created a dress especially inspired by your fashion sense."

I had known this was coming; I’d already turned the offer down once.

"Mrs. Goodenough, I don’t have time for a runway right now. I’ll be leaving for a month-long business trip to Italy starting tomorrow. You’ll need to find someone else. Have a nice day."

And with that, I hung up.

I don’t walk for brands so insignificant that even one-tenth of India’s population has never heard of them.

Sliding the phone into the pocket of my shorts, I stepped out of the second-floor gym and started toward my own floor—the third. My mansion was organized like my life: the ground floor held the main living area, the first floor was my office and study, the second was the gym, and the third was entirely my private space.

I headed for the lift, but my thoughts wandered as they often did.

Life is unpredictable. One moment you’re blowing out candles with your parents smiling beside you, the next they’re gone. Sometimes life gives you the sweetest gifts, but its cruelest blows leave wounds that never close.

Four years ago, on the night of my 22nd birthday, my parents died.

Their car rolled over after hitting a hole in the road. The police had filed it as an accident—lack of evidence, they said. But I knew better. It was no accident.

Since that night, the nightmares came and never left. Every dream ended the same—I lost them all over again. Parasomnia had become a constant shadow in my life.

I had never wanted for love or money. My grandparents, uncle, aunt, sister, and cousins were still here, still loving me. But even their warmth couldn’t fill the hollow my parents had left behind.

The lift arrived with a soft ding, snapping me out of thought. I stepped inside, pressing for the fourth floor. Above that was the most important—and most secret—level in the house: the fifth floor, home to rows of supercomputers and some of the world’s best hackers. My wealth and influence weren’t built on luck.

The mansion was vast enough to hold my entire family comfortably… and still keep its secrets.

The doors slid open to the scent of warm chocolate muffins drifting through the air.

I tied my hair into a loose, messy bun as I walked into the kitchen. Maya di was at the counter, busy with breakfast.

"Morning, di," I greeted, sliding into a seat at the kitchen island.

"Morning, Ani. What time are you heading out today?"

I tapped my fingers lightly on the island, pretending to think. "Maybe 8:30. Why?"

She wiped her hands on her white cherry-printed apron and walked toward me. The way she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear made my stomach tighten—she only did that when she had bad news.

"They’re coming this evening to ask for my hand, aren’t they?"

She froze, then nodded.

I sighed, turning my gaze toward the open kitchen window. "Why can’t dadi see what’s right in front of her?"

"I tried to tell her," Maya di said softly. "I told her he’s not the man he pretends to be, but he’s clever. He acts kind, and she’s fallen for it. She only wants what’s good for you, Ani—you know that."

"I know," I admitted. "But if this isn’t in my control, I’ll make sure it will be."

She tilted her head. "What are you planning?"

I met her eyes. "Trust me."

"You know I do."

I nodded.

I hated that man. Hated how flawless he seemed. Hated how my family compared me to him. And most of all, I hated how quickly he’d thrown my life into chaos.

Flashback

It had started with a call from dadi two months ago.

"Yes, dadi?"

"How are you, dear?" Her voice was as warm and polished as always. Even in her late years, she carried herself with the same elegance that had once made her a force in business.

"I’m fine. But you just called two days ago—what’s going on?"

"Can’t I call my granddaughter without a reason?" she teased.

"Of course you can. But you’re usually busy, so I wondered."

There was a pause. "It’s about something we’ve never discussed seriously before—marriage."

I didn’t miss a beat. "You’ve found someone, haven’t you?" I asked right away. I knew her because after all, I had learnt all these strategies of slowly putting the point in certain situations in such a way that the person in front of you cannot deny.

Her silence confirmed it.

"Dadi, I told you I’m not ready for marriage." I stood and walked toward the glass wall of my office, Jaipur city stretching out beneath me.

"I know, beta. But you’ve already built the independence and success you wanted. You’ve made a name for yourself. Now, please, listen to us."

I rarely refused her anything.

"Fine. Who is he?"

"Arnav Rai Mehrotra. You’ve heard of him?"

"I’ve heard the name. Never met him."

"He owns Obsidian Exotics Law Firm. Very successful, very wealthy. But what impressed me most was that he came to our home himself to ask for your hand. He says you’re close friends, told his parents about you, and they’re willing to go ahead."

Close friends? I didn’t even know the man.

"Dadi, he’s a stranger. He's being absurd because—friends? We? Really? This man is brain dead."

"Anika, mind your words. He’s well-mannered. Just give this a chance."

Arranged marriage had never appealed to me. I’d always wanted love—but I’d never had the time, or maybe never met the right person.

"Do as you wish. But I’m not coming to India—I have work."

"Don’t worry. His family is in Paris for a few days. Your mami and I will be coming over soon."

We hung up, and I immediately called the only person who could dig deeper—Rooh Arora, my best friend from college.

"Yes, babes. Finally remembered me?" she said.

"I need you to find someone’s details."

"Of course you do or else why will you remember me." I sighed at her dramatic words.

Rooh Arora, my bestfriend from college. She was a mixture of beauty, boldness and sweetness. She'd always been supportive and a great help to me.

We both lived in Paris in one house but she was at her boyfriend's house for a few days now.

"Will you do it or shall I hire someone else?"

"What’s in it for me?"

"Victoria’s Secret limited edition perfume—first release."

A squeal almost burst my eardrum. "Done. Who’s the guy?"

"Arnav Rai Mehrotra."

Silence. Then, "You’re kidding."

"Why would I be?"

"You’re unbelievable. He’s famous worldwide and you don’t know him?"

"Just send me everything you find."

"Fine," she said.

And that was the start of this mess.