The sharp click of polished Italian shoes echoed through the marble-floored hallway. Every step was measured, every movement precise. The employees of Malhotra Industries practically held their breath as the tall, imposing figure passed them without so much as a glance. Conversations died mid-sentence, and people scrambled to look busy. No one wanted to be on the receiving end of Aarav Malhotra’s anger.

He was a man who ruled his empire with an iron fist ruthless, powerful, and feared. At thirty-two, he was one of India’s youngest billionaires, a self-made success story that people both admired and envied. But admiration and envy meant nothing to Aarav. Results did. And those who failed to deliver? Well, they didn’t last long.

“Sir, the board meeting—” his assistant, Aman, hurried to keep up with his boss’s long strides."Reschedule it,” Aarav said without breaking his pace, his voice cold and clipped.

“But sir—”

“I said reschedule it, Aman. Do I need to repeat myself?” The words were quiet, but the threat behind them was unmistakable.“N-no, sir,” Aman stammered, immediately falling silent.

Aarav entered his office a massive space of glass and steel, overlooking the Mumbai skyline. The room was as intimidating as the man himself: sleek, minimal, and powerful. He shrugged off his suit jacket and loosened his tie, his sharp jaw tightening as his mind raced with the day’s problems.His phone buzzed. Only one person dared call without going through his assistant first.

“Maa,” he answered, his tone softening just a fraction. “I’m busy.”

“You’re always busy, beta,” came his mother’s exasperated voice. “When will you think about your life? About marriage?”

Aarav sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Not this again.”

“Yes, this again! You’re thirty-two! People are starting to talk—”

“Let them talk,” he interrupted. “I don’t care.”

“Well, I care! I’ve found the perfect girl—”

“No.”

“Aarav—”.

“I said no, Maa. I’m not interested in marriage.” His voice was final.

But fate had other plans.

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