Chapter 13

The evening grew heavier with music and laughter, but in the quieter corners of the Raj Mansion, deals were being whispered, alliances sealed with smiles. Veeresh moved among the crowd with his usual sharp observation, his presence noticed but his mind half elsewhere—still caught by the image of Poornima in her black gown.

A murmur caught his attention. He turned, sharp ears catching fragments of conversation near the inner lounge where the Rai family had gathered.

“Poornima,” her father’s voice was stern, carrying the weight of command. “This is not about you. This is about the family. The Rai Industries will stand stronger if you marry into the Raj family. Your future is secure. Your place in society—unshakable.”

Poornima stood rigid, her chin slightly lifted, her eyes glistening though she fought to keep her voice steady.

“Father, my life is not for a deal. I will not marry for business.”

Her mother’s voice cut in, softer but no less piercing. “Don’t be foolish. The Rajs are giving their elder son. Do you realize what this means for us?”

Poornima’s fingers tightened around her glass of lemon juice, her knuckles pale. “I don’t care what it means for industries or names. I will not marry him.”

Her father’s eyes blazed with anger. “You dare disrespect us like this? Who will marry you then? Do you think you can choose? Your respect, your future—it is we who decide!”

Poornima’s voice cracked but did not break. She met his gaze with quiet fire.

“My respect is not for you to define. I would rather be alone than be married for a deal.”

Her words fell like a sharp blade in the air. The silence that followed was heavy, suffocating.

Her father’s hand slammed against the armrest of his chair. But before he could speak again, Poornima turned, her tears threatening to spill. She walked away quickly, her dupatta brushing against the polished floor. Outside the lounge, away from her parents’ accusing eyes, the first tear escaped. She wiped it furiously, straightening her back, refusing to let anyone see her broken.

From the far corner, half-hidden in the shadows, Veeresh Raj had witnessed it all. His usually unreadable face softened, his eyes narrowing not with judgment but with something else—respect, intrigue, and an unexpected pull.

Here was a woman who stood alone against power, who chose dignity over wealth, who walked away from a world most would die to enter.

As she disappeared down the hallway, her head held high despite the storm in her eyes, Veeresh felt something stir in him. A rare, dangerous thought—this woman does not bend. She is not for deals. She is… different.

And for the first time in years, Veeresh Raj found himself wondering—not about strategy, not about missions, not about numbers—but about the girl in the black gown who chose loneliness over compromise.

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