Entangled Fates Episode 7: The Seeds of Deceit
"History doesn't repeat itself. But people do." — Meera Suryavanshi's personal archives, Vol. II
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The empire was collapsing, but the city didn't blink.
The headlines were merciless. They spun their narratives with precision: "Temporary Setback for Suryavanshi Group," "Ryansh Suryavanshi Missing from Key Meeting," "Internal Audit May Shake Boardroom Confidence." Screens flashed red. Shares trembled. The world watched, but no one moved to help.
And yet, Ryansh Suryavanshi was not missing. He was exactly where failure always hides—alone, behind closed doors.
His office was dark. The blinds drawn. The silence crushing. No advisors. No assistants. No calls. Only him and the stale, choking weight of disappointment. His fingers hovered over the screen of his phone, hesitating every time he considered calling her.
Riya.
But he didn't. Not because he didn't want to. But because he knew she wouldn't answer.
He had watched her unravel, and he had let it happen.
The door creaked open, slicing through the silence like a blade.
No knock. No warning.
She walked in like thunder wrapped in silk.
Meera Suryavanshi.
Her saree was a stormy grey, immaculately pleated, and her eyes sharper than any dagger Ryansh had ever faced in business or battle. Her aura carried the chill of old money and older secrets. She said nothing at first. Just stood in the doorway, watching her nephew like a queen disappointed in her general.
"You look like hell," she finally said, voice devoid of concern.
Ryansh didn't bother to deny it.
"I thought you were in Dubai," he replied hoarsely.
"I was," she said, striding in. Her heels clicked against the marble floor with a rhythm of purpose. "But I don't like watching empires fall from afar. Especially not mine."
She dropped a thick folder on the glass desk in front of him. It landed with a thud loud enough to echo.
"What's this?" he asked.
"Your second chance," she said. "If you're smart enough to use it."
Inside the folder were documents. Confidential files. Legal backdoors. Strategic partnerships she had lined up in his absence. Damage control models. A press plan. A survival blueprint.
Ryansh looked up at her, conflicted. "Why are you doing this?"
Meera leaned forward. "Because no matter how many times you burn down your kingdom chasing shadows, this name still belongs to me. And I don't intend to watch it rot in your hands."
She turned, but paused at the door.
"And Ryansh?"
He looked up.
"You need to start thinking with your head again. That girl is not your home. She's a detour."
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Later that night, Meera sat in her private apartment—a space unknown to the press, the company, and even most of her family. It was sterile, high above the chaos of Mumbai, with floor-to-ceiling windows and the smell of precision in every corner.
She sipped wine. Then picked up her phone.
She didn't dial right away. She stared at the contact name for a long time.
Sana Razvi.
When she finally hit call, the response was immediate.
"Meera," came the voice—smooth as silk, cold as ice.
"It's time," Meera said without preamble.
"You need my help?" Sana asked, amused.
"Ryansh is vulnerable. The girl's out of the inner circle. You know what to do."
There was a soft laugh on the other end. "You always said I was a storm."
"And I need a hurricane."
Silence. A dangerous kind.
Then Sana said, "Give me 24 hours."
Meera's eyes narrowed. "I want her discredited. Destroyed. No soft touch. No elegance. She walks into hell, or we make her look like she built it."
"You never did believe in clean wins," Sana replied.
"Clean wins are for clean hearts. And neither of us have those."
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The next day, the Suryavanshi Group's headquarters buzzed like a disturbed hive. The PR team had been working overtime. Legal teams buried in clauses. The board in quiet panic.
But when Sana Razvi entered the building, all of that noise dimmed.
She was poetry in black. Tall. Regal. With a face sculpted for camera angles and a mind carved for chaos. Employees turned. Secretaries whispered. Ryansh's ex-lover had returned.
And she had returned with a purpose.
She didn't go to Ryansh directly. She let him hear about her from others first. Let the tension rise. Let the ghosts walk before she knocked.
When they did meet, it was in the executive conference room.
Ryansh stared at her like she was both past and prophecy.
"Sana," he said, the name heavy on his tongue.
She smiled, slow and cruel. "Miss me?"
Behind her, Meera entered. Calm. Controlled.
"Let's begin," she said.
The three sat around the table—a reunion of legacy, love, and vengeance. Meera spread out documents. Sana uncapped a pen. Ryansh said nothing. But his silence meant surrender.
Meera laid it out plain. "We don't just want her gone. We want her undone. Her career. Her credibility. Her confidence. All of it."
Sana arched an eyebrow. "You want me to handle it from the inside?"
Meera nodded. "You know the press. The influencers. The whisper chains. We'll feed the story. All you have to do is look concerned and keep smiling."
Ryansh finally spoke. "And if she fights back?"
Meera looked him in the eye. "Then we remind her that fairy tales don't belong to girls like her. And that this world was never meant to be fair."
Outside, the city moved on.
Inside, war was declared.
And Riya Agrawal had no idea that three people she once thought she could trust—one with her career, one with her name, one with her heart—had just lit the first match.
To burn her down.
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To be continued...
💬 Author's Note – Into the Web of Power
This chapter was about strategy dressed as care. Meera's arrival wasn't just a family matter—it was a tactical move. Her dislike for Riya isn't rooted in jealousy; it's born from control. And Sana? She's not just a woman scorned—she's an emotional weapon dressed in past love.
Riya doesn't even know the war has begun yet. That's the most dangerous kind of warfare—the one where the victim hasn't even realized they're the target.
So, here we are. Enemies sharing tea. Allies sharpening knives. And Riya? Still searching for the edges of a mask that no longer exists.
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💬 Author's Note – What Comes Next
The next chapter will not offer comfort. It will offer transformation.
Riya will be tested—not in boardrooms, but in breakdowns. Her emotional storm is coming, and it won't be poetic. It will be raw, brutal, and honest. The betrayal she will face isn't just from Ryansh or Sana—but from the version of herself that still believed love could conquer capitalism.
But all is not lost. Sometimes, you have to be completely broken to uncover the gold hidden in your bloodline.
And once Riya rises, she won't be looking for closure. She'll be looking for conquest.
🔥 As always, Your unapologetically messy author, Aarya Patil