After coming back home, Rishika focused entirely on her new venture. She conducted extensive research, meticulously refining and developing her innovative concept.
Over two weeks, she explored every fact, anticipating challenges and developing solutions. This preparation enabled her to create a compelling presentation for the board, communicating her idea's value and potential. Her pitch incorporated market analysis, financial projections, and a clear implementation roadmap. Rishika ensured she was prepared to address the board's questions.
Location: Upadhyay Group Headquarters, Executive Boardroom, City D
The early morning light streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the Upadhyay Group's towering headquarters, casting a golden sheen across the polished marble of the executive boardroom. The skyline of city D framed the scene—a city of ambition, contradiction, and, if Rishika had her way, redemption.
At the head of the boardroom table stood Rishika Upadhyay, sharp-eyed and composed, with a digital pointer in hand and a presentation glowing behind her. Her tailored beige blazer projected quiet authority, sleeves rolled up in readiness, not fashion.
Behind her on the screen, the UDC Mall masterplan illuminated a bold future—a mixed-use redevelopment spanning forty districts, integrating artisan housing, green infrastructure, sustainable retail, and education zones. A ₹1,500 crore commitment to community-first urban growth.
But the faces in the room weren't all welcoming.
Across the boardroom, tension simmered. Seated were twelve board members—seasoned veterans, hard-nosed investors, legal hawks, infrastructure heads. Their expressions ranged from skeptical to outright disapproving.
"You're asking us to bet on emotion," snapped Mr. Rathi, a conservative real estate strategist. "Artisans? Cultural zones? This isn't philanthropy, Ms. Upadhyay. It's real estate. And your numbers are far too optimistic."
"It's not optimism, sir," Rishika replied, calm but unwavering. "It's evidence-based impact modeling. We've mapped economic regeneration zones and layered artisan networks into commercial viability—"
"Still—emotion clouds judgment," murmured another board member, adjusting his gold-rimmed glasses. "We're not here to be saviors. We're here to scale."
At the far end of the table, Veer Upadhyay, the CEO—and Rishika's elder brother—remained impassive. His eyes studied Rishika, but his body language revealed little.
"And who'll handle the legalities, the zoning history?" someone scoffed. "This city's land laws are a minefield."
Rishika didn't blink.
"We've vetted the documents through our internal legal team. The land is clean. All permits greenlit. Environmental clearance underway."
A slight cough interrupted the silence—Kavya Thakur, seated unobtrusively at the back beside a senior lawyer, buried her eyes in the documents, lips pressed tight. She had found something, but no one listened.
The air crackled with unease. The board wasn't just pushing back—it was resisting her very presence. Too young, too idealistic, too ambitious.
Then Veer stood.
"This project," he began slowly, "may not align with traditional profit matrices, but it aligns with something rarer—vision with integrity. I approve the UDC Mall redevelopment."
Gasps. The decision was unilateral—and final.
"Veer," said a senior member, "You're staking your reputation—"
"I know what I'm doing," Veer cut in sharply. "And I believe in her."
Rishika met his gaze. Her brother's silent nod steadied her heart. But somewhere in the corner, Kavya's hand trembled slightly.
Three Days Later
Location: Upadhyay Law Firm, Archive Chamber
The room was dim, filled with dust motes dancing in the filtered sunlight. Towering cabinets creaked with files older than her. Kavya, in her fourth week as an intern, combed through zoning records one last time, guilt gnawing at her. She had warned her seniors. She had documented the problem.
"A restrictive covenant, 1981, clause B subsection IV," she whispered, flipping to her old memo. It still bore the coffee stain from that day.
"They ignored it…"
Veer's Office, Evening
Veer Upadhyay sat in the dim, silent glow of his office, the city's lights flickering behind him like a thousand blinking doubts. The memo lay open on his desk — a crisp, unassuming document, modestly titled:
"Preliminary Legal Concerns: Mixed-Use Zoning Conflict — 1981 Restrictive Covenant."
Kavya Thakur, Legal Intern, Upadhyay Law.
What struck him wasn't just the depth of legal understanding—it was the tone. Analytical, urgent, but not dramatic. The memo outlined a clause buried in a 1981 zoning record that forbade commercial development on a specific segment of the proposed UDC Mall site. Mixed-use development here may violate city ordinance 14/B-IV, still active under pending appeal.
Her words were clear: "This clause, if not addressed, exposes the entire ₹1,500 crore project to possible injunction, revocation of license, or civil litigation by adjacent property trusts."
The legal team hadn't flagged it. The compliance officer had marked it "low relevance."
But the intern? She had seen it.
And no one listened.
Veer picked up his phone.
Upadhyay Legal Wing — Evening
Kavya sat at her cubicle in the nearly empty legal wing, thumbing through environmental compliance forms, trying to convince herself that staying late on a Friday was noble and not tragic.
Her phone buzzed.
Incoming call: CEO - Veer Upadhyay.
She blinked. Was this a prank?
She answered hesitantly.
"Sir…?"
Veer's voice was sharp but composed: "Kavya Thakur? This is Veer Upadhyay. I need you in my office. Now."
"Yes, sir," she stammered, already on her feet, heart pounding.
Veer's Office — 6:48 PM
The corridor felt endless. Her heels echoed in the silence, every step a question. The elevator ride was breathless. She entered the top floor, where the air itself seemed to carry the weight of billion-rupee decisions.
As the automatic glass doors parted, Veer stood waiting, memo in hand.
He didn't sit. He didn't smile.
"Is this your work?" he asked directly, holding out the paper.
Kavya nodded slowly, unsure if this was a commendation or reprimand.
"Yes, sir. I submitted it. But It was dismissed as overreach."
Veer studied her expression. No fear, no arrogance. Just honesty.
He handed the document to Rishika, who stood nearby, having just entered from a late strategy review. Her brow furrowed as she scanned the memo. The further she read, the paler she grew.
Her voice was low. "You're the intern who wrote this?"
Kavya's throat dried up. She nodded again, straightening instinctively.
Rishika slowly lowered the page.
"You found this when no one else did."
"I wasn't sure if it mattered," Kavya admitted softly, "But it felt... off. So I documented it."
A stunned silence followed. Then Veer exhaled and sat down for the first time that night.
"You may have just saved this company from public humiliation, legal collapse, and the complete destruction of a ₹1,500 crore venture," he said.
"Sir, I—I didn't mean to—"
"Don't apologize," Rishika interrupted, her tone calm but fierce. "You saw what trained professionals didn't. You did your job when others didn't."
Veer leaned forward, eyes sharp.
"Kavya, tomorrow morning you will present this memo to the board."
Kavya's blood drained from her face.
"I—I've never… presented. To a board."
"You wrote this. You understand it better than anyone," Rishika said. "And it's time they see you."
"You won't be alone," Veer added. "But you will speak."
Kavya swallowed.
"Yes, sir."
As she stepped out of the room moments later, knees shaking and heart thudding, she didn't feel like an intern anymore.