Velvet Masks – The City M Gala
City M shimmered under soft monsoon lights, its elite clustered within the gilded halls of the Ashwood Royal Pavilion—home to the Mehra Foundation Gala, a ceremonial affair wrapped in silks and secrets.
Every year, the gala played host to museum-level couture, whispered alliances, and the occasional scandal disguised in polite conversation. This year, however, the buzz had a name: SANVI Bansal.
She entered the grand ballroom not on her father's arm, but escorted by Vasundhara Madhvan, her maroon silk-draped figure drawing curious glances. Rumors flickered—too young to be a friend, too confident to be a protégé. Eyes tracked her as the heir to the North-East corridor inched closer to the Madhvan inner circle.
On the opposite side of the ballroom, Rajat Madhvan entered.
He was dressed in a finely tailored charcoal suit —classic, understated—but his expression was anything but celebratory. His strides were composed, his gaze clinical. He didn't want to be here.
"Smile," Vasundhara murmured as they approached the central rotunda. "This is legacy work, not theatre."
"I'm here, Ma. That should be enough," Rajat replied coolly.
Vasundhara gave him a sideways look but said nothing.
The moment Saanvi turned, they were face to face.
"Rajat," Vasundhara gestured, "you remember Saanvi Bansal?"
"We've never formally met," Saanvi replied, extending a polite hand.
Rajat shook it briefly. "Good evening."
"Thank you for coming," Vasundhara said pointedly to Saanvi, ignoring her son's clipped tone. "Ananya insisted you wear her archive design tonight. She says no one's carried it better."
Saanvi smiled. "She's too kind. I just tried not to spill coffee on it during rehearsals."
Rajat looked between them. "Rehearsals?"
"She's speaking at the gala," Vasundhara said smoothly. "Panel on women in regional commerce. Co-hosting with Mehra's daughter and the Italian envoy's team."
"I see." Rajat's tone was flat.
A Little Later – Terrace Overlooking the Ballroom
Rajat stepped out, needing air. The city lights shimmered below, blurred through distant drizzle.
Saanvi followed after a few minutes—uninvited, but not unwelcome.
"They're orchestrating this," Rajat said without turning.
"I know," she replied, stepping beside him. "I'm not here to trap you into anything."
He finally turned. "Then why entertain this ridiculous merger-in-the-guise-of-marriage?"
"Because I know what's at stake for my father," Saanvi said. "And I know what your parents want."
"And what do you want?"
"I want leverage. And freedom. Ironically, this alliance gives me both."
Rajat looked at her, curious despite himself.
"You could say no," she added softly. "But they'll just find someone else.
He studied her again. Not as a pawn, but as a contender.
"You play this game well."
"I was born in it, just like you."
Inside – Private Lounge
Back inside, Mahesh and Vasundhara met with Bansal Sr. behind closed doors.
"She's impressive," Vasundhara said, pouring a drink.
"She's efficient," Mr. Bansal replied. "She can pivot between boardroom and ballroom."
Mahesh added, "We're not rushing him. But if he accepts—our expansion gains ground across North-East and FMCG. Your family enters legacy circles. Mutual."
Mr. Bansal nodded. "She'll handle Rajat. Just give them time."
As the gala drew to a close, the buzz had shifted. Saanvi Bansal was now seen not merely as Bansal's daughter—but a rising force among City's D elite. Her name murmured in corners. Her smile studied. Her proximity to the Madhvans, noted.
But Rajat, slipping out early, left behind only silence.
The Bansal Legacy, Within the mirrored boardroom of the Bansal Group, Mr. Anupam Bansal leaned back in his chair as the latest retail analytics flashed across the screen. Behind the figures lay something far more urgent than quarterly profits: a place at the legacy table.
For years, Bansal had clawed his way up—first in FMCG, then retail, now angling toward luxury and private banking. But to seal his future, he needed more than capital. He needed legacy bloodlines. Hence, the alliance with the Madhvans.
His daughters from his second wife, Meera and Saanvi, were raised to understand this mission. Both poised, intelligent, and fiercely loyal. Saanvi was his diamond—Wharton-educated, astute, and prepared to marry strategically.
But the world had forgotten about his another daughter .
And Anupam intended to keep it that way.
The Past: Decades ago, when Anupam was on the brink of bankruptcy—over-leveraged, outmaneuvered, and abandoned by investors—he made a brutal choice. He divorced his then-wife, Neelima, a quiet, intelligent woman from a modest academic family, to marry the ambitious and politically connected Ravina Chaudhary, daughter of an MP, in a deal arranged to salvage his crashing empire.
But before the divorce, Neelima had given him a daughter—Ira.
Ira was barely three when tragedy struck. Neelima, isolated from the business world, died in what was ruled a "domestic accident"—a quiet fire in her apartment. Whispers followed. The case was closed.
Anupam moved on.
After divorce within a year, he married Ravina. The tabloids praised his comeback. His network returned. Meera and Saanvi were born within the next four years.
Ira was sent abroad.
Raised by her maternal uncle, she cut ties with the Bansal surname. She took her mother's name instead: Ira Neel.
The Present Stakes, Saanvi Bansal is being offered in marriage to Rajat Madhvan.
Mr. Bansal pitches it to Vasundhara Madhvan like a well-priced merger: "Luxury and banking—that's where influence compounds. Rajat is a future face. We align with him, and we secure legacy in a way no IPO ever could."
Vasundhara smiles faintly. "And we gain retail muscle in the North-East corridor. If Rajat controls that, Riyansh becomes… numerically outvoted."
Bansal nods. "We make Rajat irreplaceable. And once he's embedded, the rest of the board will follow."
But Vasundhara, sharp as always, leans in with a question:
"Your daughters—only Meera and Saanvi?"
A flicker of something—a hesitation—passes across Bansal's eyes.
But Vasuandhara remained silent, knowing Mahesh had told her about Mr. Bansal's past.
However, he lied and said, "Yes."
She deliberately asked the question to imply her knowledge.