Morning – Madhvan Estate, Central City D
The Madhvan Estate, with its red sandstone arches and carved teakwood doors, had seen empires rise and fall—some industrial, some emotional. But within its oldest drawing room—where no marble had been replaced and no chandeliers updated—three generations of legacy now conversed.
Gayatri Devi, regal in a muted emerald shawl, sat on a low divan near the window, sunlight bathing her silver-streaked hair. A bronze bust of her late husband stood quietly in the corner.
Mahesh Madhvan, dressed in ivory khadi, stood near the tea table, hands behind his back, posture stiff but polite.
Harshvardhan, his elder brother, sat to the side, flipping through the economic section of a broadsheet until the conversation turned weighty.
Gayatri Devi spoke first, not looking up from her tulsi tea.
"Speak clearly, Mahesh. Your back straightens when you have something distasteful to say."
Mahesh gave a brief smile. "Not distasteful. Strategic."
He paused.
"It is time we secured Rajat's path—with someone who can anchor him in this new wave of expansion. Someone who offers us muscle in retail and access to the North-East corridor."
Harshvardhan raised an eyebrow, finally folding his paper. "This isn't a procurement deal. It's marriage."
"Strategic marriage," Mahesh corrected. "And the Bansals have offered Saanvi."
Gayatri Devi exhaled through her nose.
"Anupam Bansal… I remember when his hands used to tremble while presenting proposals. Now he offers daughters?"
Mahesh nodded slightly. "Now he offers equity. Quiet board seats."
Gayatri Devi set her cup down slowly, her voice cool. "You want me to bless a union of ambition—not affection."
"Affection is unreliable," Mahesh said gently. "What's reliable is mutual gain. The Bansals need legacy, we need reach."
Silence stretched.
Then Gayatri Devi asked, "And what do you think of the girl?"
Mahesh hesitated. "Poised. Educated. Strategic. But—"
Harshvardhan cut in. "Not someone who'll fade into the background."
"No," Mahesh said. "Which is why I'm speaking to you both. If we go ahead, she'll have to be absorbed carefully into our ecosystem. She's sharp enough to cut, if mismanaged."
Gayatri Devi nodded slowly. "And Rajat—what is he sharp enough for?"
The question hovered like incense. Heavy. Sinking.
No one answered.
A Little Later – Outside the Drawing Room
As Mahesh left, Harshvardhan joined him in the corridor.
"You're playing with old fires, Mahesh. Be careful with Saanvi Bansal. That girl was raised to win. If she gets her claws in, you'll have to choose—her ambition or Rajat's independence."
Mahesh didn't slow his stride.
"Independence is a luxury. We're building empires, Harsh. Not diaries."
Harshvardhan stopped walking. "And yet… have you considered who else is entering the picture?"
Mahesh turned, surprised.
Harshvardhan said quietly, "There's talk from Florence. A designer. Making waves in ethical fashion. Country I-born. Changed her name. But legally… still a Bansal."
Mahesh froze.
"Ira N.K?"
Harshvardhan nodded. "The girl they erased."
Mahesh's voice dropped to a whisper. "But she's… irrelevant. Abroad. Detached."
"Detached?" Harshvardhan murmured.
"She's building a design empire. Returning to Country I. And very possibly—intersecting with Rajat."
Mahesh stared at him. "By accident?"
Harshvardhan's smile was cold. "Or by fate.
Evening – The Madhvan Residence, Library
The Madhvan library smelled of aged wood and bergamot tea. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves enclosed the room like silent judges. Mahesh Madhvan stood near the wide window, watching the garden where dusk fell slowly, softening the hedges into shadow.
The decanter beside him remained untouched. His fingers hovered near the glass, then retreated.
Vasundhara entered quietly, her steps soundless on the Persian rug. Draped in a deep sapphire sari, her diamond-stud earrings catching what little light remained, she looked every bit the empress she was reputed to be.
"I spoke to Ma," Mahesh said, not turning.
"I assumed as much," Vasundhara replied, walking to the side table. She poured herself a measured drink—Darjeeling single estate, no sugar.
"She didn't oppose it," he added, "but she didn't bless it either."
"She will," and after this he told her the entire conversation. Vasundhara said smoothly.
"Eventually."
Mahesh turned now, the creases on his brow deeper than usual.
"You don't find it premature? Pushing Rajat toward this… alliance?"
Vasundhara took a sip, unbothered. "He's twenty-nine. Calm, intelligent, loyal to the family, yet unanchored. If we wait longer, someone else will claim that space in his life—and perhaps not someone we control."
Mahesh sat, his fingers laced tightly.
"There's something… off. I met Saanvi. Brilliant. But—calculated. She walks into a room like it owes her a crown."
Vasundhara's eyes narrowed slightly, but her voice remained silky.
"And what should she walk in like? A handmaiden? She is what this generation needs. Unapologetic. She's sharp, political, already pivoting Meera's North-East retail arms into digital clusters. And she's loyal to her father's interests, which, in this case, serve ours."
Mahesh hesitated. "Ira Neel is also Bansal's daughter."
Vasundhara blinked—just once. Then sipped her tea again.
"She is not part of this conversation."
"She is. Whether we like it or not."
"Mahesh," Vasundhara said, setting her cup down slowly. "That girl was exiled before she could walk into a boardroom. She doesn't carry the Bansal name. She doesn't sit at their table. And she isn't ours."
"She's successful," Mahesh murmured. "Critics call her the future of sustainable design. She's the creative director for Maison Lucente's Country I launch. The international press follows her like shadow."
"And where has that success taken her?" Vasundhara countered sharply. "To palazzos in Florence? Avant-garde auctions? Good for her. But Rajat does not need a ghost. He needs a partner who understands balance sheets, press management, and boardroom warfare."
Mahesh looked at her. "You never met Ira, did you?"
"No," Vasundhara said coolly. "And I don't need to. She is a variable. A wildcard. We don't build legacy on sentiment. We build it on structure."
Silence.
Then Vasundhara added, quietly but firmly, "Saanvi is perfect for him. And for us."
Mahesh stood, walking back to the window. His voice was low, as if speaking to the dusk rather than to her.
"But what if Rajat doesn't choose her? What if… the one woman who understands his silence isn't the one we placed in his path?"
Vasundhara's tone chilled a degree further.
"Then we remind him who chose him. And what it cost to place him where he is."
Her eyes never wavered.
And for the first time that evening, Mahesh didn't reply.