Midnight – Ira's phone rang again. This time, it was past midnight. She answered it in the dark, the moonlight cutting across her bed.
Mr. Kapoor (calm but intense): "If you truly want revenge, Ira… then don't let the Bansal-Madhvan wedding happen."
Ira: "And how do you expect me to do that? Sabotage a wedding backed by two of the most powerful families in the country?"
Mr. Kapoor: "You either find a way to destroy the marriage… or you walk into that family as a bride yourself."
A beat of silence.
Ira (voice cracking slightly): "You want me to marry Rajat Madhvan ?What's the difference between me and them (Bansal's) then?"
Mr. Kapoor (coldly): "The difference, Ira, is that they destroyed your mother's name after her death. But, You're still breathing. You still have the truth. Use it."
Ira: "You're asking me to trap a man in a lie."
Mr. Kapoor: "And also find out. Find the fire, Ira. The fire that took your mother's life and reduced her legacy to scandal. Dig it out, ember by ember. Marry him if that's the only way in. But don't let them erase what she was."
Ira (after a long pause, whispering): "They tried to tarnish her name. They tried to burn everything she stood for… and we let them. But not anymore."
Mr. Kapoor: "You want power, Ira? Use your pain. Use your truth."
The call ended. Ira sat on the edge of her bed, breath trembling, her reflection in the mirror slowly hardening.
Location: Blue Orchid Café, City D
It was a quiet weekday afternoon, yet the air inside Blue Orchid Café crackled with invisible tension. Ira Neel, poised in a dark sapphire saree, sat by the window, her eyes hidden behind designer sunglasses. She wasn't here to sip coffee. She was here to detonate a future.
Across from her, Rajat Madhvan strolled in—casually powerful in a charcoal shirt and tailored slacks, sunglasses tucked into his collar, the weight of generational privilege heavy on his shoulders. He didn't notice her smirk. He didn't notice the storm behind her calm.
"Ira?" he asked, taking the seat opposite her. "Why the urgency?"
She slid a pen drive across the table without a word.
"What's this?"
Her lips curled. "Watch it at home."
"You came all the way just to hand me this?" he asked, skeptical.
Ira stood. "Sometimes truth doesn't need an audience."
And she walked out, leaving him with a question heavier than the device in his hand.
Location: Rajat's Private Apartment, Central City D
Later that night, Rajat sat in his dimly lit study, the room awash in amber hues from a solitary lamp. The pen drive clicked into his laptop. The screen flickered—then played a shaky video.
The footage was raw. Violent. Real.
His father—Mahesh Madhvan—stood in a private warehouse. The audio was grainy, but the image was unmistakable. A scuffle. A blow. A man fell, limp. No sound, just the finality of death. Mahesh's face loomed over the body, stern, unrepentant.
Rajat's heart thudded in his chest. His breath caught.
He dialed Ira.
"What the hell is this?" he demanded.
"The truth," Ira's voice was icy calm. "Do you really think your father is a saint? Ever wonder why he's so invested in the Bansals?"
"You're blackmailing me?"
"I'm offering you a choice. If you want to protect your father, follow three conditions."
Her tone sharpened.
"One: cancel your engagement to Sanvi Bansal.
Two: never speak of this video to anyone. Three… I'll tell you later."
"You think this is a joke?!" Rajat shouted. "This isn't abroad! This is Country I—marriage isn't between two people. It's between families. My engagement is public. My face is on billboards!"
"Spare me the drama," Ira snapped. "You've got 24 hours. I hope you care more about your father than your pride."
She cut the call.
Rajat stared at the phone in disbelief, then hurled it onto the bed. He ripped the pen drive from the laptop and crushed it underfoot.
His head fell into his hands.
What the hell was he supposed to do?
Location: Madhvan Estate, Next Morning
Rajat barged into the Madhvan mansion, his eyes bloodshot from a sleepless night. Servants stepped back at the sight of him, his energy volatile.
Without knocking, he entered his father's study.
Mahesh Madhvan looked up from the newspaper. "What is it, Rajat?"
"I want this engagement cancelled."
Silence fell like a guillotine.
Mahesh folded the paper slowly, setting it aside. "What did you just say?"
"I don't want to marry Sanvi."
A pause. Then a loud, resounding slap.
Mahesh stood, seething. "How dare you treat this like a playground romance? This wedding has political and economic consequences—your duty is to this family!"
Rajat's voice broke. "Why her? Why are you so desperate for me to marry into the Bansals?"
Mahesh's jaw clenched, but he said nothing.
Just then, Mrs. Madhvan entered, alarmed by the shouting. "What happened?"
Her husband didn't even look at her. "Your son wants to cancel his wedding."
Mrs. Madhvan's eyes widened. "What?! Rajat, why?"
Rajat looked away.
Mahesh turned to his wife, voice like steel. "This marriage is not being cancelled. In fact—call the planners. I want it done as soon as possible." (Direct wedding)
Rajat stood frozen. He knew that tone. There was no arguing with it.
But now he knew the truth. Or at least, part of it.
And somewhere, Ira was counting down the hours.
Location: Rajat's Penthouse, City D
Time: 26 hours after the confrontation with Mahesh Madhvan
The penthouse overlooked the city skyline, but Rajat's eyes were fixed inward. The confrontation with his father had left a mark deeper than bruises—it had cracked something old, something sacred.
He had walked out of the Madhvan estate without a word.
Now, he stood before a floor-to-ceiling window, the early dawn filtering through sheer drapes. His mind played the moment on loop: Mahesh Madhvan's voice—trembling with rage, hand raised in judgment.
His phone buzzed. He didn't want to answer. But it buzzed again.
Caller ID: Ira
Rajat sighed and answered.
Sanvi (light, sarcastic): "Mr. Madhvan? So? What's the scenario? Are you successful in your task? Or was the mighty Rajat too delicate for war?"
There was a pause.
Rajat (quiet, hollow): "Ira… not now."
He hung up. No explanation. No justification.
He walked to the bar counter. Poured a drink. Stopped halfway and threw the glass into the sink. Shards scattered. The silence thickened.
The Next Morning – News Channel HQ, City D
Screens lit up across breakfast tables, airports, and executive lounges.
Country24 Breaking News Voiceover: "In a dramatic twist, the most anticipated wedding of the year—the union between Sanvi Bansal and Rajat Madhvan—will now be held this winter, months ahead of the previous schedule."
"Sources inside Bansal HQ reveal the move is a sign of unity between two empires: the industrial Bansals and the legacy-rich Madhvans."
Clips played: Sanvi's engagement lehenga in slow motion.
Mr. Bansal and Mahesh Madhvan exchanging champagne toasts.
A digital invite flashing: 'A Legacy Forged in Love and Ambition'.
Rajat watched from the sofa, alone.
Rajat (mutters to himself): "You've escalated the war, Father... but I never surrendered."
His fingers hovered over his phone. One message sat unopened from Ira. He deleted it without reading.
Location: Tuscany, Italy – Kapoor Estate
In a sprawling villa nestled between cypress trees, Uncle Kapoor sipped wine as the midday sun streamed across the marble veranda.
A female aide handed him an iPad. The news headline blinked onscreen.
Bansal-Madhvan Wedding Moved to Winter: The Country's Crown Union Draws Closer.
He chuckled.
Uncle Kapoor (in Hindi): "So, the old Madhvan wolf wants to seal the deal faster. That means Ira's pen drive doesn't worked."
Mrs kapoor: "She hasn't updated you on her final step."
Uncle Kapoor (amused): "She never does. That's why I trust her. Ira plays to win… just like her mother did."
He tapped a private number on the screen and waited.
Kapoor (into phone, cold): "Child… Remember, no emotion now." "But you failed to stop this wedding ."
He looked back at the vineyard, eyes narrowing.
Kapoor (softly): "Mahesh thinks the wedding gives him control. But Ira's not done. The real ceremony will be staged… at war."
Location: Upadhyay Group Headquarters, City D
Time: Two days after the media announced the early wedding of Sanvi Bansal and Rajat Madhvan.
The executive floor of the Upadhyay Group buzzed with quiet efficiency, but behind the glass walls of the topmost meeting room, a storm of thought was brewing.
Veer Upadhyay stood by the tall window, arms crossed, watching the muted skyline of City D through rain-speckled glass. His younger sister, Rishika, sat at the large circular table, her laptop closed for once, gaze pinned to the front page of Country I Standard.
Headline: "Surprise Union: Bansal-Madhvan Marriage Advanced – A Corporate Powerhouse Tie-Up Set for This Winter."
Veer tossed the newspaper aside with a snort. "Tu as vu les nouvelles ?" he asked in a clipped tone. (Did you see the news?)
Rishika nodded slowly. "Yes, and the ripples are already spreading across investor circles. I've had two board members ask if we knew in advance."
"Et tu crois ça ?" Veer turned sharply. (And you believe this?) "Suddenly Rajat wants to tie the knot early, with Sanvi Bansal of all people? C'est absurde." "Exactly,"
Rishika murmured, her tone calm but cold. "Something big is going to happen. This preponed marriage… it's not just a social arrangement. There's something hidden."
Veer looked at her, reading her mind the way only an older brother could. "You think Ira is behind this."
Rishika paused.
"I think she tried to stop it," she said. "And failed."
Location: Bansal Mansion, City D, Time: 10:43 PM,
The city lights glittered like secrets across the skyline of City D, but inside the palatial Bansal Mansion, one woman stood still—calm, regal, and waiting.
Ira Neel.
Silk robe. Hair twisted in a midnight bun. A glass of untouched red wine in her hand. She stood by the French balcony, the screen of her phone softly glowing in her palm.
She typed the message without hesitation.
IRA (Text): You failed.
Now I have to take the situation into my own hands.
She sent it.
Seconds later, her screen lit up again.
Rajat.
RAJAT (Text): What do you mean?
A smirk touched the edge of her lips. Rajat was never slow to react—except when fear slowed him down.
She typed back.
IRA (Text): You'll know very soon. Just wait and watch.
And then, the inevitable. Her phone rang.
RAJAT (calling): "Ira. Don't do something stupid."
Her laugh was soft, almost seductive. But beneath it was steel.
She put the call on speaker, letting his voice echo in the silence of her room.
IRA (calmly): "Oh honey… scared already?"
She walked slowly across the marble floor, her voice dripping with casual menace.
IRA: "The movie's just begun, sweetheart.
If you're this shaken already...
what will you do when the real storm hits?"
Rajat fell silent.
IRA (sharply): "Now it's time to complete my third condition."
A long pause. He didn't reply.
IRA (whispers, lethal): "Get ready, Rajat.
Because this time… the rules are mine."
CLICK.
She ended the call.
Rajat Madhvan's Penthouse | Same Time
Rajat stared at his phone screen like it might explode.
His forehead glistened with sweat despite the air conditioning. He stood by the window, shirt unbuttoned at the top, his mind running a hundred miles a minute.
Rajat (to himself): "What is she planning?"