Ishana's POV
Delhi smelled of dust, perfume, and ambition.
The September sun pressed against the glass of the conference hall, but it wasn't the heat that made my chest tight. It was the weight of every pair of eyes tracking me like a predator sizing up prey.
I straightened the pearl pin on my shoulder, trying to breathe through the surge of panic. The Verma legacy was fading, slipping through my fingers. And today, I was supposed to make it appear eternal.
"Smile, beti! Wider!"
I almost stumbled. Of course. Bhaisaheb.
He appeared beside me in a saffron kurta embroidered with so much gold it was almost blinding. His moustache twitched with pride, and his eyes sparkled like a man who had just discovered the stage was set entirely for him.
"Dekho, duniya! The Verma blood flows still! Even if lands are sold, izzat remains!"
I pinched my nose. "Uncle, please. Sit down."
"Quiet men are forgotten men!" he shouted, ignoring me. "And Verma men are never forgotten!"
The doors opened. The air shifted.
Aarav Singhania entered.
Black suit, black tie, eyes the color of steel. He moved like he belonged everywhere, yet nowhere belonged to anyone. He didn't acknowledge me. Didn't need to. He simply existed, and the room bent around him.
I swallowed. So this was the man I was forced to tether my family's fate to.
The chief journalist stepped forward, mic in hand. "Ladies and gentlemen, the historic alliance between Verma Estates and Singhania Infrastructure…"
Applause. Flashbulbs. Headlines being written in real time.
I forced my lips into a smile. Inside, my heart thumped like a drum of warning. Every clap reminded me of my family's debts. Every camera was a spotlight on failure.
Then Aarav spoke, voice calm, precise. "Strategic. Practical. Efficient. Let's not romanticize it."
Romanticize? My ancestors' land, their sacrifices… just numbers on his balance sheet?
I leaned into the mic, my voice steady but sharp. "This land carries history, sacrifice, and the voices of my ancestors. Even wrapped in your gold, I will ensure their shadow remains."
The room froze.
Bhaisaheb clapped like a man possessed. "Wah! Kya dialogue maara! Our Ishana is fire and shadow both!"
I wanted to disappear.
Aarav's smirk was faint, controlled. A warning in steel.
"You play with shadows, Ms. Verma. I deal in light. Let's see which lasts longer."
Something deep within me stirred. A restless pulse, buried for years. I pressed my fingers into my palms. Not now. Not here. He must never see the Shadow.
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Aarav's POV
She was smaller than I expected.
The papers called her proud, clinging to a crumbling dynasty. I saw tension, a woman clutching her dignity like driftwood in a storm. Pretty, yes. But dangerous. Controlled. Fierce.
Not that it mattered. Deals were deals. I needed land. She needed money. Nothing more.
Her words surprised me. "This land carries history… and I will ensure their shadow remains, even if wrapped in your gold."
Shadows. Fire. Superstition. Conviction. Dangerous conviction.
Her uncle's overenthusiastic clapping did little to obscure the fact: she wasn't fragile. And when I leaned in, lowering my voice, it wasn't a threat. It was observation.
"You play with shadows. I deal in light. Let's see which lasts longer."
For the briefest moment, the floor beneath the table seemed to tremble. I blinked. Dismissed it. But the truth lingered: she was hiding something. Something alive. And I intended to uncover it.
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Ishana's POV
The press conference ended, reporters shoving mics, cameras flashing. Aarav left first, measured and deliberate, a predator walking past prey without breaking stride.
Bhaisaheb bounced beside me. "See? The Verma name still holds weight!"
I smiled, but my hands trembled. No one could know what stirred beneath my skin. The earth magic that once made our dynasty formidable.
Years it had slept. And now, for the first time in public, it had woken.
I pressed my palms to my thighs. Not now. Not here. The Shadow cannot falter.
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Aarav's POV
Back in the car, my assistant rattled off stock prices, clauses, projections. I didn't hear a word.
I kept thinking of her. Ishana Verma. Fire and shadow.
The tremor beneath her words, her stance, her hesitation. The thing she tried so hard to hide.
Every secret has a cost. And I always pay in gold.
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✨ End of Chapter 1
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