The glass-walled office of Khanna Industries felt like a pressure cooker. Outside, the Delhi sun was relentless, but inside, the air conditioning was dialed down to a frigid temperature that matched Esha's temperament.
Esha sat behind the mahogany desk that had once been Ashok's. She was reviewing the forensic audit she had ordered the moment she landed. Across from her, Ashok paced like a caged tiger. He was a man who thrived on being the loudest voice in the room, and his sister's quiet, clinical dismantling of his authority was galling.
The Internal Coup
"You can't just freeze my personal accounts, Esha!" Ashok slammed his hand on the desk. "I am the face of this company. I have spent years building the Khanna brand while you were playing at being a venture capitalist in London."
Esha didn't look up from her tablet. "You haven't been building a brand, Ashok. You've been funding a vendetta. You spent six crores last quarter alone on a smear campaign against Raman Bhalla's new product launch—a campaign that failed. Meanwhile, our logistics partners in the South are threatening to pull out."
She finally looked up, her gaze piercing. "You're not a businessman anymore; you're a bitter ex-boyfriend. From today, you are the 'Chairman Emeritus.' You will attend the ribbon-cuttings and look handsome in the papers. But the money? The money belongs to me."
Ashok's face turned a deep, bruised purple. He knew Esha had the board's backing because she had secretly bought out the minority shareholders weeks ago. "You think you're so smart," he hissed, leaning in. "But this is India. You can't rule from a throne of ice. People here value loyalty and family. If you cross me, I'll make sure the Bhallas aren't your only enemies."
He stormed out, but Esha only smiled. She knew Ashok would try to sabotage her—perhaps leak a scandal or mess with a contract. She counted on it. A cornered animal was predictable, and a predictable enemy was easy to manage.
The Strategy of the "Soft Power"
Esha realized her interaction at the gala had been... intense. Shagun was currently avoiding her calls, likely hiding in a cloud of perfume and denial. Ishita Iyer had looked at her as if she were a predatory species.
I am being too 'London,' Esha mused, tapping a pen against her lips. In India, the way to a woman's heart isn't through a frontal assault; it's through her vulnerabilities.
She picked up the phone. "Get me the file on the 'Pragati Welfare Center.' The one Dr. Ishita Iyer consults for."
The Trap is Set
Two days later, the Pragati Welfare Center—a small clinic for underprivileged children that Ishita treated as her own child—was served with an eviction notice. A "clerical error" regarding the land deed had surfaced, and a large conglomerate was looking to tear it down for a shopping mall.
Predictably, Ishita was devastated. She had spent the morning crying in the clinic's small courtyard, surrounded by worried parents. When a sleek black Bentley pulled up to the dusty curb, the contrast was jarring.
Esha stepped out, looking every bit the savior. She wasn't wearing a daring gown today. She wore a sophisticated, high-necked cream Lucknowi suit—modest, elegant, and calculated to put Ishita at ease.
"Dr. Iyer," Esha said, her voice soft and full of feigned concern. "I heard about the trouble. It's a tragedy. This clinic does such vital work."
Ishita wiped her eyes, looking defensive. "Ms. Khanna? What are you doing here? If you're here to buy the land for your brother—"
"I'm here because I've already bought the land, Ishita," Esha interrupted gently. She stepped closer, but this time she maintained a respectful, "Indian" distance. "And I have no intention of building a mall. I've transferred the deed into a private trust. The clinic is safe."
Ishita gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. "You... you saved it? But why? We barely know each other, and our last meeting was... uncomfortable."
"I was jet-lagged and perhaps a bit too blunt at the party," Esha lied smoothly, her eyes radiating warmth. "I'm a businesswoman, yes, but I'm also a woman who respects those who give back. Consider this a gift from one independent woman to another."
The relief that flooded Ishita was overwhelming. In her traditional worldview, such a gesture required a monumental debt of gratitude. "I don't know how to thank you. This is... it's a miracle."
"Don't thank me yet," Esha said, her voice dropping an octave, becoming intimate yet still professional. "Just come to dinner at my home tonight. No cameras, no Ashok. Just us. I want to learn more about your work. I find your... dedication... very beautiful."
Ishita hesitated. Her conservative upbringing told her that dining alone with a woman who had previously made such "strange" comments was risky. But Esha looked so sincere, so "proper" in her traditional attire.
"I... I suppose I can do that," Ishita agreed.
The Dinner: A Study in Seduction
The dinner at the Khanna mansion was a masterclass in psychological atmosphere. The lights were low, and the scent of expensive incense filled the air. Esha had dismissed the servants for the evening, creating a sense of forced intimacy.
As they sat across from each other, Esha didn't talk about business. She talked about the soul. She talked about the loneliness of being a powerful woman in a man's world.
"People see the success, Ishita, but they don't see the cost," Esha said, swirling a glass of light white wine. She noticed Ishita sticking to water. "They think we don't need anyone. But sometimes, a woman just needs someone who understands her strength."
Ishita felt her guard dropping. She found herself talking about her struggles with Raman, her heartache over her infertility, and her bond with little Ruhi.
"You give so much of yourself to a man who doesn't appreciate it," Esha said, standing up and walking around the table. She stopped behind Ishita.
The air in the room suddenly felt thick. Ishita's heart began to race. This was the moment she should leave, but the "debt of honor" kept her in the chair. Esha's presence behind her was like a heat source.
"A woman like you," Esha whispered, her hands coming down to rest—very lightly, almost imperceptibly—on Ishita's shoulders. "Needs to be cherished. Not by a man who uses her as a band-aid for his ego, but by someone who can see the fire beneath the silk."
Ishita's breath caught. The touch was so light, yet it felt like electricity. "Esha... please. This is... I am a married woman. In our culture—"
"Culture is a cage, Ishita," Esha murmured. She leaned down, her hair brushing against Ishita's cheek. The scent of Esha's perfume—a mix of dark roses and musk—filled Ishita's senses. "And I have the key."
Esha didn't push further. She knew that with a woman like Ishita, the fear was the first hurdle. She let go and stepped back, her smile perfectly innocent.
"You should get home, Ishita. Raman will be wondering where you are. But remember... the clinic is safe because of us. We are partners now."
As Ishita hurried to her car, her face flushed and her mind in a state of total chaos, Esha watched from the window. She had established a debt. She had created a secret.
And in the shadows of the hallway, Ashok stood watching, his eyes narrowing. He had seen the way Esha looked at Ishita. He didn't understand the "why," but he knew he had just found a weapon to use against his sister.