💖 Ishita's Perspective

Ishita's Perspective

True to his word, the heavy rumble of a luxury SUV engine echoed through the palace courtyard precisely at four-thirty. By five o'clock, the biometric lock on the grand entrance clicked open, and Rudra’s commanding frame stepped into the main living room.

He had shed his designer coat, wearing just the taupe-grey shirt with the sleeves rolled tightly up his powerful forearms, his laptop bag gripped in one hand. His ocean-blue eyes immediately scanned the room, bypassing the grand architecture until they locked onto me.

At that exact moment, I was leaning over the mahogany coffee table, the pallu of my deep wine georgette saree neatly tucked into my waist as I carefully poured hot, steaming cardamom chai into delicate porcelain cups. I was in the middle of serving the evening tea to Ram Papa, Lakhan Chacha, Siya Maa, Chachi Urmila, and Bebe, who were all gathered around the lounge enjoying the quiet evening.

A few feet away, Dhristi was moving around the table, serving plates of hot, crispy vegetable pakoras and homemade sweets to accompany the tea. Akshat was nowhere to be seen—he was locked away in the ground-floor study, caught up in an intense virtual corporate meeting of his own.

Rudra didn't say a word to me initially, but the heavy, burning intensity of his gaze was enough to make my cheeks instantly flush, remembering his shameless warning from this morning. He walked over to where his father and uncle were sitting, his expression shifting back into its sharp, authoritative mask.

"Papa, Chacha ji ," Rudra spoke, his deep baritone cutting through the comfortable chatter of the room. "Some of the core state ministers and foreign infrastructure investors are arriving at the palace in about twenty minutes. We need to finalize the eastern sector contracts before they get here. Come to the study for the meeting in a while."

Ram Papa nodded seriously, setting his teacup down. "Alright, Rudra. Give us five minutes. We'll join you and Akshat there."

As Rudra turned on his heel to head toward the study, I straightened up, the silver *payals* on my ankles jingling softly. Knowing how brutal his day must have been, I called out to him before he could disappear down the corridor.

"Coffee laoon aapke liye? (Should I bring coffee for you?)" I asked, offering him a gentle, supportive smile.

Rudra paused, half-turning back to look at me. The cold, unyielding edge in his eyes softened for a fraction of a second as his gaze lingered on my face, taking in the oversized amber earrings and the delicate diamond *mangalsutra* resting against my skin.

"In the study, please," he murmured, his voice dropping into a slightly lower, private register meant only for my ears, before he turned and walked toward the heavy oak doors of the workspace.

Siya Maa caught the brief exchange and smiled warmly, nudging Chachi Urmila. "Look at him. He won't even take a breath of fresh air before diving straight back into work. Ishi, beta, go make his strong black coffee. Only you know exactly how much sugar he needs to survive those ministers."

"Ji, Maa," I replied with a chuckle, handing the tea kettle over to Dhristi. I smoothed down the pleats of my saree and headed toward the royal kitchen, fully aware that delivering that coffee to his closed-door study was going to put me right back into the lion's den.

In the grand, gleaming royal kitchen, the rich, earthy aroma of dark roasted coffee beans quickly filled the air. I kept the flame low, carefully preparing Rudra’s custom strong black coffee—the exact blend of minimal sugar and maximum intensity that he needed to power through high-stakes state negotiations.

Knowing his strict fitness regime, I bypassed the heavy, fried pakoras Dhristi was serving to the rest of the family. Rudra was notoriously particular about what he put into his body; he absolutely despised oily, greasy foods. The only time a single calorie of junk food ever passed his lips was when I stubbornly forced him to eat a bite from my plate, but given the immense pressure he was under today with the state ministers, I wasn't going to tease him. Instead, I neatly arranged a platter of roasted makhanas (foxnuts), baked almond slices, and a small bowl of fresh, organic berries.

As I was setting the tray, Dhristi walked into the kitchen, carrying the empty tea kettle. She looked at the premium coffee setup and gave me a hesitant, sweet smile.

"Bhabhi... Akshat ke liye bhi bana do na, please? (Bhabhi, could you please make one for Akshat too?)" she asked softly. "He's been locked in that virtual corporate meeting since noon, and his throat must be entirely dry."

I paused, looking over my shoulder at her with an amused, slightly raised eyebrow. "Bolne ki zaroorat hai kya tumhe? (Do you even need to ask me that, Dhristi?)"

Dhristi blushed slightly, adjusting her bangles. "Nahi... woh bas... I thought you were in a hurry to take bhai's coffee to the study."

"It's okay," I smiled warmly, dismissing her hesitation with a wave of my hand. "I’ve already kept a second mug ready for Akshat. I know exactly how loud he has to yell when those international targets aren't met."

As I poured the steaming water into both porcelain mugs, a sudden thought struck me. "By the way, Krish kaha hai? (Where is Krish?)"

"He's upstairs playing with his racing cars," Dhristi replied.

"I've prepared a slice of fresh, healthy bread covered in thick malai (cream) and a sprinkle of sugar for him on the side counter," I instructed, pointing with my chin toward the smaller plate. "Bulao use, give him his snack. Aur make sure vo study ke side na jaye bilkul bhi. (And make absolutely sure he does not wander anywhere near the study right now.)"

Dhristi nodded vigorously, completely understanding the gravity of the situation. "Ji, Bhabhi. I'll make sure he stays in the playroom. If he crashes his toy cars into the door while the foreign investors are inside, Rudra Bhai will look at him with those scary ocean-blue eyes, and poor Krish will hide behind Akshat for a week."

"Exactly," I laughed, lifting the heavy silver tray into my hands. The twin mugs of strong black coffee rested on one side, flanked by Rudra’s healthy baked snacks.

With the pallu of my deep wine georgette saree securely draped over my shoulder and my silver *payals* tinkling softly against the polished marble floor, I took a deep, steadying breath and walked out of the kitchen, heading straight toward the ground-floor study where the King of Rajasthan was waiting.

Just as I reached the edge of the kitchen, my feet came to a sudden halt. I looked down at the silver tray in my hands—holding only two mugs of coffee and a small bowl of healthy snacks—and a realization hit me.

"Ishita, wait..." I murmured to myself, turning around quickly. I looked at Dhristi, who was just setting down the tea kettle. "Should we take something for the guests too? The ministers and foreign investors are going to be there. We can't just walk into a royal meeting with food only for the brothers."

Dhristi blinked, looking slightly caught off guard. "Don't know, Bhabhi... Bhai just said he needed coffee. He didn't mention if the guests would want a full high-tea service or just formal refreshments."

"Wait here," I said, not wanting to make a blunder in front of state officials. I handed the heavy silver tray over to Dhristi, making sure she held it steady. "Keep an eye on Akshat's coffee so it doesn't get cold."

Gathering the pleats of my deep wine saree in one hand so I could move faster, I hurried out into the grand hallway. The soft, rhythmic *chan-chan* of my silver *payals* echoed against the marble walls. Luckily, I caught Ram Papa just as he and Lakhan Chacha were walking out of the main living room, adjusting their formal linen kurtas as they headed toward the study.

"Papa Ji!" I called out softly, stepping into their path with a respectful smile.

Papa stopped, his warm, authoritative face instantly softening into a proud fatherly grin the moment he looked at me. "Haan, beta? Kya hua?"

"Papa Ji, guest ke liye kuch leke jana hai kya ya nahi? (Papa Ji, do we need to bring something for the guests or not?)" I asked, gesturing back toward the kitchen. "Rudra ordered black coffee for himself and Akshat, but the ministers and investors are arriving. Should Dhristi and I arrange the silver tea service and some snacks for the study, or are they having a formal dinner later?"

Papa exchanged a quick, knowing look with Lakhan Chacha, both of them looking incredibly pleased by how detail-oriented their new Queen was.

"Tum bilkul apni maa pe gayi ho, Siya ki tarah har cheez ka dhyan rehta hai," Papa chuckled warmly, patting my shoulder affectionately. "(You are just like your mother Siya, always paying attention to every little detail.) Don't worry about a heavy setup, beta. They are coming straight from a formal lunch at the state house. Just have the staff arrange some fresh green tea, mineral water, and a platter of dry fruits on the side table in the study. No need for a full service."

"Ji, Papa Ji. I'll get it done right away," I replied, feeling a wave of relief.

I turned back toward the kitchen to brief Dhristi and the staff, knowing that with the guests' arrangements sorted, I could finally deliver Rudra's coffee before his legendary patience completely ran out.

I hurried back into the kitchen, the silver *payals* on my ankles chiming with every swift step. "Dhristi, don't worry about the heavy snacks for the study," I said, taking a breath as I turned to the head chef and two waiting royal servers. "Papa Ji said no heavy food. Just arrange a platter of premium dry fruits, some fresh green tea, and bottles of imported mineral water on the side console in the study. Quickly, before they sit down."

"Ji, Ranisa," the servants replied instantly, bowing their heads before moving with practiced, silent efficiency to gather the crystal glassware and silver platters.

Just as the staff began prepping, the deep, synchronized rumble of three high-end cars echoing through the portico signaled that the delegation had arrived. Through the kitchen's arched service window, I could hear the formal greetings of the royal guards welcoming the core state ministers and foreign infrastructure investors into the grand wing of the palace.

The atmosphere in the house instantly shifted into high-stakes corporate diplomacy.

Turning back to Dhristi, I gently took the heavy silver tray back from her hands, balancing Rudra and Akshat’s custom strong black coffees along with the healthy baked snacks.

"The guests are here," I told her, giving her a reassuring nod. "You go to Krish upstairs. Make sure he stays entertained with his racing cars and finishes that malai bread. I'll handle the study."

"Okay, Bhabhi. Good luck in the lion's den," Dhristi teased with a small smile before slipping out toward the grand staircase.

Smoothing down the pallu of my deep wine georgette saree, I adjusted my posture, letting the elegant poise of the Queen take over. With the two neatly dressed royal servants following respectfully a step behind me—carrying the dry fruits and green tea service—I walked down the long, private corridor leading straight to the massive, soundproof oak doors of the study.

The royal guard standing outside the heavy oak doors knocked twice with absolute military precision.

From inside the soundproof room, Rudra’s deep, commanding baritone cut through instantly. "Come in."

The guard pushed the grand doors open, bowing his head respectfully as I stepped into the lion's den first. The heavy, masculine scent of sandalwood, leather, and premium tobacco filled the air. Around the massive, polished mahogany conference table, the atmosphere was incredibly tense. Rudra was sitting at the head of the table in his taupe-grey shirt, looking every bit the cold, ruthless King of Rajasthan, while Akshat sat to his right, a mountain of corporate files open before him. Ram Papa, Lakhan Chacha, and four sharply dressed foreign investors and state ministers occupied the remaining leather chairs.

The moment the door opened, the low murmur of intense business talk ceased. Every eye in the room turned toward the entrance, but I kept my composure, letting the elegant grace of my wine georgette saree trail behind me as I walked straight toward the brothers.

I approached Rudra's side first. He didn't say a word, but the sudden, intense flare of heat in his **ocean-blue eyes** was completely unreadable to the rest of the room. His gaze heavily tracked my hand—and the red bridal *chooda* jingling around my wrist—as I carefully lifted his mug of strong black coffee and placed it precisely near his right hand. Right next to it, I set the small platter of roasted makhanas and fresh berries.

"Your coffee, Patidev," I murmured softly, offering him a brief, professional but reassuring smile.

Rudra’s jaw ticked, a dark, possessive spark lighting up his eyes as he gave a single, slow nod, his large hand instantly wrapping around the hot mug. "Thank you, Janna," he rumbled in a rough, private baritone that sent a familiar shiver down my spine.

I then moved a step to the side, lifting the second mug of strong black coffee and placing it gently in front of Akshat.

"Thank you, Bhabhi," Akshat sighed with immense relief, rubbing his tired eyes. "My throat was completely parched from yelling at the international logistics team all afternoon."

"Mention not, bhaiya," I replied with a warm chuckle, sliding the second plate of healthy, baked almond snacks toward his files.

Akshat picked up the hot mug, taking a grateful sip, and looked up at me with a goofy, dramatic grin. "Seriously, you are the absolute best."

I playfully tossed my head back, my oversized amber earrings swaying against my neck as I muttered under my breath, "I know."

Akshat choked on a laugh, quickly covering his mouth with a cough as Rudra shot him a sharp, warning glare from the head of the table. I kept my face entirely neutral, stepping back gracefully as the two royal servants behind me began moving around the room.

With silent, flawless efficiency, they arranged the fresh green tea, crystal bottles of imported mineral water, and premium silver platters of dry fruits on the side console, ensuring the foreign delegation was thoroughly taken care of without disrupting the layout of the state blueprints.

One of the elderly state ministers looked at me, bowing his head with profound respect. "Khamma Ghani, Ranisa. We appreciate the royal hospitality. The King is indeed fortunate."

I folded my hands gracefully, accepting the greeting with the dignity expected of Rajasthan's Queen. "Please enjoy the refreshments, Minister. Have a productive meeting."

As I turned to leave the room, I caught Rudra’s gaze one last time. He was leaning back in his grand leather chair, his ocean-blue eyes completely dark and locked onto the sway of my saree, his thumb slowly rubbing the rim of his coffee mug in a way that screamed he was counting down the exact minutes until this meeting was over.

I smirked softly, letting the door click shut behind me as I walked back into the corridor, leaving the King to conquer his empire.

The grand grandfather clock in the palace lounge struck seven-thirty. The sun had completely dipped below the horizon, and the cool evening breeze of Rajasthan was rustling through the courtyard trees.

In the royal kitchen, Siya Maa and Chachi Urmila were busy supervising the head chefs, carefully reviewing the extensive royal dinner menu. With state ministers and foreign investors staying over, the spread had to be absolutely flawless.

Suddenly, Siya Maa paused mid-sentence, her hand flying to her forehead as a look of sheer panic crossed her elegant face.

"Hai Ram, Urmila!" Siya Maa exclaimed, turning to her sister-in-law. "Ram ji ki dawai! (Ram's medicine!) I completely forgot. He is supposed to take his heart health tablet exactly half an hour before dinner."

Chachi Urmila gasped softly, checking the time. "Oh ho, bhabhi. They’ve been locked in that intense state meeting for hours now. With all those ministers and blueprints, Bhaiya must have completely lost track of time. He won't remember to take it on his own."

I was just walking into the kitchen to check if they needed help when Siya Maa spotted me. Her eyes lit up with relief as she hurried over, gently taking my hands into hers.

"Ishi, beta, thank goodness you're here," Siya Maa said, her voice filled with maternal urgency. "Papa Ji ki dawai ka waqt ho gaya hai. (It’s time for Papa Ji’s medicine.) They are still deep in their negotiations in the study, and I can't leave the kitchen right now because of the dessert presentation. Can you please take his tablet and a glass of warm water to him?"

"Ji, Maa, aap bilkul chinta mat karo," I replied instantly, giving her hands a reassuring squeeze. "(Don't worry at all, Maa.) I'll take it to him right now."

I walked over to the designated medical cabinet in the dining hall, carefully retrieving Papa Ji’s specific prescription bottle. Pouring a fresh glass of warm water, I arranged everything neatly on a small silver tray. The silver *payals* on my ankles chimed softly against the quiet marble floor as I made my way back down the long corridor toward the study, fully aware that I was about to interrupt the final, highest-stakes segment of the King's meeting.

I reached the end of the long corridor, the silver tray balanced steadily in my hands. The moment the two royal guards standing outside the heavy oak doors spotted my deep wine georgette saree, they immediately straightened their posture and stepped aside, bowing their heads in deep respect. Of course, who would dare stop the Queen of Rajasthan from entering any room in her own palace?

Instead of the guard knocking this time, I gently rapped my knuckles against the solid wood myself.

Inside, the low, intense murmur of financial projections stopped. Rudra’s deep, commanding baritone cut through the silence, his tone sharp and slightly impatient from hours of relentless debating. "Who is it?"

"Me," I called out softly, my voice carrying clearly through the thick wood.

The change in the room’s atmosphere was instantaneous. I could practically hear the hard edge in Rudra's posture melt away. "Come in, Janna."

I pushed the heavy door open and stepped inside, my silver *payals* tinkling softly in the quiet room. The study was covered in even more paperwork than before; blueprints were spread across the console, and the foreign investors looked thoroughly exhausted, while Rudra and Akshat still sat completely sharp and unyielding.

I bypassed the corporate layout entirely, walking directly past Rudra’s intensely focused **ocean-blue eyes** and straight over to where Ram Papa was sitting at the center of the table.

I placed the small silver tray gently on the table right next to his documents, lifting the prescription tablet and the glass of warm water.

"Papa Ji, aap bhool gaye phir? Khana kaise khaate aap? (Papa Ji, you forgot again? How would you have eaten your dinner then?)" I scolded him in a gentle, caring tone, completely ignoring the presence of the high-profile ministers around us.

Papa blinked, looking down at the tablet, and a sheepish, defeated smile broke across his warm face. He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to look casual in front of his business associates. "Baad mein le leta, beta. (I would have taken it later, child.) We were just finishing up the final clause."

"Nahi, Maa tension le rahi thi, aap abhi le lijiye, (No, Maa was getting really stressed about it, please take it right now,)" I insisted firmly, slipping into my role as the protective daughter-in-law of the house. I popped the pill out of the foil strip and handed it to him along with the warm water.

Lakhan Chacha chuckled softly from across the table, shaking his head. "Take it, Bhai Sahab. You can negotiate with the entire country, but you can't win an argument against the women of this house."

The state ministers smiled warmly at the sweet domestic scene, their respect for our family only growing. Papa gave a hearty laugh, taking the medicine from my hand and swallowing it down with the water. "Tum sahi kehti ho, beta. Siya toh bas choti choti baat par bimar hone ka dhar dikhane lagti hai. (You're right, child. Siya starts getting worried over the smallest things.) Look, I've taken it."

"Good," I smiled beautifully, taking the empty glass back from him and placing it on the tray. "Now you can continue your meeting. Dinner will be served in exactly twenty minutes."

As I turned to pick up the tray, my eyes involuntarily locked with Rudra’s. He was leaning back in his grand leather chair, a deeply proud, devastatingly handsome smile playing on his lips as he watched me handle his father with so much love. His possessive gaze tracked the elegant drape of my saree

Before I could pick up the silver tray and exit, I stopped right behind Rudra’s grand leather chair. I lightly placed my hand on his broad shoulder, feeling the iron-clad tension in his muscular frame instantly ease at my touch.

I leaned down close, my breath brushing against his ear as my long, curly hair fell forward, shielding our private conversation from the rest of the crowded boardroom.

"One minute, Ru," I whispered softly.

Rudra didn't hesitate for a single second. He gave a slow, firm nod, completely pausing his train of thought mid-sentence to tune entirely into my voice.

"Vardaan bhaiya called about some urgent work," I murmured directly into his ear, the subtle scent of my rose body wash enveloping him. "He was trying to reach you or Akshat bhaiya, but because all of your phones are on silent for the meeting, he couldn't get through. He said it couldn't wait, so he sent the documents directly to my phone instead."

Rudra’s **ocean-blue eyes** sharpened instantly, the cold, calculative corporate king snapping right back into action. He turned his head slightly, his lips almost brushing my cheek as he looked up at me, his jaw tight.

"What kind of documents, Janna?" he rumbled in a low, rough whisper meant only for me.

"He said it's the final legal clearance clauses for the Delhi expansion project," I explained quietly, pulling my sleek smartphone out from the folds of my wine georgette saree. I unlocked the screen, opening the encrypted file Vardaan had just messaged over, and handed the phone directly into his large, waiting palm.

Rudra took the device, his thumb brushing deliberately against my fingers in a slow, possessive caress before he pulled the screen closer to his face. His eyes scanned the legal text with rapid, lethal efficiency, his entire demeanor shifting into a dangerously focused block of ice as he prepared to analyze whatever roadblock his brother had unearthed.

"Keep the phone with you, Ru. I'll head back out, hmm?" I whispered, nodding toward the door as I straightened up from his shoulder.

Rudra’s **ocean-blue eyes** didn't leave my face as he gripped the device firmly. "Thank you, Janna," he rumbled softly, his thumb tracing the back of my hand one last time before letting go.

I picked up the empty silver tray, turning on my heel to leave the study so they could finish up. The soft, rhythmic *chan-chan* of my silver *payals* accompanied my steps as I walked past the long conference table.

Behind me, Rudra immediately pivoted the meeting, tapping the screen of my phone. "Akshat, look at this. Vardaan bhaiya just flagged the third-tier clearance clause for the Delhi expansion. The land acquisition department is trying to stall us."

Before Akshat could even answer, a middle-aged investor sitting near the end of the table cleared his throat. He leaned back in his leather chair, a cynical, patronizing smirk playing on his lips. "Rathore, don't you think it's a bit absurd... sending highly classified corporate documents to the personal phone of the house ladies?"

I froze dead in my tracks, my back stiffening instantly. My fingers tightened around the edges of the silver tray.

*Excuse me, what did he just say?*

I slowly turned around, the pleats of my deep wine georgette saree swirling around my ankles as my brown eyes locked onto the man who spoke. "Excuse me? What did you just say?"

The man, completely oblivious to the dangerous shift in the room's temperature, let out a condescending chuckle. "I'm just saying, it’s highly unprofessional, isn't it? Sending high-stakes state and corporate data to the phone of a person who doesn't understand the first thing about business."

The air in the room completely turned to ice.

Beside me, I heard the sharp, violent screech of a leather chair sliding backward. Rudra’s frame** was already launching upward, his face twisted into a terrifying, murderous snarl, his fists clenching so hard his knuckles turned stark white. Akshat was right behind him, his eyes blazing with protective rage for his bhabhi. The Prince of Rajasthan was a split second away from physically dragging this man across the table.

But I didn't need him to.

Without breaking eye contact with the investor, I lifted my right hand and gave a sharp, commanding **flick of my fingers** toward my husband.

*Sit. Back. Down.*

Rudra caught the gesture. His chest heaved with volatile fury, his ocean-blue eyes burning into mine, but the absolute authority in my posture made him slowly, reluctantly lower himself back into his chair. He sat rigid, a lethal predator waiting on my leash, his jaw locked in a terrifying line.

I set the silver tray down on the side console with a deliberate, sharp *clink* and took three slow, elegant steps back toward the table.

"And why exactly do you think I don't know anything about work, Mr. Singhania?" I asked, my voice dropping into a dangerously calm, ice-cold tone that perfectly matched the Rathore aura.

Across the table, the other two state ministers looked absolutely horrified. One of them frantically nudged Singhania’s arm, whispering harshly, *"Shut up, Singhania! Do you have a death wish? Sit down!"*

But Singhania, blinded by his own arrogance and deep-seated patriarchy, brushed his colleague's hand away. He looked up at my  figure**, completely missing the fact that I was staring at him like a wolf about to tear its prey apart.

"Of course I have my reasons, Ranisa," Singhania said, a mockingly polite smile on his face. "I did my background research before coming to the palace. I found out you are still studying. You haven't even completed your master's degree yet."

A cold, mocking laugh escaped my lips, my oversized amber earrings shaking against my jawline. "Just because I am still studying, that means I don't understand economics? That means I don't understand corporate infrastructure?"

"Oh, come now," he sneered, waving a dismissive hand. "Except for your little makeup hobby and modeling gigs, what exposure do you have? And now, you are a Rathore. So, naturally, the privilege speaks for itself. It’s easy to play at being a Queen when your husband owns the top five companies in the world."

Akshat looked like he was about to jump over the table and strangle him, but I raised my hand slightly, silencing my brother-in-law without even looking at him.

I leaned forward, placing both of my hands flat on the polished mahogany table, forcing Singhania to look directly into the fierce, unyielding pride of an independent woman.

"Let me tell you one thing, Mr. Singhania," I said, every single syllable dripping with absolute venom. "I am incredibly glad, and deeply proud, that I am a Rathore now. I wear this name with honor."

I straightened up, crossing my arms over my chest, the diamonds of my *mangalsutra* flashing under the study lights.

"But let's clear up your pathetic misconception right here," I continued, a triumphant, lethal smirk spreading across my face. "I was successfully running and managing my own premium makeup and styling studio in Delhi—handling international clients, balancing corporate logistics, and turning a massive profit—long before I ever knew the Rathor name even existed. I built my identity with my own two hands, far away from any royal privilege."

I leaned in just an inch closer, my eyes boring into his trembling ones. "So before you open your mouth to question my intellect or my position in this palace again, remember who you are talking to. You are sitting in my house, pitching a contract to my husband, and right now... you are looking at a woman who can dismantle your entire investment portfolio before your next breath. Am I clear?"

Singhania’s face turned an ugly, mottled shade of crimson. He let out a sharp, mocking laugh that sounded incredibly hollow in the suffocating silence of the study, trying desperately to salvage his shattered ego in front of the other investors.

"You are threatening me, Ranisa, simply because your husband is the King and happens to own two of the biggest companies in the country," Singhania sneered, throwing his head back defensively. "Take away the Rathore title, and you're just a girl behind a makeup brush."

A slow, devastatingly wicked smile spread across my face. I tilted my head, my oversized amber earrings catching the sharp overhead light as I looked down at him with pure, unadulterated amusement.

"No, Mr. Singhania," I countered, my voice dangerously smooth, ringing out like a crystal bell in the quiet room. "I am not threatening you because my husband is the King. I am threatening you because **I own eighty percent of the shares**, and he holds forty percent in both *The Rathor Company* and *Eternity*."

Singhania froze, his breath hitching instantly in his throat. The smug grin completely vanished from his face as his eyes widened in absolute horror. He frantically looked over at Rudra, then back to me, his brain failing to compute the math.

Beside me, Akshat couldn't hold it in anymore. He let out a loud, triumphant burst of laughter, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms, thoroughly enjoying the show. Ram Papa and Lakhan Chacha didn't say a word either; they just sat there with incredibly proud, satisfied smirks resting on their faces.

"So technically, Mr. Singhania..." I leaned down slightly, placing one hand flat on the mahogany table, my red bridal *chooda* jingling softly as I delivered the final, crushing blow. "...both of those multi-billion-dollar companies are **mine**."

I straightened back up to my full **5'3" height**, smoothing down the flawless pleats of my wine georgette saree with absolute elegance.

"My husband handles the operations because I allow him to," I added, my brown eyes flashing with unyielding authority. "But the ultimate signature on the paper you are holding right now? That belongs to me. So if I decide your attitude is unprofessional, I don't need to ask the King to throw you out. I can blackball your entire firm from the Indian market myself."

From the head of the table, the terrifying, murderous tension that had been radiating from Rudra’s frame completely evaporated.

Instead, he was leaning back comfortably in his grand leather chair, his hands loosely draped over the armrests. His **ocean-blue eyes** were burning with a fierce, intoxicating mix of pure adoration, obsessive pride, and unbridled amusement. He didn't care that I had just publicly claimed his entire corporate empire as mine. In fact, he looked like he wanted to drop to his knees right here and worship the ground I walked on for being so fiercely ruthless.

"You heard my Queen, Singhania," Rudra rumbled, his deep baritone dropping into a cold, lethal whisper that made the entire room shiver. He slowly stood up, towering over the table like a dark god, his jaw locked. "Technically, I am just an employee running her empire. Laksh, terminate the contract negotiations with

Singhania's firm immediately. Security will escort him off the palace grounds before dinner is served."