Sunday morning arrived like a soft whisper. The sky was pale with winter haze, and the city breathed slower on weekends. I sat by my bedroom window, sipping black coffee in silence. Today was the day I'd be stepping into the next phase of my plan not with war, but with wine and silk.
Jenna had sent a reminder the night before — "Ma'am, shopping with Anika at 12. I've arranged a private appointment at Zyana Luxe Couture." My lips curved. Perfect.
At noon sharp, I arrived at the boutique, a sun-drenched, glass-walled haven of soft pastels, satin drapes, and champagne flutes. Anika walked in just a few minutes after me, dressed in a lavender kurta and jeans, her smile as radiant as ever.
"You look stunning, Aliza," she said as she hugged me.
"And you look like spring," I replied warmly.
We explored racks of handwoven sarees and designer lehengas. I watched her run her fingers over fabrics like they were treasure — her eyes lighting up at intricate threadwork, soft shimmer, gentle ruffles. She was a woman unspoiled by greed. Almost angelic.
Over sparkling juice and laughter, she told me about her students, her dreams of building a library in the school, and her childhood in Jaipur. Then, in a moment of vulnerability, she said:
"Sometimes I feel... I don't know, Aryan's been distant lately. He's sweet, but distracted. I think his work stresses him out."
My smile didn't falter, but inside, a storm curled around my heart. You poor, loyal thing.
"Work does that to all men," I said gently, resting a hand over hers. "But sometimes, they just need someone who sees beyond it. And I think he has that already."
She smiled, grateful. I wanted to scream.
As we were paying, I handed her a clutch she had been hesitant to buy.
"A gift," I said. "For your Sunday sunshine."
We hugged again before parting. She walked away clutching the bag like it was the kindest thing anyone had done for her. It probably was.
That night, Jenna called.
"Ma'am, Aryan's garage in Jaipur — Ven AutoTech — is hosting an internal audit on Wednesday. He'll be there with his senior team."
"Perfect," I said. "Send a message to his office. Let them know as one of the selected partners, I'll be visiting their Jaipur unit personally to assess the tech integration. Schedule it as a 'surprise inspection.'"
"Should I inform Mr. Aryan?"
"No. Let's keep it fun."
Aryan's POV
The garage smelled like diesel, grease, and tension. Aryan sat in his corner office overlooking the floor, rubbing his temple. His inbox was flooded. Employees spoke in hushed tones around him — ever since the Aliza deal, he had felt eyes on him.
He hadn't been sleeping well.
The moment in the green room still haunted him. The touch, the heat, the pain in her eyes. Her whisper — Did you think this would be easy, babe? — echoed in his head like a cruel lullaby.
He thought of Anika — her soft smile, her Sunday stories, her childlike joy after shopping. Guilt gnawed at him.
Then came the notification: Ms. Aliza Heri will be visiting Ven AutoTech (Jaipur Unit) on Wednesday for a partnership review.
His heart stilled.
On Wednesday.
My heels clicked against the floors of Ven AutoTech's Jaipur office. I was dressed in a pristine white blazer, fitted black trousers, and blood-red heels. A red diamond pendant rested on my collarbone. My hair was tied in a high ponytail, face sharp, gaze sharper.
Employees stood like disciplined soldiers.
"Welcome, Ms. Heri," one of the junior managers stammered.
"Let's start the walkthrough," I said, not even sparing a glance.
I walked past men who once saw me as just a girl. Now I was power in motion.
Aryan appeared midway — button-down shirt rolled to his elbows, sweat slightly glistening on his forehead.
"Aliza," he said, breath caught.
"Mr. Ven," I nodded coldly. "Walk with me."
We walked past the engine testing zone, past diagnostics, into the new AI-based service bay.
"Your system's lagging," I said, scanning the interface. "Who installed this software?"
"Our Jaipur lead. We were going to update next week," he said quickly.
"No delays. My name's on this partnership now. Everything reflects me."
He swallowed.
The rest of the walkthrough was surgical. Efficient. Emotionless.
When I finished, Aryan followed me to the exit.
"Aliza—"
"Don't. You got your pitch. Do your job."
I left him there. Standing in his own kingdom. Dethroned by a smile.
That night, I stood on my balcony in Delhi, staring into the sky.
One by one, the dominos would fall.
And none of them would hear me coming.