Chapter-4

The Mehta-Shah wedding was still days away, but Thakur Mansion had already transformed into a battlefield—one lined with silk-draped walls and illuminated by golden chandeliers.

The air was thick with the scent of fresh marigolds and something far less floral—power plays.

At the center of it all were Leela Mehta and Ananya Shah—two women bound by an impending marriage alliance yet locked in a sophisticated, silent war.

Ananya was sharp but inexperienced, ambitious but easily swayed—especially by her mother, Srijala Shah, a South Mumbai socialite who had spent decades mastering the fine art of control. Srijala had always resented Leela’s ability to not just survive but thrive after her husband abandoned her, building her family’s business into an empire. She had no intention of letting her daughter become Leela’s puppet after marriage.

Leela, on the other hand, saw Ananya for what she was—an educated idiot, book-smart yet lacking the instincts needed for true power. And she refused to let a naive girl—or worse, a mother-in-law with a grudge—undermine her son’s future.

Caught in the middle of this battle?

Krishna.

Unknowingly, unwittingly, unintentionally brilliant Krishna, whom both women had begun using as their personal chess piece.

********

"Krishna Beta, come here," Leela’s authoritative yet affectionate voice rang through the hall.

Krishna, already balancing a pile of wedding schedules in her arms, rushed toward Leela, narrowly dodging a decorator carrying an oversized chandelier. "Ji, Ma’am?"

Leela gestured toward the wedding seating chart. "Shift Mr. Gupta to the front row, next to Kundan ji."

Ananya, standing just a few feet away, turned at once, her expression polite but firm. "Oh, but Mamma already decided that the Guptas would sit with the Malhotras."

Leela’s smile didn’t falter. "Yes, I heard. But Mr. Gupta has been a business associate for over two decades. It would be disrespectful to seat him anywhere but the front."

Ananya’s own smile sharpened. "The Malhotras are our newest investors. Surely, we must show them the importance they hold for the company’s future?"

Krishna, caught in the middle, shifted her weight uncomfortably. She hadn’t even looked at the chart yet, and the tension was already thick enough to cut through with a butter knife.

Leela looked at Krishna, her expression expectant. "What do you think, Beta?"

Ananya folded her arms. "Yes, Krishna, tell us. What would be appropriate?"

Krishna blinked. Why was she being dragged into this? But years of dealing with last-minute business crises had taught her how to think fast.

She looked at the chart and then at the two women watching her like hawks. Then, she smiled.

"Ma’am, how about we seat the Guptas in the front for the wedding ceremony, and then place them with the Malhotras at the reception dinner? That way, both relationships are honored?"

Silence.

Then, Leela’s approving nod. "Smart girl."

Ananya hesitated, but even she couldn’t argue against Krishna’s diplomatic solution.

"Hmm." She flicked her hair over her shoulder and turned away, but not before muttering, "Useful, this one."

From the side, Srijala—who had been observing the whole thing with a wine glass in hand—smirked. "Yes, Krishna Bitiya, very useful indeed."

Anshuman, who had been lounging on the couch watching the drama unfold, took a sip of his drink.

He turned to Pia, who was happily munching on sweets, completely unaware of the cold war raging in front of her. "Pia, at this rate, I think we need to find a sack soon."

Pia blinked at him, confused. "Why?"

Ansh grinned. "Because Maa is going to stuff Krishna into it and take her back to Mumbai with us."

Pia gasped. “What?!”

Ansh grinned. “Relax. I’ll make sure they leave air holes.”

Pia stared at him before bursting into laughter.

From across the room, Leela—who had definitely heard that—gave her younger son a look. Ansh just grinned back.

Ansh shook his head, still amused. "Seriously though, if Krishna ever realizes how much these ladies depend on her, she might just start charging extra."

*********

Leela sat comfortably on the plush sofa, flipping through sari designs for the upcoming wedding rituals. Across from her, Ananya stood with arms crossed, her mother Srijala beside her, sipping chai as if she were watching a delightful afternoon soap opera.

"Krishna Beta, bring me the red Banarasi sari from the collection," Leela instructed, eyes still on the magazine.

Before Krishna could move, Ananya interjected smoothly. "No need, Krishna. I’ll be wearing the ivory and gold lehenga for that function."

Leela looked up, a knowing smile on her lips. "Ivory and gold? For the pheras?"

Ananya nodded. "Yes. It’s modern. It’s elegant. And I prefer it."

Leela chuckled lightly. "Modern? Yes. But tradition says a bride should wear auspicious colors during the pheras."

Ananya lifted her chin slightly. "Times change, Leela Aunty."

Leela’s expression remained pleasant, but her words held weight. "Ah. But values don’t."

The temperature in the room dropped a few degrees. Krishna, sensing an imminent storm, quickly stepped in. "Ma’am, why not wear the red Banarasi sari for the pheras and the ivory lehenga for the reception? That way, both tradition and elegance are maintained."

Leela smiled. "Krishna Beta, I like the way you think."

Ananya exhaled, clearly unhappy that she had to compromise, but forced a polite nod. "Fine."

Srijala, who had been observing the exchange with a smirk, leaned toward Ananya and whispered, "See, I told you. The girl is already Leela’s."

Ananya frowned, but said nothing.

***************

After a long and weary investor meeting, Aryaman and Sid took their bickering to the balcony, needing fresh air and cigarettes.

Sid leaned against the railing. “You’re expanding too aggressively. The eastern market is volatile.”

Aryaman exhaled smoke, his tone dry. “And you’re playing too safe. Growth requires risk.”

Inside, Kundan Shah sat quietly, studying them both.

Two brilliant yet flawed heirs.

One was a manipulative strategist.

The other, a reckless visionary.

Sid was too calculated. Aryaman was too bold.

Sid lacked ambition. Aryaman lacked caution.

Kundan wanted to retire soon.

But who would he leave the empire to?

He had no answer yet.

Outside, Aryaman took another drag from his cigarette when his gaze casually flickered toward the gate.

Krishna was leaving for the day.

A young boy in a school uniform ran up to her, and her face lit up with pure joy.

Aryaman recognized the kid—her younger brother, Mohan.

She smiled at him, bright and unguarded, ruffling his hair with genuine affection.

A small chuckle escaped her lips, something soft and utterly uncalculated.

Aryaman, still puffing out a slow cloud of smoke, stilled for a fraction of a second.

Would she ever smile like that for someone else?

…Perhaps for h—

“You’re not considering market instability enough,” Sid’s voice interrupted.

Aryaman blinked, erasing the useless thought from his mind.

He turned back to Sid.

“Then let’s find a solution,” he said.

With that, the discussion resumed—power, markets, and empires taking precedence over fleeting observations.