"Di… leave my hand!" she shouted, struggling. "I won't let you marry my sister to that worthless man!"
Her voice cracked, carrying both desperation and defiance. The walls of the house seemed to echo her words, sharp and uncompromising. For a moment, even her father paused, his expression still unreadable, as the room filled with the storm of a daughter's rebellion and the quiet desperation of a sister caught in the middle.
Samridhi dragged kusum into the room and shut the door firmly behind them. The walls felt suffocating, heavy with unspoken pain. Kusum's eyes were burning—half with tears, half with rage—as she stared at her sister.
"Di…" her voice cracked, trembling despite her anger. "Why did you agree to marry that disgusting man? How could you say yes?"
Samridhi didn't answer immediately. Her silence screamed louder than words. When she finally spoke, her voice was calm—but exhausted, as if she had already lost the battle long ago.
"Kusum," she said softly, "do you really think Papa would ever listen to us? And anyway… one day I have to get married. It was bound to happen sooner or later."
She forced a faint smile. "So why not him?"
Those words pierced straight through Sarah's heart.
"No!" Kusum shouted, her fists clenched. "I know marriage is inevitable, Di. But shouldn't Papa at least see what kind of man he is? He's cruel, arrogant, and disgusting. He's nowhere near worthy of you!"
Her tears finally fell. "I swear, I'll never let you marry that bastard!"
Samridhi stepped closer, cupping kusum's trembling hands in hers. Her eyes weren't angry—they were afraid.
"Kusum," she whispered urgently, "I don't have any problem with this marriage. Please… don't do anything reckless. I can't bear it if something bad happens to you."
And in that moment, Sarah understood everything.
Her sister wasn't agreeing out of choice. She was surrendering.
Sacrificing her own happiness.
Trading her dreams for kusum's safety.
Kusum opened her mouth to protest again, but Samridhi cut her off sharply this time, her voice breaking for the first time.
"Enough, kusum!"
Then, almost pleading, she added, "I swear on myself. Promise me you won't think about this anymore."
She took a deep breath and lied with a straight face, "I really like him. I want this marriage. Please… don't create any trouble. Let the wedding happen peacefully."
Every word felt like poison.
Kusum knew the truth—Samridhi was lying.
She was killing her own happiness with her own hands.
But a promise sworn with such desperation was impossible to break.
Kusum stood there, frozen, helpless, watching her sister walk away toward a fate she never chose—
and a darkness slowly began to settle inside her heart.
Meanwhile—New York.
The professor's voice echoed through the classroom, but to Riyansh, it sounded distant, almost unreal. His head rested against the desk, eyes closed, as if he didn't belong to this place at all. His face looked calm, eerily calm—but beneath that stillness, something dark seemed to be quietly buried.
Seated on the back bench, vebhav was physically present yet completely detached from the class. His book lay open, untouched. His attention was fixed on his phone, fingers moving lazily across the screen, a careless, almost flirtatious smile playing on his lips—as if rules, professors, and warnings meant nothing to him.
But the professor was watching.
From the last row, their behavior did not go unnoticed. The irritation on the professor's face deepened, his patience finally snapping. In a sharp, commanding voice, he spoke—
"You both… stand up!"
The words cut through the room like a blade.
Vebhav lifted his head. The tone in which he was addressed instantly wiped the smirk off his face. The playful charm vanished, replaced by something darker, colder. His eyes hardened as he asked in a low, dangerous voice,
"Are you talking to me?"
At the same moment, Riyansh opened his eyes. He glanced toward the professor and immediately understood—he was the other one being called out. Without asking a single question, without showing a trace of emotion, he stood up calmly.
His obedience was strange—not the kind born out of fear, but one that came from habit.
Vebhav hadn't expected Riyansh to be this compliant. Watching him stand there so quietly, with such minimal expression, vebhav curved his lips into a faint, crooked smile before finally rising to his feet as well.
The entire classroom fell into silence.
Two completely different personalities stood side by side—
One quiet, mysterious, and unreadable,
the other rebellious, sharp, and dangerously bold.
Both of them remained standing.
The professor's anger hadn't faded—it had sharpened into something far more dangerous: challenge.
"You're in an MBA program," he said coldly, his eyes scanning the room before settling on vebhav.
"So don't assume this classroom runs on slides and summaries."
His gaze hardened.
"Judging by your expression, you seem bored," he added.
"Let's see if that confidence has substance."
The entire classroom went still.
"Imagine this," the professor began, his tone slow and deliberate, like a boardroom briefing rather than a lecture.
"There's a global consumer-tech company aggressively expanding into three major markets—North America, Europe, and Southeast Asia—at the same time."
He continued without looking at his notes.
"The company's EBITDA has been declining for six consecutive quarters.
Its cash-burn rate is rising.
Short-term profitability is collapsing."
A pause.
"And yet—"
"• its market capitalization keeps rising
• institutional investors are not exiting
• and competitors are quietly retreating into defensive strategies"
The professor turned fully toward vebhav now.
"Tell me," he said, voice sharp,
"why would a company choose to bleed like this?"
"And as a CEO, how would you convince your board that this isn't strategic suicide—but calculated domination?"
This wasn't a classroom question.
It was a war-room test.
For a few seconds, no one breathed.
Then vebhav lifted his head.
There was no smirk this time.
No casual charm.
Only clarity.
"Because it isn't a loss," he said calmly.
"It's controlled destruction."
A ripple of shock passed through the room.
He continued, his voice steady, almost unsettling in its certainty.
"The company is sacrificing short-term profitability to—
• build supply-chain chokeholds
• secure data monopolies
• and force competitors into unsustainable price wars"
His eyes remained focused, unblinking.
"Investors aren't betting on revenue," he said.
"They're betting on future control."
Then, looking straight at the professor, he added quietly,
"This strategy fails only when fear enters the boardroom.
But if liquidity, reserves, and investor confidence remain intact—
this isn't loss-making."
"It's empire-building."
Silence swallowed the classroom.
The professor stared at him for a long moment.
The anger was gone now.
Replaced by something close to disbelief.
"That," he finally said, exhaling slowly,
"is not an MBA student answer."
He paused.
"That is a CEO's mindset."
Then he asked, "What's your name?"
"Vebhav," he replied, unbothered.
The professor's expression shifted instantly.
"Vebhav… Deshmukh?"
"Global MBA entrance examination—World Rank Two?"
A low murmur spread across the room.
Before vebhav could react, the professor's gaze drifted—inevitably—to Riyansh.
He studied his face.
Those eyes.
That silence.
Recognition struck him like lightning.
"And you…" he said quietly, almost respectfully.
"Riyansh goenka."
Riyansh met his gaze without emotion.
"World Rank One," the professor continued.
"Global MBA entrance rankings."
The room erupted in whispers.
Vebhav's jaw tightened.
World Rank One.
So this was him.
The name that had replaced his own at the very top.
Once, that knowledge would have ignited pure rage.
But now—
it sparked something else.
Interest.
Dangerous, deliberate interest.
The professor cleared his throat and straightened.
"You both may sit."
Then, with a rare smile, he added,
"Students like you don't merely pass an MBA."
"They redefine it."
Both of them took their seats.
Riyansh returned to his silence, unchanged, untouched—as if nothing extraordinary had happened at all.
But vebhav didn't look away.
Not anymore.
Because this was no longer about rankings.
It was about minds.
And vebhav had just found the one opponent
he couldn't afford to ignore.