" 𝐒𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐬𝐢𝐧 𝐈 𝐚𝐦 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐡 "
Advait Agnihotry... He was my pride.
My heart.
The reason I breathed.
But now... now for the first time in my life-I qu...
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"Ten minutes—or you’re done." I gritted out in a clipped tone, my frustration clearly visible in the way I was speaking.
The nerve of those people to drop a last-minute ultimatum like it’s nothing, like the weight of an entire month’s worth of work isn’t hanging by a single, fraying thread.
I’m furious—boiling. Not the kind of irritation that simmers quietly, but the kind that roars to life instantly, sparking behind my eyes. My jaw locks, my shoulders go rigid, and my grip on the phone tightens.
Even Grace didn’t inform me about this—and she’s always on top of things. The clients aren’t just any clients—they’re from Australia, international investors with no patience for mediocrity, the kind that can make or break reputations with a single word. We have to present flawlessly.
And here we are, with a deadline shoved in my face, and not a soul I can trust to handle this under pressure.
We’ve poured an entire month into this project. Days, nights, weekends—it’s been our collective obsession. And now? They want changes in half a day.
Half. A. Day.
The real problem? We haven’t even informed Sharma Enterprise yet. And this is the kind of news that, if handled poorly, could strain the strongest partnerships.
Diya Sharma.
The name alone brings a certain kind of stillness to my thoughts. She’s the CEO of Sharma Enterprise, and one of the sharpest business minds I’ve ever encountered. I’m not the type to hand out praise—hell, I barely acknowledge competence in most people—but she’s different. She’s disciplined to the bone, ruthless when she needs to be, and her perfectionism? It’s almost unnerving. She doesn’t miss. Ever.
But this isn’t just about admiring her. This is about survival. About cleaning up the catastrophic mess a handful of good-for-nothing fuckers have just made of our project.
I pull out my phone and scroll to Grace’s number—my secretary, my right hand in every storm. She’s capable, efficient, and terrifyingly good at her job. I dial, already preparing my rapid-fire instructions.
But I don’t hear Grace’s voice.
I hear hers.
Diya.
Thank fucking god.
It’s like the universe, for once, decided to play nice. If Diya’s here, this disaster might actually be salvageable.
I don’t waste a second. The entire Agnihotry Empire feels like it’s hanging by a thread right now. My employees? Each and every one of them is seconds away from getting fired. One wrong word, one wrong move, and I’ll gladly escort them out myself.
