Tycoon's Twisted Woman

6- She's awake

Rudransh's POV-

After a shower and a talk with Virat, I did some office work from home. Due to the curfew, no one, including me, was able to go to the office. So here I am, having an online conference with some important clients from New York.

"Mr. Rajvansh, we would like to settle this deal at a 30:70 ratio, no less," Mr. James suggested in his thick American accent.

"As I mentioned, Mr. James, my team and I have discussed all the expenses, from mining construction to the cleaning and shaping of the diamonds, which are rare pink and blue ones. A 30:70 ratio is something I can't consider. How about 10:90?" I replied, tapping my forefingers together.

The Rajvansh group has many businesses—education, medical, mining, construction, clothing brands, hotel and café chains—including diamonds.

We have hotels, cafés, and designer boutiques in New York, but diamonds? Not yet. And this deal could help us step into the diamond market there.

"Mr. Rajvansh, the deal is too good to pass up; it benefits both of us. We give you the market here, and you give us India. But 10:90 is lower than we expected. How about 25:75?" he countered.

"12:88."

"20:80?"

"15:85."

"Okay! How about we settle on 17:83?" he proposed finally.

It was a great deal, too good to let go, so I agreed to 17:83.

"Alright, Mr. James, it's final—17:83. My team will send you a contract via email. Once you're satisfied with the terms and conditions, we'll seal the deal with a small party," I concluded, wrapping up the final points of discussion before ending the meeting.

Given the success of the deal today, I decided to give the staff, including myself, a half day off.

As it was almost lunchtime, I made my way downstairs to the hall.

Ma, Grandma, Grandpa, Chachu, Chachi, Papa, Aditya, Aditi, Vikrant, Samrat, and Samridhi were all there, chatting as usual. Except for that girl.

Aditya and Aditi, as always, were doing their twin thing—speaking in sync.

For example:

"Dadi, what did you do in Delhi?" Aditi asked.

"Dadi, where did you go in Delhi?" Aditya added.

They said it at the exact same time, not a second's delay.

Everyone was enjoying themselves, so I decided to pay a visit to the girl, 'Mishthi.'

"How is she, doctor?" I asked as soon as I entered the guest room, pointing towards her unconscious figure.

"For now, she's stable but still unconscious. She needs proper care and rest. She lost a significant amount of blood due to a deep bullet graze, and she also has several injuries on her forehead, face, neck, and forearm. There’s also a fresh stab wound on her left shoulder, just above her heart," the doctor said with a concerned expression.

What caught my attention was the stab wound on her shoulder. How did she get stabbed? That’s the main question.

Is she a criminal? A terrorist? Or was she attacked?

Ugh, too many questions. But why am I even thinking about this unnecessarily? I'll either find out through the investigation, or I'll ask her directly when she wakes up.

"Make sure she gets proper treatment; she saved Grandma's life twice," I ordered in my usual cold tone before exiting the room. By tomorrow, I’ll know everything about this stranger named Mishthi.

Mishthi. A sweet name.

‘What the hell am I thinking? A nice name?’ Heck.

Shaking my head, I walked back to where everyone was sitting.

"Ansh? My baby, come sit with us." Ah, Mom. I’m 26, for God’s sake. I can make babies now.

"Mom, come on, I'm 26, not a toddler. You don’t have to call me 'baby' or 'Ansh baby' anymore. You know, you can save that for when I actually have babies," I said in an irritated tone. I heard multiple gasps.

"You need a filter, my baby boy. And as for calling you 'baby,' you will always be my little baby boy, even if you have kids of your own. Understand?" Mom said, pulling my cheeks as I sat beside her.

"Yeah, whatever," I replied, placing my head on her lap. She caressed my hair.

Only my family can mess with me like this—calling me clingy names, pulling my cheeks. And only Mom and Dadi have the right to touch my hair.

To everyone else, I’m a ruthless, heartless, proud billionaire. A 'handsome hulk'—as some say. Strict and devilish to those who harm me or my people.

"Mam, lunch is ready," a maid informed us after some time.

"Okay, everyone get up," Mom ordered, and we all moved toward the dining hall.

We sat in our respective seats. Today's menu included butter chicken, fried rice, dal fry, chapatis, salad, and raita, with ice cream for dessert.

We finished lunch, chatting about random things. It's strictly prohibited to use phones or discuss business at the dining table.

It's rare for all of us to be home at the same time, especially me, so today was a family day. We were sitting in the garden under the gazebo, playing cards.

"Madam, the doctor asked me to inform you—the girl is awake," the maid said in her meek voice.

"Really?" Grandma confirmed before rushing inside toward her room, with everyone following.

"Mishthi! My child!" she exclaimed as soon as she reached the room.

"Aunty?" Mishthi’s voice was weak and low, but sweet, just like her name.

Damn it, Ansh! Stop your mind.

"Aunty, are you okay? Th-that man… gun… shot..." she said, her voice hoarse and broken, making it hard for others to understand.

But I understood.

"Huh?" Dadi responded, confused.

"She's asking about the terrorist who shot you," I clarified, piecing together her broken words.

"Oh! I'm safe, dear, and he's dead. Thank you. Because of you, I’m alive," Dadi said with great gratitude, holding her soft hands in her wrinkled ones.

Even though she's a stranger, we're grateful to her. If it weren’t for her, Dadi would have been dead.

"It's alright, Aunty. You helped me, so I did the same," she said, her voice sounding a bit stronger now, as Grandma helped her drink some water.

"Where am I?" she asked, looking around at her unfamiliar surroundings.

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