What keeps the world moving? Love? Certainly not. Hope? Not really. Money? Absolutely, and no one knows it better than the rich upper class elites of India. But money is not the only thing you can earn. In fact, these elites will tell you there is o...
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Tonight's gala is being held at the Leela Palace's ballroom. It's a landmark event, not only for our company but for the entire industry. This ball had been the most coveted social event in the business world since the beginning of the year because it was a celebration of one hundred years of excellence and dominance. Invitations had been fought over, coveted by even the most prominent figures in business and politics.
But right now, the people in this room don't care much for networking; they're here for a spectacle. They're hear to see if the media headlines are true, that I'm a cold-blooded killer. This is my first public appearance since the world found out I'm up for a murder trial and I'll be making my first and only statement before the trial begins officially from tomorrow.
It is really a shame that my murder trial had to coincide with the anniversary. But I wouldn't be a businessman if I didn't monetize it. The Randhawa Group's shares have been dropping consistently since I became a murderer in the eyes of the public. This is the only way to assure the shareholders that I'm in control as ever.
The ballroom is resplendent in golds and whites, draped in luxury. Crystal chandeliers sparkle overhead, and the scent of expensive perfume mingles with the clinking of glasses. Every corner of the room is filled with power—captains of industry, politicians, influential figures from all walks of life. And all their eyes are on us. Conversations lull, replaced by slow whispers, as Samiksha and I step inside.
But I wouldn't be Vihaan Randhawa if I didn't know how to command a room. My expression remains as controlled as ever, my steps measured. I move with the same confidence that has led this empire to success, even with the storm swirling around me. Samiksha walks beside me, her arm linked with mine in a way that makes it clear: we are still united. Her presence is my silent support, rooting me.
Tonight is also our first official outing as a married couple, but when Deepak Bansal, my father's friend and a shareholder, comes up to greet us, it seems almost natural to introduce Samiksha as my wife. As if I've had years of practice of having her on my arm, and that rattles me more than anything.
Both of us get sucked into greeting guests who congratulate us on the anniversary, but the real curiosity lies beneath the surface. The guests smile, shake our hands, and offer their well wishes, but I can see it in their eyes—the intrigue, the doubt, the speculation. They want to know if the rumors are true, if I am a man capable of murder.
Samiksha plays her part perfectly, poised and graceful, engaging in conversation with a calm that only I know hides her true thoughts. Every once in a while, her fingers brush my arm or her gaze lingers a second longer than necessary, subtle signs that she's here not just as a trophy, but as my partner. It's almost unsettling how easily she's taken on this role.
Sometime in between guests, Samiksha and I get separated. She's currently laughing with a large group of women, which includes, but is not exclusive to, her closest friends. I have just excused myself from a conversation with Ashish Kaur when Devansh and Abhimanyu approach with glasses in hand, their expressions a mix of amusement and curiosity. They flank me casually, though I can tell this isn't just a social visit. Devansh hands me a glass of bourbon before raising an eyebrow, swirling the amber liquid in his glass.
