A Glimpse of Red

Clash of Crown

The clock struck noon as Riyansh arrived at Rawal Enterprises, his punctuality as sharp as ever. He appreciated his team's swift work in arranging this meeting on such short notice. As he stepped into the sleek, modern lobby, Akhil Rawal, younger brother of Pratham Singh Rawal, greeted him with a warm smile that felt almost too welcoming for someone from the powerful and feared Rawal family.

"Mr. Singhania, a pleasure to have you here. Rana sa is waiting for you in the conference room," Akhil said, his arms open in a gesture of hospitality-something Riyansh didn't expect. His perception of the Rawals had always been of ruthless businessmen, devoid of pleasantries.

"Thank you, Mr. Rawal," Riyansh replied, shaking his hand firmly.

Akhil led Riyansh down a grand hallway toward the conference room. The Rawal family's power echoed through the very walls, as if every stone had been carved with authority. What Riyansh found particularly intriguing was how no one mentioned Pratham Singh Rawal by name, not even his own brother. The reverence for Pratham was palpable, his presence felt even before he was seen.

Outside the conference room stood an elderly man, dressed in traditional Indian attire-a surprising sight in the midst of Paris. With a simple nod from Akhil, they entered the grand room. There, at the head of a long table, stood Pratham Singh Rawal.

Pratham's presence was unlike anything Riyansh had ever encountered. Tall and lean, his every movement was deliberate, calculated. His face, sharply defined with high cheekbones and cold, piercing eyes, gave away nothing. His gaze wasn't merely intense; it dissected, analyzed, as if he saw into the core of every individual he encountered. This was a man who had inherited his power but multiplied it tenfold through sheer will, intelligence, and an unrelenting drive.

Pratham had not always been this way. Those who knew him in his youth spoke of a man who was ambitious, yes, but also approachable, warm even. But the burden of his father's legacy changed him. The Rawal dynasty had been built brick by brick, decision by decision, under the iron fist of Pratham's father, Maharaj Raj Singh Rawal. Under his reign, the empire grew vast, but it was Pratham who took it to unparalleled heights.

Following his father's passing, Pratham had transformed into a visionary leader who navigated the tumultuous waters of business with precision and a cold, calculated approach. His sharpness wasn't just in his appearance; it was in his every move, in the way he handled negotiations, in the way he saw opportunities where others saw roadblocks. He didn't simply run Rawal Enterprises; he engineered its expansion, taking calculated risks that others would shy away from. It was under his leadership that Rawal Productions became synonymous with both luxury and power, their influence stretching far beyond the Indian subcontinent to Europe, the Americas, and beyond.

Pratham was a man who thrived on challenges. He didn't merely inherit his father's empire-he revolutionized it. His father had taught him the importance of power, but Pratham had sharpened it into a weapon, using his intellect and instincts to turn Rawal Enterprises into a global force. He believed in control, in dominance, and his relentless pursuit of success had made him one of the most respected and feared figures in the business world.

There was no warmth in him, no trace of his former self that smiled easily or spoke with kindness. The passing of time had hardened him. Power became his armor, and his empire was the battlefield where he waged his silent wars. Every handshake, every glance was a calculated move. He didn't just command attention; he demanded submission.