Maya’s mind reeled. How could this be? Ayansh is Pratham’s son, right? But then, how on earth could his DNA match Vidyut’s?
The troubled expressions shared by Maya and Sumit cast a shadow over the old man’s already stony face, hardening it further. Despite his advanced age, his senses were sharp as ever—he had overheard every word of their conversation.
This man was no ordinary elder. Known simply as “Dada,” he was a name whispered in both reverence and fear. He ruled the underworld and black market alike, his influence spanning from the darkest streets to the most elite circles. From politicians to celebrities, everyone knew to respect Dada’s name.
But Maya saw more than the notorious kingpin in him. To her, Dada was family—a mentor and a pillar of strength. After the tragic death of her mother, Sneha, Maya had spent six formidable years under his care. It was he who had shaped her, instilling within her a resilience and ruthlessness that most couldn’t fathom. While the Arya family saw Maya as only a link to their lineage, Dada understood the warrior within her.
Yes, Maya was an Arya. But she was also something else—a different kind of royalty. Her maternal grandfather was Dada himself, and beyond her Arya blood, she bore the title of Maya Chauhan, a merciless mafia princess.
Even after overhearing her conversation with Sumit, Dada didn’t question Maya about Vidyut. With a fierce grip on his cane, he summoned her with a commanding voice, “Maya!”
Startled from her thoughts, Maya composed herself and walked over to him, sitting by his side. He looked at her with the gravity of a king and spoke, his voice edged with steel. “Fourteen years, Maya. Fourteen years, and you’ve stained your hands enough. It’s time to return to us. We allowed you this time out of respect for your determination, but what have you truly achieved? You’ve only sunk deeper into the filth of this world.”
Maya bit her lip, her gaze downcast. She knew he was right. When she was ten, she had left to join the Arya family, chasing a dream she believed her father, Rudra, had abandoned her and her mother for. Yet in fourteen years, that dream—the dream emperor—had slipped further from her grasp, and she had drifted farther from the Arya family.
Taking a deep breath, Maya knelt at Dada’s feet, remorse in her voice. “Dada, please. Give me two more months. Just two months, and I’ll have the dream emperor in my hands. If I fail, I promise—I’ll return as you wish.”
Dada, caught between his unyielding authority and his affection for his only granddaughter, sighed. He weighed her words carefully before finally relenting. “Fine. Two months. But no more than that.”
A faint smile appeared on Maya’s face. “Thank you, Dada.”
Her smile softened the hardened lines on his face, and he motioned for her to sit beside him again. “Maya,” he said, with a gentle firmness, “your place isn’t at my feet. You belong here—beside me.”
Settling next to him, Maya’s eyes softened, but the warmth in their conversation was soon broken.
“Maya, what did you do with Rohit?” he asked.
Her voice turned icy. “What he deserved. I warned him to stay away, but he didn’t listen. Now he’s paying for it.”
Dada’s face grew thoughtful. “Maya, why do you drive away those who care for you?”
“Please, Dada. I don’t want to talk about Mr. Rohit. Don’t bring up his name again.” She rose from her seat, her expression guarded. “I have to go now, Dada. Rest for a while. I’ll be back soon.”
With a nod, Dada gestured for Raghu, his trusted aide, to prepare the car. He turned to Maya one last time, his voice laced with a rare softness. “Take care of yourself, Maya. And stay away from Vidyut Singhania. Whether friend or foe, he’s a dangerous man.”
Maya nodded, her gaze steady. “I understand, Dada. Take care.”
As she left the villa, the scene shifted elsewhere.
Meanwhile…
In the Arya mansion’s grand living room, Vidyut sat regally, exuding an air of authority. The sharp planes of his face remained expressionless as he reclined, legs crossed, cigar in hand. The room seemed to grow colder with each passing second in his presence.
Beside him stood Natasha and Zara, both tense, feeling as if the air had thickened with his commanding presence. Across the room, Maya’s grandfather held a DNA report, his face frozen in shock.
Eyes narrowed, Vidyut flicked his gaze to his lawyer, who took the hint and stepped forward. Addressing Maya’s grandfather with formal professionalism, the lawyer declared, “Mr. Arya, with this report in hand, my client is legally entitled to seek custody of his son. If you oppose it, we’ll settle this in court.”
The weight of the words sank in. A mix of disbelief and anger flashed across Maya’s grandfather’s face. Glancing at the DNA report again, he couldn’t ignore what he was seeing: Ayansh was linked to Vidyut, not Pratham. Could Vidyut possibly be Pratham? The thought seemed absurd, and yet…
After a moment’s hesitation, the old man looked up, his gaze piercing as he met Vidyut’s unyielding stare. “Before I make any decision, I want independent verification of this report’s authenticity.”
Vidyut’s gaze remained as frosty as ever, his lips curling into a faint, taunting smile. “Do whatever you need,” he replied coolly, taking another slow drag from his cigar. “But make it fast. I don’t have time for your family drama.”
Maya’s grandfather’s jaw clenched, fury flashing briefly in his eyes. Summoning the family doctor, he ordered immediate action.
_______________________________________
What will happen next?
To know…
To be continued…
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The devil's Enigmatic bride
Mystery / ThrillerVidyut Singhania is a name that strikes fear across the globe. Known as a ruthless devil, his mere presence sends shivers down spines, including those of his own family. But after a catastrophic car accident leaves him in a coma, everything changes...
