𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐎𝐁𝐒𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 |18+|

𝟐𝟏

[Please vote and comment for the next update. We are getting closer to their wedding. damn. Ambani uncle will be shocked]

Having Feelings.

The word 'feelings' was novel to Eshaan. He had long ago buried all of his sentiments. It was pointless to have emotions when all that mattered was the profits.

It was a normal morning, but not for Eshaan. His mind was preoccupied with all that had transpired in the months since he arrived in India. Sleep was long gone from his system.

It was difficult for him to understand his own feelings. On one hand, he hoped for the chance to immerse himself in the warmth of love. However, the love hypothesis was equally erroneous for him. What if love begins to wane when the other person discovers the truth about them? What if he gives in, but then all of the affection vanishes? He will be left alone in his cold, dark home.

Being Alone.

It brings comfort to those who desire it. However, it does not bring consolation to those who have been living alone. The pin-drop silence stung his skin. He used to sit in a corner of the room, scrutinizing everything he had except the comfort of warmth. At times, the silence was so suffocating that he wanted to yell and smash everything apart.

But, he eventually accepted it. After all, he wanted to be the finest, wealthiest, and the most powerful businessman. He understood that he wasn't meant to be loved. Even the entire press and media saw him as the wealthy, apathetic heir of Shekhawat Industries.

"Did you find out who is funding Morozov?" Eshaan sat in his dark office space, which was only known to a handful of people. The faint light of the lamp fell on his exquisite mahogany table with hundreds of pages sprawled haphazardly on the wooden surface. Eshaan rolled his shirt sleeves and pressed his cigar on the ashtray while speaking on the phone.

"Sir, we're on it. The identity is unclear, but the team is working to uncover it."

His hawk eyes were fixed on the large screen, which displayed various live CCTV footage. Eshaan shifted forward in his chair, his face became evident under the faint light, and the smoke from his cigar flowed in the air. The black eyes beneath his glasses moved from left to right as he examined the footage. He massaged his smooth jawline, analyzing each action. The man was on a mission.