Story of a Rivalry of two political families, who fighting for rule. One rules over the more than half of the state and other own the power. But between their rivalry the one who is suffering is the daughters of the most richest family of the state...
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(Note: To read this, it's recommend to read the last segment of chapter 24| Promise)
Roop Mahal: Five Years Ago
Nayana stood in front of Aparna, her heart pounding as if it would break free from her chest. Aparna’s gaze was cold and calculating, her demeanor laced with disdain.
“So, you’re the one,” Aparna began, her voice sharp and unkind. “The prostitute who bore my son’s child.”
The cruel words pierced Nayana’s heart, but she stood her ground, refusing to crumble. She straightened her back, her voice steady despite the storm within.
“I’m not here for myself. I’m here for Tara,” Nayana said, meeting Aparna’s icy gaze.
Aparna’s lips curled into a sneer. “And why should I care about her?” she asked, her tone dripping with contempt.
Nayana took a deep breath, summoning every ounce of courage she had. “Because she is your granddaughter. She carries your son’s blood. She’s a part of your family, whether you like it or not.”
Aparna’s stern expression faltered slightly, her rigid stance softening just a fraction. “Fine,” she said after a moment’s pause. “I’ll accept Tara. But on one condition—you must leave her forever. You will have no place in her life.”
The words felt like a knife twisting in Nayana’s heart. Her throat tightened as tears threatened to spill. “Tara will never agree to that,” she whispered, her voice trembling.
“That’s your problem, I don't want her to have anything to do with that brothel. She must leave all the things behind, to be the part of our family” Aparna said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Convince her, or leave her behind. The choice is yours.”
Nayana’s heart ached with the weight of her decision. She wanted to protect Tara from her own painful past, to give her daughter a chance at a better life. With a heavy heart, she nodded. “I’ll convince her,” she said, though she had no idea how to make good on that promise.
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The Day of the Event
Roop Mahal shone brightly, its every corner adorned with dazzling decorations. The mansion was alive with music, laughter, and the chatter of high-society men. It was the grandest night of the year, a lavish event held every five years to showcase young performers to the wealthy elite.
This year, Kamini, the shrewd matron of the mansion, had prepared her most prized jewel: Tara.
But Nayana had other plans. She clung tightly to Tara’s arm, her grip firm as she dragged her daughter up the staircase to the mansion’s top floor. Her heart was racing, but her resolve was unshakable.
