The illegitimate daughter of a powerful businessman, she was sent to live with her six half-brothers after her father's sudden death.
The boys were born from privilege, pride, and perfectly manicured bloodlines. No one welcomed her. No one cared.
De...
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The air inside the mall was a sharp contrast to the scorching summer sun outside. Polished floors gleamed beneath the designer shoes of shoppers who carried branded bags and heavy attitudes.
Maheer, however, walked with her hands shoved inside her wide-legged trousers, her gait easy, her shoulders straight, and her eyes utterly disinterested.
"This is torture," she murmured, watching Eeshan scrutinize a rack of sherwanis like a man inspecting cattle at auction.
Eeshan whipped around dramatically. "Excuse me, ma'am. This is not just shopping. This is a sacred mission. I am here to make sure I look hotter than the groom."
Maheer gave him a blank stare. "You're wearing neon socks, Eeshan."
"And that's called confidence." He wagged a finger at her and turned back toward a glittering array of waistcoats.
Trailing behind like a silent shadow, Xavier followed Maheer as she was pulled from one store to another.
He maintained a discreet distance, but his presence was always there—steady, quiet, and dangerously alert.
Maheer glanced sideways at a display window showcasing couple jewelry.
"Oho, so you do have a heart," Eeshan chirped, rejoining her. "Buying a gift? I thought you'd just throw them a blank cheque with a bloodstain for drama."
"It's a wedding," Maheer replied flatly, holding up a platinum bracelet pair with minimal design. "People gift things."
"Right. And people also smile. Try it sometime. It won't kill you."
Maheer smirked despite herself and placed the set aside. "That was your one good joke for the day. Don't waste more energy."
They strolled deeper into the women's section, where a soft arrangement of pastel lehengas and sarees lined the walls.
Eeshan wandered off to examine cufflinks while Maheer brushed her fingers across a silk chiffon piece when a familiar, shrill voice sliced through the air like a paper cut.
"Well, look who decided to shop where royalty still walks."
Maheer turned slowly, her face unreadable as she met Malvika's heavily made-up stare. The woman was dressed head to toe in designer labels, but her words dripped venom like it was her trademark accessory.
"I'm surprised you're still allowed in here," Malvika continued sweetly. "This is the empire your father built, you know. Still flourishing. Still admired." She paused. "Too bad the princess lost her crown."
Maheer's jaw clenched, but her expression remained eerily calm.
Malvika offered a smug, brittle smile and pivoted on her heels, disappearing into a sea of mannequins and mirrored walls.
