AUTHOR POV
The morning sun hadn’t fully risen yet, but the Rathore Mansion was already awake. The mansion stood like a symbol of power—white marble floors reflecting chandeliers, tall antique pillars supporting the ceiling, royal blue curtains swaying in the breeze. The walls were covered with oil portraits of ancestors who once ruled kingdoms and business empires.
It wasn’t just a home.
It was an empire.
At five sharp, an alarm echoed through the luxurious master bedroom. The man lying on the massive king-size bed opened his eyes instantly, not wasting a second. Rudraksha Singh Rathore never overslept. Never delayed. Never failed.
Discipline wasn’t learned. It was engraved in him.
He took a cold bath and headed straight into the private gym—a gym bigger than average city apartments, filled with machines, mirrors, and trophies. His muscles flexed as he lifted weights, body glistening with sweat. Years of control had built this physique—a strong jawline, sharp cheekbones, stormy eyes, and a towering height.
Every movement screamed dominance.
He dressed in a black tailored suit. Crisp lines, expensive fabric, perfect fit. His presence alone filled every room before he even stepped inside.
As he walked toward the dining hall, the echo of his footsteps on the marble floor created an unspoken command.
The hall was full of laughter and noise—his siblings teasing each other, servants moving around, clinking cutlery. But the moment he entered, the noise stopped. Words hung mid-air.
The Rathores might love each other.
But when the eldest heir entered, everyone listened.
That was Rudraksha Singh Rathore.
The one who never bowed his head to anyone.
RUDRAKSHA POV
Silence greeted me the second I stepped inside. Fear? Maybe. Respect? Definitely.
I don’t know how to show love. I never learned how. Cold, logical, silent—that’s how men like me survive. When you’re destined to rule, you don’t get the luxury of emotions. Weakness is a sin in my world.
I greeted my grandparents, Papa, and Chacha sa.
Maa sa and Chachi sa came out of the kitchen as always, laughing about something.
“Good morning, Rudraksha,” both of them said together, smiling.
“Good morning, Maa sa. Good morning, Chachi sa,” I replied.
We had just started breakfast when Baba sa spoke,
“Rudraksha, aaj hame orphanage jaana hai. Jaha hum donation dene jaate hain. Aur iss baar hum chahte hain tum bhi chalo.”
“Main wahan kya karunga?” I asked flatly. “Pehle toh kabhi nahi kaha.”
Maa sa laughed, “Jaao bhi Rudraksha. Hamesha kaam mein lage rehte ho. Thoda bahar jaoge, bachchon se miloge… shayad tumhe bhi kuch mehsoos ho.”
Shaurya leaned close to Nitika and whispered just loud enough, “Bhai ko feeling na aa jaaye… ya phir bachchon ko dekh ke chali na jaaye.”
Everyone burst out laughing. I only gave him one deadly glare.
“Shaurya, Mathur wali file mujhe 12 baje tak mere table pe chahiye.”
“Maar gaya,” he muttered.
I turned to Baba sa.
“Thik hai. Breakfast ke baad chalte hain.”
I don’t know why, but I had this strange feeling. Something was shifting. Something was coming.
And this sudden orphanage visit…
it didn’t seem ordinary.
It felt like the beginning of a storm.
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