Location: Mumbai, India
"Hello, Guardian of the West Wing-Martin. Water, please," Ivikaa said sweetly, pointing at the jug on the table like she was placing an order in a five-star restaurant.
Rudra jumped in gently, "Iva, we all have our personal butlers. If you want, we can assign someone for you. Martin and Maria are exclusively for Adwait."
Before she could reply with her usual sass, Martin-stoic, expressionless-poured water into a glass and placed it before her without hesitation.
If Ivikaa was surprised, Rudra was stunned.
"Martin, pour one for me too," Rudra commanded, switching to his usual authoritative tone.
But Martin didn't so much as blink. Instead, he turned slightly and called out, calm as a breeze, "Ravi, your master needs you."
Then he walked back to his station like nothing had happened.
Ivikaa hid her smirk behind the rim of her glass. One thing was clear:
Everything in this house screamed Agnivanshi-except the West Wing, Martin, and Maria.
Also: Rudra could probably issue orders to the Prime Minister and get results, but even he couldn't budge Martin.
And now that Martin had switched his tone with her, the game was officially on.
Her best guess? Adwait had quietly told him not to be rude to her anymore.
Her response? Vengeance. Sweet, playful, and overdue.
"Martin, yesterday you forgot to add salt in the kheer," she said with a faux frown.
"I am sorr-" he began reflexively, then paused, catching her tone a beat too late.
That classic Martin glare was back, full force. She'd baited him-and won.
Revenge was a dish best served cold. Or in her case, sweet, with cardamom and saffron.
"This woman..." Martin muttered under his breath as he turned and left. "Is she the devil's favorite creation or just her reincarnation?"
Even he wasn't sure anymore.
"Kheer?" Rudra asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Nothing," Ivikaa said innocently.
Before she could come up with a new mission, Martin disappeared into the kitchen for safety.
Later that day, they arrived at Agnivanshi Fashions, headed to the main storeroom.
Rudra gestured grandly. "So here's your perfect silk fabric."
Ivikaa gave a slow nod, scanning the shelves like she was inspecting soldiers at a parade. Then, from her oversized leather tote, she pulled out a file and handed it to him.
"Keep this safe-it has our agreement, inventory records, financials, and oh... the fiscal year 2020-21 report you conveniently forgot."
She smiled that signature I-do-my-research smile, the one that made Rudra want to blame someone else.
"Raghav Chachu might've missed it," he mumbled.
"Classy, Rudra," she muttered under her breath, not even pretending to hide her sarcasm.
Rudra's phone rang and, as he walked away to answer it, Ivikaa casually took the file back and placed it on one of the nearby boxes. Then she did a slow sweep of the room with her eyes-wood, silk, dust, papers.
Perfect.
She reached into her bag, pulled out a lighter, flicked it once... twice... and tossed it backward toward the documents.
The flame caught quickly.
Within seconds, the fire alarm screamed through the building.
Rudra and Maya came rushing back. Rudra looked like he'd seen a ghost. Maya looked between the fire and Ivikaa, confused by her completely calm face.
Meanwhile, Ivikaa just stood there, hands behind her back, looking like a girl admiring fireworks.
The flames danced higher, consuming silk, wood, papers-everything.
Rudra sprang into action, pulling them both away as his team rushed to extinguish the blaze.
"Iva, are you okay?" Maya asked, breathless and anxious.
Ivikaa turned to her with a slow smile-one Maya had come to recognize.
"I'm better now."
Rudra barked orders, managing the mess she left behind, while his staff escorted the women safely home.
Nothing purifies quite like fire. And that fiscal year report? Consider it... cremated.
Once they reached home, Maya kept glancing at Ivikaa, fully expecting her to break down, lash out, or at the very least freak out. But no. Ivikaa simply walked to her room, switched on her laptop, and got back to work as if she hadn't just committed arson before lunch.
Maya finally broke the silence.
"Did I miss something?"
"Nope," Ivikaa replied, eyes on her screen. "Just get me a new lighter."
Maya blinked. That was not the answer she was expecting.
Suspicious now, she went to Ivikaa's signature brown leather tote, dug through it until she hit paydirt-or rather, missed it. Cigarette packets? Check. Lip balm? Check. Designer pen? Check. Lighter?
Gone.
Credit: Ivikaa Viren Ambani.
"Iva..." Maya's voice turned half-accusation, half-awe. "You did it."
Ivikaa didn't look up. "Ask Rudra to work on the agreement again. I want every document-contract, report, inventory. Every damn thing rebuilt from scratch. Also, ask him to re-order the same fabric."
Her lips curled into a half-smile-twisted, triumphant, terrifying.
"He can afford the loss. It won't dent his finances," she added, tone icy. "But I want him to feel the inconvenience."
Maya gaped. "Aah. And here I was thinking your lover boy got spared for the stunt he pulled."
Ivikaa finally looked up, her expression unreadable.
"No one gets spared," she said softly. "Nobody."
Maya folded her arms, eyes narrowing as she leaned against the wall.
"If you're planning to move forward with him... then why this?"
Ivikaa stilled for a second, her fingers hovering above the keyboard.
She looked up, gaze steady, voice calm-too calm.
"Because trust without testing is a luxury I can't afford."
Maya exhaled sharply. "So this was a test?"
"No," Ivikaa said, closing her laptop with a soft click. "This was a warning."
She stood, smoothed her dress, and walked past Maya with an air of finality.
"Rudra gambled with my brand. He played dirty. That was his move."
She stopped at the door, turning slightly with a smirk.
"Now he knows I'm not just some Parisian designer with perfect hair and a temper. I'm a storm with a lighter... and a memory."
"But I still don't understand why you came back to Mumbai?" Maya asked as she blindly followed her through the corridor, still unsure why they hadn't flown back to Paris.
Ivikaa didn't pause this time. She kept walking, her heels echoing softly against the marble.
"Some unfinished business with a man who plays the flute and hides behind a name that isn't his."
Maya blinked, trying to catch up. "Adwait?"
Ivikaa smirked. "Maybe. Or maybe with the version of me who let people walk all over her and smiled through sabotage."
Maya narrowed her eyes. "So... closure?"
Ivikaa finally stopped, turned to Maya, her expression sharp and unshakably calm.
"No. Clarity."
"Clarity about what?", Maya asked, arms crossed, eyes narrowing.
Ivikaa paused.
"A few things." Her voice was quiet. "First, I'm drawn to him. Which is... irritating. And terrifying. And also-exciting."
Maya blinked. "What? For a 10th fail?" Her tone was incredulous-too sharp, too fast.
Ivikaa's gaze snapped to her. The subtle sting of judgement stung more because it came from Maya.
"Sorry, I mean..." Maya fumbled, "It's just not possible, Iva. You and him-it's not possible."
She walked toward her, trying to reason. "You're the daughter of the Education Minister-the same man whose reforms have lifted the national literacy rate! What are you going to say? 'Papa, meet my 10th fail boyfriend?'"
Ivikaa said nothing. Her silence was louder than protest.
Maya continued, unable to stop. "And forget your father. Your brothers-both Oxford grads, Iva! Virya literally gave a TED Talk on educational equity and Vayu built an entire AI model for underprivileged schooling!"
Still no reaction from Iva.
"Okay, okay. Let's pretend for a moment we remove your whole family from the picture." Maya held up a finger. "Let's just look at you. You're Ivikaa Ambani-Global fashion mogul. You've headlined Vogue, Harper's, TIME-you've addressed at UN Youth Forum, been awarded Woman of the Year twice. You've practically got Wikipages in five languages."
She pulled out her tablet and flipped it around-photos of Ivikaa at Davos, Milan, New York. Headlines. Interviews. Gala appearances.
"And he? He doesn't even exist in the public record. Even his family denies his existence. For the world, he's a ghost. But you?" She pointed to the screen, voice rising. "You dominate the world."
"I thought you were here for Rudra," Maya said, her voice laced with both disbelief and concern.
"Beauty and the Beast works, Iva... but Beauty and the Ghost? That's not even a fairytale. That's a disappearing act."
Ivikaa didn't respond. Her jaw tightened slightly.
"I'm sorry if I overstepped," Maya added, softer now. "But you always admired your mother's love for your father. She fell for a man who existed-who had an identity. Your whole life, you've fought for yours. 'Iva Fashion House' isn't just a label, it's you. Your blood, your spine, your rebellion. You could've stayed in India, lived easy under your family's legacy. But you didn't. You chose the hard road-Paris, loneliness, and self-made glory."
She exhaled sharply. "And Adwait? What about him? He just... eats and sleeps. Is that it?"
"He cares for me," Ivikaa said, barely above a whisper.
"Then hire a goddamn caretaker, Iva." Maya's voice cracked, louder than she intended. And then, silence. A pause thick with regret.
"I'm sorry," she added quickly, trying to reel it in. "But this-this won't just sabotage your image, Iva. It could hurt your entire family. You're an Ambani. The Agnivanshis-they match you. Status, intellect, legacy. But him?" She lowered her voice now, more desperate than harsh.
"Just... think about it. Please."
Ivikaa didn't flinch. Her eyes were clear, cold, unblinking
"Leave."
Maya stepped back, her breath caught in her throat.
"I meant-leave for Paris, Maya."
Her voice had steel now.
"But Iva," Maya protested, stunned. "I'm your shadow. I've always been. Don't ask me to leave. I'm sorry. I just-"
"Let me correct you on a few things," Ivikaa interrupted, eyes narrowing. Her voice had returned to its steady, commanding tone.
"First, I do not feel anything for Rudra. You're right, on paper-we're perfect. Same league. Same ambition. The 'ideal' match. We'd make an Instagram-approved couple, no doubt. But you know what? My life isn't a damn reel. Just because we fit on a grid doesn't mean we belong in reality."
She stepped closer.
"And Adwait -" Her lips curled slightly.
Before she could continue, footsteps interrupted the air.
Divya stepped closer just as Maya was about to leave, her expression serious.
"I heard about the fire at Agnivanshi Fashions. Is everything under control?" she asked, genuine concern softening her sharp features.
Ivikaa barely looked up.
"Collateral damage. It happens."
She adjusted the stack of papers on the table casually.
"Rudra was there to take care of everything. Like always."
Divya's eyes lingered on her a moment too long. A subtle glint passed through them. She nodded once, tight-lipped.
"Good," she said and turned. Maya followed suit.
"I'll go check in with Rudra about some logistics," Maya muttered, avoiding Iva's gaze.
Without another word, both women exited the room.
Ivikaa turned, intending to go to her room-but then remembered.
Her purpose.
She pivoted sharply and walked toward the west wing. The moment she approached the threshold, a familiar figure stood there. Martin.
Her gloomy mood instantly lifted. He was about to stop her-his usual protocol-but paused. For reasons only he knew, he stepped aside.
Ivikaa offered him a slow, victorious smile, the kind that said checkmate.
She tossed him a lazy wink, then strutted to the nearest sofa, plopped down, and casually propped her legs on the center table.
"I want to meet Adwait," she said coolly, like she was ordering coffee.
Martin walked over in his usual, measured steps. He held out a notepad and a pen.
"Please write your name and the purpose of the meeting. I will deliver it to him and get back to you."
She gave him a look.
"Seriously? So he's really living that caveman lifestyle? No phone, no texts? Smoke signals, maybe?"
Martin, ever the stoic, didn't reply.
With a slight eye roll, she scribbled
> Name: Iva
> Purpose of Meeting: Veer Agnivanshi
She tore off the note and handed it to him. He took it without a word and disappeared upstairs.
Just as she stood to leave, she noticed someone descending the stairs quickly.
Raha.
The moment their eyes met, Raha froze like she'd seen a ghost. Her eyes widened, guilt written all over her face.
"What are you doing here?" Iva asked, brows raised. "West wing is off-limits for you too, isn't it?"
"Let's not do this here," Raha whispered frantically and grabbed Iva's hand. The two of them tiptoed like co-conspirators to Raha's room, and the moment the door shut, Raha exhaled dramatically, collapsing onto the bed.
"Please don't tell anyone I went to meet Adwait bhaiya," she said, folding her hands dramatically. "Like please, I will owe you for life."
Ivikaa crossed her arms, smirking.
"Ohh... interesting. So even the baby Agnivanshi sneaks into the forbidden forest." She leaned in. "Why'd you go, though? If Devaki aunty finds out... well, let's just say it won't end in a family group hug."
"Okay okay I'll tell you!" Raha sat up, hands waving. "So basically-it's like this thing. Adwait bhaiya and I go for a bike ride after the first rain in Mumbai every year. Like a tradition, a whole vibe. And today morning, it rained a little. I mean, more like a drizzle, but whatever, technicalities. So I asked him if we could go tonight, but he was like, 'It doesn't count.' So I went upstairs to convince him. You know. Sister magic."
"Did he agree?" Iva asked, half-curious, half-amused.
Raha beamed.
"Duh. He can never say no to me." She pulled her invisible collar and smirked. "Slay mode activated."
Ivikaa leaned back, her tone mock-serious.
"So you're actually going for a secret bike ride tonight?"
Raha's expression dropped in panic.
"Oh my God, please don't tell Badi Maa. Or anyone. If Rudra bhaiya finds out, I'm officially dead. Like-funeral, slow music, white sarees-done."
Iva paused dramatically, then said in a measured tone:
"On one condition."
"Whatever it is, done. Sold. I'm yours. Just don't snitch." Raha said, her tone rapid-fire.
"You want my closet? Take it. You want my Netflix password? It's yours. Just don't drop this bomb on the fam."
Iva chuckled.
This was getting fun.
Later, at 1:00 AM...
Raha was already dressed-black hoodie, denim shorts, sneakers-her signature stealth mode. She tiptoed down to the basement like a pro cat burglar.
Trailing behind her, not-so-stealthily, was Ivikaa-her condition for silence fulfilled.
When they reached the basement, the soft hum of a bike engine idling greeted them. Adwait was already there, leaning casually against his bike, arms crossed. His brows lifted slightly when he saw Iva with Raha.
Iva's smirk said it all: Busted. This secret is mine now.
Raha threw him an apologetic puppy-eyed glance.
"She really wanted to come with us," she said with a nervous giggle, then added with exaggerated innocence,
"And technically, bhaiya, she's not an Agnivanshi... so I didn't break the rule."
Iva raised her brows like she was in court and winning the case.
"Oh yeah, Raha, by the way... minor detail- I don't know how to ride a bike."
She shot a playful look at Adwait, who blinked, caught off-guard.
Raha turned to her brother like she was five again asking for a unicorn.
"Bhaiya pleaseeee," she begged with her best I'm-your-little-sister expression.
Adwait sighed heavily like this wasn't the first time he was being guilt-tripped into madness.
"Aakhri baar, Raha," he warned, tossing the keys of her bike at her.
She caught them mid-air with a grin and mounted her bike like a rebel queen.
"She promised to keep our secret safe. She swore on her Ambani Empire, bhaiya. Trust me!"
Ivikaa chuckled at that.
Adwait muttered something under his breath and climbed onto his own bike. He put on his helmet and gestured for Raha to do the same.
Once helmets were on, Raha gave a little nod and revved her engine in excitement.
Iva, still standing, looked undecided.
Adwait glanced at her through the side mirror.
"Iva, sit. Bhaiya's a fantastic rider. Trust him!" Raha yelled, her voice echoing off the concrete.
Ivikaa raised an eyebrow, then walked over and placed her hand on Adwait's shoulder before sliding onto the seat behind him. He accelerated slightly.
"Helmet?" he asked without turning.
"Nope," she replied flatly.
Adwait shook his head but didn't argue. Raha was already moving ahead, turning it into an unofficial race.
The bike rumbled to life, and Adwait took off-smooth, fast, steady. Iva put her head gently on his back, the night wind tangling through her hair, rain now a soft mist around them. The roads stretched out endlessly, and with every beat of the bike's rhythm, her lips curled into a sly smile.
Burn a warehouse, steal a midnight ride, and piss off two Agnivanshis in one day-honestly, I deserve a medal. Or at least a decent espresso.
✧ ✦ ✧
Author's Note:
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