The next week, Shivansh began moving like a chess player in the middle of an intricate match—quiet, deliberate, unpredictable.
He made subtle adjustments to the Kothari Group's investment portfolio, re-routing profitable deals away from Vikrant's allies and into projects loyal to Rohini. It was surgical work—so precise that, for now, no one could prove his hand in it.
Rohini watched him during late nights in the study, his brow furrowed as he worked, sleeves rolled up. She had expected him to be competent—after all, Shivansh Mehra was a finance prodigy—but she hadn't expected this. The focus. The precision. The way he anticipated moves before they even happened.
It was almost unsettling how much she trusted him.
But trust was a dangerous luxury.
Meanwhile, Kanika was not fading quietly into the background.
She had started appearing at high-society events where Shivansh and Rohini were expected—always in perfect attire, always armed with that knowing smile. The tabloids had already caught a photo of her touching Shivansh's arm at a charity auction, paired with the headline:
"Billionaire's Bride in a Love Triangle?"
Rohini slammed the magazine down on the counter. "She's baiting you. And the press."
"She's baiting you," Shivansh corrected calmly, pouring himself coffee. "And you're letting her."
Rohini's eyes narrowed. "I don't lose focus."
"Good," he said, meeting her gaze. "Because Vikrant just made his first direct move."
That afternoon, Vikrant called an emergency board meeting and announced a surprise merger proposal with a logistics company—one owned by the very man he wanted Rohini to marry. If the deal went through, that man would become an official stakeholder in the Kothari Group, with enough influence to threaten Rohini's position permanently.
The vote was scheduled for two weeks later.
After the meeting, Rohini stood in the corridor with Shivansh, her jaw tight.
"This is it. If we lose this vote, I'm finished."
Shivansh didn't blink. "Then we don't lose."
She looked at him, searching for doubt. There was none.
That night, they worked side by side—mapping alliances, predicting board reactions, calculating every possible play. At some point, Rohini realized the clock read 3 a.m. Her eyes burned, her shoulders ached, and the weight of the day pressed on her like stone.
Shivansh closed the laptop gently and looked at her. "You're exhausted."
"We can't afford to rest," she muttered.
He didn't argue. Instead, he stepped closer—close enough for her to feel the steady warmth of him. She didn't realize how tense she'd been until his arms went around her, pulling her against him in a firm, grounding embrace.
For a moment, she stood frozen. Then something in her cracked, and she let herself lean into him. His hold was strong, not suffocating, and the world outside the penthouse seemed to fade.
"You're not alone in this," he said quietly, his voice low against her hair. "Not anymore."
When he finally let go, the space between them felt charged, heavier than before. Neither of them mentioned it—but both knew something had shifted.
And that was the most dangerous move of all.