I stared at the gown draped over the edge of my bed, its soft fabric catching the light from the chandelier above. The gown was perfect-bold, elegant, and commanding. Exactly how I needed to be tonight.
I sat at my vanity, the soft glow of the lights reflecting off the silver details of the gown. My stylist, Meera, was already working on my hair. She began smoothing it into a low, polished bun that sat neatly at the nape of my neck.
"Bold lip or soft nude?" she asked, holding up two lipstick shades.
"soft nude," I said without hesitation.
By the time she finished, my reflection was everything I wanted it to be-sleek, powerful, untouchable. My smoky eyes were sharp, my lips painted a soft nudish crimson, and my skin glowed with the perfect balance of highlighter and blush. i looked beautiful.
As I walked out of my room, my phone buzzed with a text from Rhea.
"Car is ready. We're set for the press lineup at 8:45."
I smiled faintly, picking up my silver clutch and walking toward the door. Tonight wasn't just about the gala-it was about reminding the world who Avni Rajput was. And as I stepped into the car, I couldn't shake the feeling that tonight wasn't going to be ordinary.
The moment the car came to a halt, the faint hum of chatter from the crowd outside became louder. Through the tinted windows, I could already see the flashes of cameras firing relentlessly. My fingers lightly tapped against the cool metal of my clutch as I took a deep breath. This wasn't my first gala, and it wouldn't be my last. But tonight felt different.
The door opened, and I stepped out and buzz of voices grew sharper. As I walked toward the entrance, I nodded at a few familiar faces-industry leaders, investors, and competitors, all dressed to impress. I knew some of them respected me, while others pretended to. It didn't matter. The grand doors of the ballroom swung open as I stepped inside.
For a moment, I stood still, my gaze swept over the crowd, observing faces like chess pieces on a board. Rhea leaned in slightly, speaking just above a whisper. "Your table is ready. "Good," I said with a faint smile.
And then, I saw him.
It was subtle at first-a tall figure standing near the bar, his back partially turned to me. There was something in the way he held himself, an air of control that was impossible to miss.
Aditya Singhania.
The name echoed in my mind like a challenge, but I didn't let it show on my face. Instead, I lifted my chin and continued walking. If tonight was a game, I was more than ready to play.
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