The Malhotra headquarters was a tower of silver and shadow. Sia walked through the lobby, the clicking of her heels against the marble echoing like a countdown. Every employee she passed straightened their posture. They didn't see a seventeen-year-old; they saw the woman who had finished her Master's while they were still learning the corporate hierarchy.
Sia reached the top floor—the "Sanctum." This was where her Maternal Grandfather (Nana-ji), Ishwar Malhotra, held court.
"The Singh legacy is in good hands with Aryan," Ishwar said, looking out at the city. "Your brother has the temperament for the Paternal side. But this..." he gestured to the sprawling map of the Malhotra shipping routes, "this requires a surgeon's precision. It requires you, Sia."
"Aryan and I have already discussed the synergy, Nana-ji," Sia said, her black high ponytail perfectly still as she leaned over the map. "When I take over the Malhotra Group on my eighteenth, and he takes over the Singh side, we won't just be two companies. We'll be a monopoly."
The Jealous Guard
The door opened, and Mehak walked in, followed by her mother, Aunt Mansi. While Mansi was a kind woman, she was blinded by her daughter's ambition.
"Papa," Mansi said softly to Ishwar. "Mehak has been working on a proposal for the new luxury retail wing. She's twenty-one now, surely she deserves a seat at the table alongside Sia?"
Mehak stood tall, her eyes darting to Sia with a flicker of triumph. "I've spent the last month studying the European markets, Grandfather. I believe I have a better grasp of the 'luxury' aspect than someone who spends all her time in a dark room with a copper disc."
Sia didn't look up from her data. She reached for a piece of Rasmalai from the small bowl on the desk, the saffron cream a sharp contrast to the cold glass of the office.
"The luxury retail wing," Sia murmured, finally looking at Mehak. Her baby-innocent face was calm, but her eyes were like scanners. "Is that the same wing that showed a four percent dip in projected revenue this morning because of the new import taxes?"
Mehak froze. "Taxes are... fluctuating. My proposal accounts for that."
"It doesn't," Sia said, tapping her copper disc. A holographic chart projected into the air. "You calculated your margins based on last year's trade agreement. If Nana-ji follows your 'European grasp,' the Malhotra Group loses sixty crores in the first quarter."
The silence in the room was deafening. Aunt Mansi looked down, embarrassed for her daughter. Ishwar simply sighed.
"Mehak," Ishwar said, his voice heavy. "Sia isn't just lucky. She's prepared. Go back to the marketing department. Learn how the world works before you try to run it."
The Confidant's Warning
As Sia left the office, Rohan was waiting by the elevators. He wasn't in his usual party attire; he looked worried.
"Sia-paa, we need to talk," he said, pulling her into a quiet corridor. "I was at the club last night. I overheard Mehak's father—your Uncle—talking to some... let's just say 'aggressive' investors."
Sia tilted her head. "Uncle Sameer is looking for a way to bypass Nana-ji's will. I already know that."
"It's more than that," Rohan whispered. "They're not just looking at the money. They're looking at you. They think if they can trigger a 'mental health' clause in the succession act—claiming you're too young and under too much pressure—they can appoint a legal guardian to run the empire for you. And guess who that guardian would be?"
Sia's pale, porcelain skin seemed to turn even colder. A "Legal Guardian" would mean her Master's degree, her skills, and her Nana-ji's wishes wouldn't matter. She would be a figurehead while Mehak and her father gutted the company.
"They want to use my age as a weapon," Sia said, her voice a low, dangerous hum.
"Exactly," Rohan said. "They're planning to stage a 'breakdown' at your eighteenth birthday gala. They want to humiliate you in front of the press so the board has no choice but to step in."
Sia reached out and squeezed Rohan's hand. He was the only person who saw the girl behind the genius. "Thank you, Rohan. You've given me exactly what I needed."
"And what's that?"
Sia adjusted her peach blazer, her high ponytail snapping into place.
"A reason to stop being 'polite' to my maternal relatives. If they want to play with the law, I'll show them that I didn't just study business—I studied the art of the endgame."
This adds a dark, manipulative layer to the story. Mehak isn't just acting out of jealousy; she is being fueled by someone who wants to use her as a puppet to control the Malhotra billions.
Let's introduce Vikrant, a smooth-talking, ambitious strategist from a rival corporate house, who has crawled into Mehak's heart only to use her as a weapon against Sia.