A year passed.
Time did not heal. It hardened.
Aansi learned the rhythms of Voss International — the silence of corridors, the weight of hierarchy, the invisible rules no one spoke aloud. She kept her head down, worked precisely, and stayed invisible when necessary.
But outside the office walls, her life was collapsing.
It began with fatigue.
Her mother had complained of weakness for months — small aches, dizziness, breathlessness that came and went like passing weather. They ignored it at first. Life did not pause for minor discomforts.
Then came the diagnosis.
A disease aggressive enough to demand urgency.
Treatment complicated.
Medication relentless.
Hospital visits constant.
Savings evaporated within weeks.
Jewelry was sold. Loans were taken. Relatives offered sympathy more readily than assistance.
The number arrived last.
Thirty lakhs.
Aansi stared at the estimate sheet in numb silence.
It might as well have been thirty crores.
Her mother slept in the hospital bed, her breathing shallow but steady. Tubes ran across white sheets. Machines hummed softly, indifferent to human panic.
Aansi stepped out into the corridor and leaned against the wall.
She had two days before the next treatment cycle.
Two days before delay became danger.
Two days before fear turned into loss.
There was only one place left to go.
Voss International Headquarters
The building looked the same as always.
Efficient. Polished. Unfeeling.
Her palms were cold as she stood outside the executive office door.
She knocked.
A pause.
"Enter."
Leonid Voss did not look up immediately when she stepped inside. He continued signing documents with slow precision, as though time itself adjusted to his pace.
Only after finishing the page did he set the pen down and lift his gaze.
"Speak."
Her throat tightened.
"Sir… I need help."
Silence settled between them, dense and deliberate.
He watched her without interruption.
"My mother is critically ill. The treatment is ongoing, but…" Her fingers tightened around the edge of the file she held. "I need financial assistance. I will repay every rupee. Even if it takes years."
No change in his expression.
"How much?"
"Thirty lakhs."
The number lingered in the air.
Leonid leaned back in his chair, studying her as though reassessing a variable he had overlooked.
Then, slowly — almost thoughtfully — the corner of his mouth lifted.
Not a smile.
A decision.
"That can be arranged," he said.
Relief hit her so suddenly she nearly swayed.
"Thank you, sir—"
"One night."
The words did not rise. They fell.
Soft. Precise. Final.
Her relief shattered.
Her fingers loosened around the file.
"I'm sorry… what?"
"One night," he repeated, voice calm, almost bored. "And you will receive whatever amount you require."
The room seemed to shrink.
Her heart pounded so loudly she could hear it in her ears.
"Sir… please… don't do this to me."
Her voice trembled despite her effort to steady it.
"I am not—"
"I did not ask for a biography," he said coolly.
Her eyes burned.
Fear mixed with humiliation, with helplessness, with a rising panic she could not control.
"Sir, please… my mother—"
He studied her a moment longer.
Then he spoke again.
"Marry me."
The words struck harder than the first.
Her breath stopped.
"What?"
His gaze did not waver.
"You object to the first option. This one offers permanence. Security. Protection. Medical expenses resolved."
Her pulse thundered.
"This is insane."
"Is it?"
She stepped back, shaking her head.
"No. No, sir. Never. I can't marry you. Why are you doing this to me?"
Leonid's expression remained unchanged — detached, almost analytical.
"You have two days," he said. "After that, this discussion will not repeat itself."
He reached for another file.
The conversation was over.
"Leave."
Outside the Office
The door closed behind her.
The corridor felt colder than before.
Her legs moved on instinct, carrying her away from the executive floor, past glass walls and silent employees who had no idea her world had just tilted off its axis.
Marry him?
It was impossible.
Unthinkable.
Suffocating.
She stepped into the elevator and pressed the ground floor button, staring at her reflection in the mirrored panel.
Her eyes looked unfamiliar.
"No," she whispered to herself. "No way."
She would find another way.
She had to.
Because marrying Leonid Voss was not salvation.
It was surrender.
And Aansi had not survived this long to surrender.