If he wanted her to leave, let him fire her. Instead of using such underhanded tactics.
She looked at the contract on the table and straightened.
The next day, she would walk into the lawyer’s office, look Maharaja Bharat Singh Jogra in the eye, and show him she wouldn’t back down.
CHAPTER 9
Yamini stood outside the Jogra law office for a moment longer than necessary, her fingers curled around the strap of her bag, her narrowed gaze fixed on the polished brass nameplate beside the entrance.
It was close to noon, and she was running late for the appointment.
This time it wasn’t because she had overslept. In fact, she had barely slept. She spent the entire night tossing and turning while the same thoughts ran through her mind again and again.
By morning, her anger and determination had only grown further.
Even though she was up and ready on time, she waited several hours before heading out to the lawyer’s office.
She refused to be intimidated.
Not by the cold, arrogant maharaja. Or his team of lawyers.
She knew Bharat Jogra wouldn’t even bother attending the so-called meeting scheduled for the contract signing.
His lawyers would handle everything.
He would stay out of it and simply wait for her to back down.
Yamini’s lips pressed together.
Jerk.
She adjusted her grip on her bag and climbed the steps without hesitation.
Inside, the atmosphere shifted the moment she crossed the threshold, the air cooler and quieter, carrying the subtle scent of polished wood, leather, and freshly brewed coffee.
The reception area opened into a wide corridor lined with dark paneling and discreetly placed artwork, each piece chosen with restraint rather than display.
Yamini took it in for a brief moment, then walked forward without slowing down.
At the reception desk, a woman in a tailored charcoal suit looked up as Yamini approached. Her gaze moved briefly over Yamini’s pink cotton kurta and embroidered bag, the assessment quick but practiced, before settling into a polite, professional smile.
“Good morning,” she said. “Do you have an appointment?”
“Yes,” Yamini replied. “Yamini Dhar. I was asked to come here this morning.”
The receptionist’s fingers paused over the keyboard. She looked up, and her eyes widened slightly before she straightened.
“Please go right through, Miss Dhar,” she said, stepping out from behind the desk and gesturing toward the inner corridor.
Yamini nodded once and walked forward.
Inside, glass-enclosed offices revealed teams working in focused silence, screens filled with documents and data, their conversations low.
She knew this was not a place that handled routine disputes or small clients. It was the kind of place where outcomes were expected to be controlled long before they were signed.
Just as the receptionist turned a corner, Yamini saw them.
Two men in dark suits stood outside a conference room at the far end, their posture alert, their attention sharp even in stillness.
