Dhruv had never been one to indulge in luxuries. Growing up in a small apartment with his single mother, he had learned the value of every rupee. So, when he started dating Jasmine, he knew he couldn’t shower her with extravagant gifts, but he made up for it in other ways. He was always there for her—carrying her books, helping her with her projects, surprising her with thoughtful gestures. He had believed that love wasn’t about material things, but about care, loyalty, and attention. Jasmine had assured him she felt the same.

But everything changed that Friday night.

Dhruv sat in his tiny room, staring at the glowing screen of his phone. His fingers hovered over Jasmine’s number, his mind racing. She hadn’t answered any of his calls or texts since the previous night. His heart was pounding, his stomach twisting with unease. Something felt wrong.

He scrolled through his social media feed for the hundredth time, hoping for a sign of her, anything that would explain her absence. That’s when his screen stopped on a photo. It was posted by one of his classmates—a picture from a party that Dhruv didn’t even know had happened. And there, in the background of the picture, was Jasmine.

But she wasn’t alone.

She was standing next to Kartik, the notorious playboy of their class. He had his arm slung lazily around her waist, leaning in close to whisper something in her ear. The sight made Dhruv’s stomach drop. Kartik was everything Dhruv wasn’t—rich, arrogant, and dangerous. Girls flocked to him, not because he treated them well, but because he had money, charm, and a bad-boy aura that made him irresistible to many.

Dhruv’s hands shook as he clicked on the next image in the post. His heart stopped. It was a video. A short clip, barely fifteen seconds, but it felt like a lifetime. In the video, Jasmine was sitting on Kartik’s lap, laughing, while Kartik’s hands moved lower than they should have been. And Jasmine wasn’t stopping him.

His chest tightened painfully, his breath coming in short gasps. It felt like the air had been sucked out of the room.

“No… this can’t be real…” Dhruv muttered to himself, praying it was some misunderstanding. But the more he stared at the video, the more his world started to crumble. All the promises Jasmine had made about love and loyalty now seemed hollow.

He tried calling her again, but as expected, there was no answer.

Later that evening, Dhruv received a message from one of his close friends, Aman. “Bro, I need to tell you something, but don’t freak out,” it read.

Already on edge, Dhruv immediately replied, “What is it?”

Aman hesitated before replying, “I wasn’t going to say anything because I didn’t want to hurt you. But Jasmine and Kartik... they were seen leaving together last night. And bro, it’s not just rumors. There’s more. They’ve been doing online stuff together. You know, stripping. It’s all over the group chats.”

Dhruv stared at his phone, his mind blank. His heartbeat roared in his ears, drowning out everything else. Jasmine, his Jasmine, had spent the night with Kartik. And worse, she had been doing things with him online. Stripping, for an audience, alongside a guy like Kartik. It was like a nightmare that he couldn’t wake up from.

The humiliation hit him like a wave. He had been working so hard to keep their relationship strong, always putting her first, always believing she felt the same way about him. And yet, she had thrown it all away for someone like Kartik.

His phone slipped from his hand, clattering onto the floor. Dhruv collapsed onto his bed, burying his face in his hands. He felt numb, as though his heart had been ripped out of his chest. How could Jasmine betray him like this? He had given her everything he could, everything that mattered—his love, his time, his devotion. And she had thrown it back in his face.

Hours passed, though Dhruv barely noticed. He lay there, unmoving, staring at the ceiling, consumed by a swirl of anger, heartbreak, and disbelief.

It wasn’t until the early hours of the morning that Dhruv finally sat up, rubbing his eyes. His mind had wandered into darker thoughts. Should he confront her? Should he confront Kartik? A part of him wanted to scream, to make them both pay for the pain they had caused. But another part of him, the part that had always been kind and forgiving, couldn’t bring himself to face the situation head-on. Not yet.

As dawn broke through his window, Dhruv’s phone buzzed on the floor. It was an unknown number.

Reluctantly, Dhruv picked it up, barely glancing at the screen before answering. “Hello?”

“Mr. Dhruv Sharma?” a stern, professional voice greeted him.

“Yeah, that’s me,” Dhruv replied, his voice thick with exhaustion.

“This is Mr. Mehta, your late father’s attorney. I’ve been trying to reach you for some time. I know this must be a shock, but your biological father, Mr. Rajiv Singh, recently passed away. You’ve been named in his will. I would like to meet you to discuss the inheritance.”

Dhruv blinked, sitting up straight. “I… I think you have the wrong person,” he stammered.

“There’s no mistake,” Mr. Mehta continued, his tone steady. “I understand this might come as a surprise, but Mr. Singh was your father. You are his sole heir, and there is a significant estate involved. We need to meet at your earliest convenience.”

Dhruv’s head spun. In the span of 24 hours, his life had completely unraveled. His girlfriend had betrayed him in the worst way possible, and now, out of nowhere, he was being told he was the heir to a billionaire.

He stared at his reflection in the mirror, the weight of the moment pressing down on him. He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. One thing was certain—his life would never be the same again.

Would he use this sudden windfall to get revenge on Jasmine and Kartik, or would this be his chance to rewrite his story?

As his mind raced, one thought settled at the forefront: Power changes everything.

Dhruv sat at the large mahogany table in Mr. Mehta’s office, the ticking of the clock on the wall behind him sounding louder with each passing second. His mind was still reeling from the news. He was the heir to a billionaire's fortune—his father’s fortune. A man he had never met, never even knew existed.

“So, I’m really…?” Dhruv began, struggling to find the right words. “I mean, this isn’t a mistake?”

Mr. Mehta, the sharp-suited attorney, gave him a sympathetic smile and nodded. “There’s no mistake, Mr. Sharma. The DNA test, conducted years ago, confirmed your connection to Mr. Rajiv Singh. Your father was very thorough in ensuring that his estate would be transferred to you without complications after his passing.”

Dhruv shifted uncomfortably in his chair. It still didn’t feel real. He wasn’t sure if it ever would. Just yesterday, he was heartbroken, barely able to process Jasmine’s betrayal. And now? Now, he was being told he had inherited not just money, but power—the kind of power that could change everything.

Mr. Mehta handed him a file. “This contains the details of your father’s estate, businesses, properties, and assets. He owned multiple luxury properties, including a mansion in Mumbai, one in London, and another in Dubai. You are now the sole owner.”

Dhruv glanced at the papers, overwhelmed. Mansions? Luxury properties? It was too much to process all at once.

“And then there are his business interests,” Mr. Mehta continued. “Your father had a stake in multiple successful companies, including tech firms, fashion houses, and investment banks. His legacy is vast, Mr. Sharma. You are now one of the wealthiest individuals in the country.”

Dhruv swallowed hard. The weight of the situation pressed down on him. He had never dreamed of this—of becoming rich, of being someone who could change his life with the snap of his fingers. And yet, here he was, sitting in a lawyer’s office, being told that everything he could ever imagine was now within his grasp.

But there was something else. Something deeper than just the wealth.

Revenge.

The thought crept into his mind, unbidden but undeniable. Jasmine had betrayed him. She had shattered his heart. And Kartik? Kartik had been the one to steal her away, flaunting his wealth and charm in Dhruv’s face, as if he was superior in every way.

Not anymore.

Dhruv closed the file and met Mr. Mehta’s gaze. “What do I have to do next?”

“There are a few formalities, but otherwise, the estate is now yours. We’ll transfer ownership of the properties and assets into your name. And, of course, you’ll have access to your father’s private accounts.”

Dhruv’s mind raced with possibilities. His life had changed overnight. He had the means to do anything he wanted. But what did he want?

He stood up from the table, feeling a surge of determination. “I’ll need time to process all of this,” Dhruv said quietly. “But I’ll be in touch.”

Mr. Mehta nodded. “Take all the time you need. Just remember, Mr. Sharma, your father left this legacy for you. It’s yours to do with as you see fit.”

---

Back in his apartment, Dhruv sat on his bed, staring at the ceiling. His phone buzzed on the bedside table, and he glanced at the screen.

It was Jasmine.

He hadn’t spoken to her since he’d seen the video. Part of him had wanted to call her immediately, to demand answers, to make her explain how she could have done this to him. But now, everything felt different. Jasmine’s betrayal still stung, but it no longer consumed him the way it had before.

He let the phone ring, ignoring her call. She didn’t deserve an answer. Not yet.

Instead, Dhruv grabbed his laptop and started searching for everything he could find on Kartik. If he was going to confront him, Dhruv needed to know more about his rival. Kartik came from a wealthy family, no doubt about that, but his family’s fortune was nowhere near the level of what Dhruv had just inherited. Kartik’s arrogance was built on a shaky foundation—a house of cards that could be easily toppled.

And Dhruv would be the one to knock it down.

He pulled up his contacts and texted Aman.

“Hey, I need some info on Kartik. Anything you can find about his family’s business or any scandals he’s involved in.”

Aman replied quickly.

“Dude, why do you want info on Kartik? What’s going on?”

Dhruv hesitated before typing back.

“Just something personal. I’ll explain later. Can you help?”

“Yeah, give me a bit. I’ll see what I can find.”

With that, Dhruv closed his laptop and leaned back. He had a plan, but it needed time. He wasn’t just going to confront Kartik in anger. No, he was going to dismantle Kartik’s entire world, piece by piece, until the arrogant playboy had nothing left. And then, Dhruv would make sure Jasmine knew exactly what kind of man she had betrayed him for.

But even as the thought of revenge simmered in his mind, something else pulled at his heart. It wasn’t just about getting back at Kartik. Dhruv knew that, deep down, he wanted more than revenge. He wanted to show everyone—including himself—that he wasn’t the weak, poor boy they thought he was. He was powerful now. He had control. And with that control came the opportunity to redefine his future.

---

The following day, Dhruv stood in front of his mirror, adjusting the sleeves of his new suit. It was tailored perfectly, a sleek black ensemble that fit him like a glove. Gone was the simple, modest Dhruv who had to think twice before buying anything. This Dhruv had resources, confidence, and purpose.

His phone buzzed with a message from Aman:

“Got some dirt on Kartik. I’ll send you the details later.”

Perfect. Step one of his plan was already in motion.

As Dhruv walked out of his apartment, he could feel the change within himself. He wasn’t just reacting to what had been done to him. He was taking charge, setting the terms of his own life. And with each step, he knew that the Dhruv of yesterday—the Dhruv who had been hurt, who had been betrayed—was gone.

In his place stood a man ready to take what was his. Whether it was revenge or a new beginning, he hadn’t decided yet. But one thing was certain: Dhruv Sharma was no longer the man anyone could walk over.

This was only the beginning.

---

Dhruv stepped out of the sleek, black sedan that had picked him up earlier that day. The smell of freshly waxed leather still lingered in the air, mixing with the crisp scent of the afternoon breeze. He stood for a moment, staring at the mansion before him—his mansion. It was larger than anything he had ever imagined living in. Set atop a hill, with a sprawling driveway and towering gates, the building screamed opulence and power. This was no longer the life of Dhruv Sharma, the modest guy who couldn’t afford lavish gifts for his girlfriend.

No, this was the life of Dhruv Singh, billionaire heir.

He could still barely believe it, even though Mr. Mehta had reassured him time and again that it was real. The mansion, the cars, the businesses, and the bank accounts—all of it was his now.

Taking a deep breath, he walked up the steps and into the grand foyer, where his new house staff greeted him with courteous bows. He felt out of place, like he was stepping into someone else’s shoes. But then he remembered Jasmine’s betrayal, and Kartik’s smug face, and a sense of purpose reignited within him. This wasn’t just about wealth anymore. This was about power. The power to get back at everyone who had wronged him.

“Mr. Sharma,” a voice called out, snapping Dhruv from his thoughts.

He turned to see Aman standing near the entrance, his expression a mix of awe and confusion. They had been best friends since childhood, and while Aman had always been supportive, this was all new to him as well.

“I still can’t believe you’re living in this,” Aman said, gesturing around the grand hall. “Dude, this place is insane.”

Dhruv smirked. “Yeah, it’s a bit overwhelming. But it’s time to get used to it.”

Aman nodded, but his brow furrowed. “Listen, I’ve got that info you asked for. About Kartik.”

Dhruv’s smirk faded, replaced by a hard, determined expression. “Good. Let’s go to my office.”

---

The “office” in Dhruv’s mansion was more of a luxury suite, with dark mahogany furniture, floor-to-ceiling windows, and a view of the city skyline in the distance. Aman laid a folder on the desk, opening it to reveal a collection of papers, screenshots, and photos.

“Kartik’s family is wealthy, sure, but they’re not as bulletproof as they seem,” Aman began, flipping through the pages. “They’ve got a lot of shady business dealings—some illegal investments, bribery scandals, tax evasion. All of it has been swept under the rug by his dad’s connections.”

Dhruv leaned forward, his eyes scanning the details. Kartik’s father had built his empire on lies and corruption. It was exactly what Dhruv needed—leverage. He knew Kartik wasn’t just going to roll over because Dhruv was rich now, but with the right pressure, he could bring Kartik down.

“This is perfect,” Dhruv muttered, his mind already racing with ideas. “We’ll start leaking this information bit by bit. Hit him where it hurts.”

Aman raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure about this, Dhruv? I get that you’re angry, but this could get messy. Kartik’s family isn’t going to just sit back if you come for them.”

Dhruv stood up, pacing across the room. He could feel the fire in his veins, the anger bubbling just beneath the surface. Kartik had humiliated him, taken Jasmine from him like she was some prize to be won. But now, Dhruv had the upper hand.

“This isn’t just about getting even,” Dhruv said, his voice cold and controlled. “This is about showing Kartik that he can’t treat people like garbage. I’m not the same person I was before. And neither is he, once I’m through with him.”

Aman sighed but nodded. “Alright, man. Just be careful. This could backfire.”

Dhruv gave him a tight smile. “Don’t worry. I know what I’m doing.”

---

Later that night, Dhruv sat in his private study, going over more documents from his father’s empire. It still felt surreal, but he had already started adjusting to his new life. And while the temptation to dive headfirst into the wealth was strong, his mind kept circling back to Jasmine.

He hadn’t spoken to her since the revelation of her betrayal. She had tried calling a few times, but Dhruv had ignored every attempt. Now, sitting in his father’s mansion, surrounded by the luxury he had always thought was out of his reach, Dhruv couldn’t help but wonder what Jasmine would think of this new version of him. Would she regret choosing Kartik over him if she knew who he really was now?

As if on cue, his phone buzzed again. It was a message from Jasmine.

“Dhruv, I know you’re upset, but can we talk? I didn’t mean for things to happen like this. I miss you.”

Dhruv stared at the screen, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. She misses me now, he thought. Now that she’s seen what she’s lost. The irony wasn’t lost on him. Before all this, before the money, Jasmine had chosen Kartik, a man who had nothing but arrogance and wealth to offer. And now, Dhruv was the one with the wealth. The tables had turned.

His fingers hovered over the keyboard, tempted to respond with a cold, cutting message. He could rub it in her face, make her feel the sting of regret. But then he stopped. Why waste time on Jasmine now? She wasn’t worth it.

Instead, Dhruv typed:

“There’s nothing to talk about. We’re done.”

And hit send.

As soon as the message went through, Dhruv felt a strange sense of relief. It wasn’t as satisfying as he had imagined, but it was closure. He had said what he needed to say, and now he could focus on the future—his future.

But as Dhruv closed his phone, his thoughts wandered back to Kartik. Jasmine might have been part of the reason for Dhruv’s anger, but Kartik had always been the real target. Now, with the information Aman had gathered, Dhruv had the means to destroy Kartik’s image, his reputation, and everything he held dear.

It was time to start the game.

---

The following morning, Dhruv called Mr. Mehta. “I need you to set up a meeting with some media contacts. I have some information they’ll find very interesting.”

Mr. Mehta, always composed, didn’t ask questions. “Consider it done, Mr. Sharma.”

As Dhruv ended the call, he looked out at the city skyline. The sun was just beginning to rise, casting a golden glow over the horizon. A new day had begun, and with it, a new chapter of his life.

The first move had been made, and Dhruv was ready to play.

---