Ishani Mehta sat at the dining table, staring at the stack of unpaid bills in front of her. The grand chandelier above, a relic of the family’s past wealth, flickered dimly as though mourning their downfall. Her father, Raj Mehta, sighed deeply, his once proud shoulders slumped under the weight of his failures.

“Ishani, listen to me. This is our only way out,” Raj said, his voice laced with desperation.

She clenched her fists, willing herself to stay calm. “You want me to marry him? Veer Rathore?”

Her eldest sister, Aadya, placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “It’s not like you have to love him. It’s a contract marriage. A business deal.”

Ishani let out a hollow laugh. “A business deal that sells me off like an asset.”

Her father’s eyes hardened. “You think I want this? Do you think I enjoy watching my daughter make such a sacrifice? But we have no choice, Ishani. The creditors are knocking on our door. We’re drowning.”

Ishani’s heart pounded. She had known things were bad, but this was worse than she had imagined. She glanced at Aadya, then at her younger sister, Avni, who sat silently, fear evident in her eyes.

“Veer Rathore needs a wife to secure his inheritance. We need his money to survive,” her father continued. “One year, Ishani. Just one year. Then you walk away with enough to rebuild our lives.”

Her nails dug into her palm. One year with a man she had despised since childhood. Veer Rathore—the ruthless, calculating CEO who never looked at anyone unless they were useful to him.

Before she could refuse, Raj placed a contract on the table.

“Think about it.”

Rathore Industries – CEO’s Office

Ishani stormed into Veer’s office without knocking. He was seated behind an imposing mahogany desk, his dark eyes lifting from a document as she approached.

“Ah, the reluctant bride,” he murmured, leaning back in his chair.

Her jaw clenched. “Let’s make one thing clear. This is business. Nothing else.”

Veer smirked, tapping his fingers on the desk. “Good. Then we won’t have any issues.”

“I have conditions,” she said, crossing her arms. “I want to continue working. I want my own space. And I don’t want any interference in my personal life.”

Veer’s smirk widened. “Fair enough. But I have one rule—you don’t fall in love with me.”

Ishani let out a dry chuckle. “Not a problem.”

He extended a hand. “Then we have a deal, Mrs. Rathore.”

She hesitated, then grasped his hand. The deal was sealed.

Little did they know, that rule would be the hardest one to keep.

Outside the office, the sky darkened, mirroring the storm brewing between them. Ishani’s heart was steady, her mind made up—but deep inside, something unsettled her.

She walked out of Rathore Industries with her head held high, but the moment she reached her car, she exhaled shakily. Could she truly keep her emotions in check?

Meanwhile, inside the office, Veer watched her retreating figure through the glass window. His fingers tightened around the pen in his hand.

“This is just business,” he muttered to himself, but for the first time in years, he wasn’t entirely sure.

As the wedding date approached, their lives were about to intertwine in ways neither of them could predict. What started as a contract would soon unravel into something much more complicated—something neither of them were ready to face.

The wedding preparations began immediately. Ishani found herself surrounded by luxury, drowning in a world that wasn’t hers. Lavish fabrics, glittering jewelry, and endless discussions about floral arrangements—none of it felt real. She was merely playing a part in someone else’s grand performance, a role she hadn’t chosen but had accepted nonetheless.

She sat stiffly in the grand bridal boutique, her fingers running over the embroidery of an expensive lehenga, but her mind was elsewhere. How had her life come to this? A contract marriage with Veer Rathore, the cold, ruthless CEO who seemed to find amusement in her misery.

“Do you always look this miserable?”

Veer’s deep, commanding voice pulled her from her thoughts. He stood beside her, arms crossed, his sharp gaze assessing her with something between curiosity and amusement. His presence was overwhelming, like an unshakable force that demanded attention.

“I didn’t realize forced brides had to be cheerful,” she shot back, her tone sharp.

Veer smirked, tilting his head slightly. “You agreed to this, sweetheart.”

Her jaw tightened. “Don’t call me that.”

His smirk didn’t waver, but there was a shift in his eyes—something darker, something unreadable. “Then stop looking like you’re marching to your execution.”

Ishani crossed her arms, her glare unwavering. “This might be just business to you, but my life is changing overnight. Forgive me if I’m not thrilled.”

Veer stepped closer, lowering his voice so only she could hear. “You’re not the only one making sacrifices, Ishani. But remember this—you walked into my office and took the deal. No one forced you.”

She hated that he was right. Hated that she had willingly entered this arrangement. But that didn’t mean she had to make it easy for him.

A designer approached, holding up an intricate lehenga with delicate gold embroidery. “This would look stunning on you, ma’am.”

Ishani barely glanced at the outfit before shifting her gaze to Veer. He was watching her, his expression unreadable, but there was a challenge in his eyes. She straightened her shoulders. If she was going to do this, she would do it on her terms.

“Fine,” she said, turning back to the designer. “Let’s get this over with.”

Veer’s lips twitched, as if he had expected more resistance, maybe even a tantrum. But Ishani Mehta was proving to be more unpredictable than he had anticipated.

He leaned in slightly, his voice low. “I’m curious, Ishani. Are you always this defiant, or is it just for me?”

She held his gaze, refusing to back down. “You’ll have plenty of time to find out.”

His smirk deepened, but there was something else in his eyes now—something that almost resembled intrigue. He had expected a submissive, reluctant bride, someone who would simply endure. Instead, he had found a woman who wouldn’t break so easily.

And for the first time, he wondered if this contract marriage would be far more complicated than he had planned.

The wedding date was set, and with each passing day, the reality of her situation pressed down on Ishani like an iron weight. The grandeur of the Rathore estate, the never-ending guest lists, and the suffocating presence of Veer’s world were all consuming. She was used to a life of quiet struggles, not the opulence and sharp scrutiny that came with marrying a man like him.

Tonight was their official engagement party, an event that Ishani had no say in but was expected to play her part flawlessly. Dressed in a deep red saree adorned with delicate embroidery, she felt like a painted doll, carefully presented for an audience that wasn’t hers.

Veer, as always, looked completely at ease in a tailored black suit, his posture exuding confidence as he greeted guests with a practiced charm. Ishani stood beside him, a quiet storm brewing beneath her poised exterior.

“Smile,” Veer muttered under his breath, his fingers barely grazing hers as they posed for another round of photographs. “Or they’ll think you’re being held hostage.”

She forced a tight-lipped smile, whispering back, “I am.”

Veer let out a low chuckle, the sound deep and unbothered. “Then at least act like you’re enjoying your captivity.”

Before she could respond, a voice interrupted them. “Veer, my boy, always the charmer.”

Ishani turned to see an older man approach, his calculating gaze flickering between the two of them. He was a high-profile businessman—someone from Veer’s world.

“I must say, your fiancée is quite the vision,” the man continued, eyes appraising Ishani like she was another asset Veer had acquired.

“She is,” Veer replied smoothly, wrapping an arm around her waist with practiced ease. Ishani stiffened, her body going rigid at the unexpected contact.

The businessman chuckled. “You’ve done well for yourself, Veer. A beautiful wife and a growing empire. A man who wins in business and marriage—impressive.”

Ishani clenched her jaw, biting back the sharp retort bubbling on her tongue. Was that all she was to these people? A trophy? A well-negotiated deal?

As the man walked away, Veer loosened his grip, but Ishani stepped away first, her voice low but sharp. “Do you always let people talk about women like we’re possessions?”

Veer tilted his head slightly, regarding her with an unreadable expression. “Welcome to my world, Ishani.”

She exhaled sharply, anger simmering beneath her skin. “Your world is disgusting.”

“Maybe,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. “But you knew what you were walking into.”

She did. And yet, standing here, surrounded by strangers who saw her as nothing more than Veer Rathore’s latest acquisition, she felt a different kind of suffocation.

The night dragged on with more conversations, more forced smiles, and more moments where Ishani felt like she was losing pieces of herself. And through it all, Veer remained composed, as if this was second nature to him.

As the evening wound down, he finally leaned toward her, his voice dropping to a murmur. “You handled yourself well.”

She turned to him, her voice unwavering. “I wasn’t performing for you.”

Veer smirked. “You will, eventually.”

She hated how sure he sounded. Hated that part of her feared he might be right.

As she walked away, putting distance between them, she couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t just a contract marriage anymore. This was a game Veer had mastered—and she was just learning the rules.