A Taste of Power

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.

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