Chapter 1: The Ruthless Billionaire’s Warning

Amaya’s fingers trembled as she pressed the elevator button. Her mind was racing. This wasn’t just any interview—it was with Sharma Group, India’s largest corporate empire. She’d spent the entire night rehearsing answers, fixing her second-hand blazer, and trying not to think about how this was her last shot.

She glanced at her reflection in the shiny elevator wall. Slightly pale. Lips dry. Eyes tired. Pull it together, Amaya.

The doors opened to a gleaming lobby. Cold marble floors. Glass walls. People in suits moved with robotic efficiency.

And then she saw him.

Arjun Sharma.

The man whose name ruled headlines, whose face was never fully captured in public but whose eyes now locked with hers across the floor.

She froze. He was taller than she imagined. Dressed in black. Impossibly composed.

“You’re late,” he said before she could speak.

His voice was calm—almost too calm—but it held the weight of a man who wasn’t used to being disappointed.

“I—I’m sorry, sir,” Amaya stammered. “The train was—”

“I don’t tolerate excuses,” he cut her off, eyes narrowing. “If you can’t respect time, you can’t work with me.”

Amaya swallowed the lump in her throat. “It won’t happen again.”

For a moment, silence. Then something shifted in his gaze. Not softness—never softness—but calculation. Like he was reassessing her.

“I read your application,” he said. “Art student. No assistant experience. No corporate background. Why apply for this job?”

“Because I need it,” she replied, her voice firmer now. “And I don’t give up easily.”

That seemed to amuse him—just slightly.

“You’ll find this job is... more than it seems,” he said. “Follow me.”

She trailed behind him through a narrow hallway, past frosted doors and blank-faced guards, into an office that felt more like a fortress than a workspace.

Arjun walked to a sleek, black desk. From the drawer, he pulled out a sealed white envelope and slid it toward her.

“Open this after work,” he said, tone unreadable. “And do not speak of it to anyone. Not your friends, not your family.”

Amaya stared at the envelope, then back at him. “What is this?”

His lips curled into something almost resembling a smile—but colder.

“Consider it... your real job description.”

Her pulse quickened. “Is this a test?”

“Everything is a test,” he replied. “You’ve stepped into a world where trust is currency, and betrayal is cheap.”

She didn’t know what to say, so she nodded.

“One more thing,” he added, sitting down. “If you choose to walk away after reading what’s inside… no one will stop you.”

“But if I stay?” she asked quietly.

His gaze darkened. “Then you become my shadow. And my shadow can’t afford to make mistakes.”

The air between them thickened.

Amaya took the envelope, tucking it into her bag. Her fingers tingled with dread… or maybe anticipation. She couldn’t tell.

“Dismissed,” he said without looking up.

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