It was August, a season when heavy rains fell in Ahmedabad city. Dark clouds hung heavy in the sky, rain was poured without mercy, flooding the streets, slowing down vehicles on the streets. If you take one glance, you can see different types of people, some enjoying in the rain, some are running for shelter.
But inside the Hotel Narayana it was different. Hotel Narayana is Ahmedabad's most famous and luxurious seven-star hotel. Here all types of rich and powerful people came for dining and business meetings. Today there was a birthday party celebrated at this hotel. Everyone was having good food, and you can hear warm laughter from here and there. For the guests inside, the rain was nothing more than a beautiful backdrop. But, the host of the party was not there.
She was on the 15th floor, in a private suite. Today was her birthday, but nothing could be seen on her face. She stood 175 cm tall, her presence sharp and commanding. Slim, graceful, and effortlessly elegant, she turned heads without trying. Her long black hair framed an oval face, calm and composed. But it was her eyes that were deep, steady, and unreadable, that truly stood out. They didn't show pain or fear. They showed control.
Her name was Anjali Mehta.
At just 24, Anjali was India's youngest self-made billionaire. A tech visionary and the founder of AM Corporation, she started her company at 18 just after completing her school education. And in just six years, she had built an empire, leading tens of thousands of employees and revolutionizing the tech industry.
But tonight, business was the last thing on her mind. Although it was her birthday, she was alone here on the 15th floor and there were two reasons for that.
The first one: Her boyfriend of two years, Rohan Mehra, cheated with her personal assistant, making a fool of her. The thing that most was not that he cheated on her but the thing that she kept him for 2 years with her. People often call Anjali "Female Playboy". If you count the number of boyfriends she had on your fingers, you would need an extra hand. But for Anjali, Rohan felt different, so she let him stay and thought she might settle down with him. She was angry at herself, because she had failed to see the true nature of Rohan.
And the second reason? It wasn't just about love. Rohan had crossed another line that no one ever dared to.
He had stolen confidential blueprints of AM Corporation's next big innovation and sold them to JK Corporation, Anjali's fiercest rival.
That wasn't personal. That was business.
Tonight, Anjali hadn't come to plot revenge. She hadn't come to cry either.
She came here to drink. To breathe. To let it all out the frustration, disappointment, and the dull sting of letting someone in.
Because tomorrow, she will return stronger and take revenge on all who hurt her.
Just as Anjali was about to pour herself another glass of wine, a knock echoed through the quiet room.
She placed the bottle on the table and walked over the door. She opened it, a hotel waiter came into her sight, holding a tray with a bottle of wine and some snacks with it. If anyone can see the face of this cold beauty right now, everyone can see a light in her eyes, but it was not from seeing the food and wine that the waiter was holding but the waiter.
The waiter was tall, around 180 cm, with broad shoulders and a well-built frame. His skin was fair brown, his jawline sharp, and his dark hair neatly styled. He looked nothing like the usual hotel staff, more like someone out of a fashion magazine. His uniform was perfectly pressed, and he carried himself with quiet confidence.
"Room service, ma'am," he said with a polite smile. His voice was deep but gentle.
She stepped aside to let him in, watching him move across the room with smooth ease as he set the tray down on the table.
"Didn't order this," she said, raising her eyebrows.
"It's complimentary from the hotel," he replied, meeting her gaze without hesitation. "We were told that you might appreciate something extra tonight."
Anjali gave a short, amused smile. Maybe the staff had overheard the tone of her earlier calls, or maybe they just knew how to read the kind of silence that filled a room like that.
"Well," she said, picking up the glass of wine. "You guessed it right." But... I want something else from you."
The waiter paused, his expression unreadable. "And what would that be, ma'am?"
The waiter waited for a reply, but Anjali took a glass from the table and took a sip of wine, then walked closer to the waiter, her eyes focused on the name tag pinned on his shirt.
"Ajay Sharma," she said, reading the name tag.
"Yes, ma'am" Ajay replied.
Anjali continued with a calm tone, direct, and without shame. "One night. Just tonight. No strings. I'll pay you one lakh rupees."
There was no seduction in her voice. No desperation. It was just an offer. Clean. Blunt. Like a business deal.
Ajay looked at her—really looked. He was stunned, but it was not shown on his face.
Silence followed.
The silence that followed wasn't awkward. It was full of unspoken thoughts, questions, and calculations.
After a moment, he said quietly, "That's not something I usually do."
She nodded slowly. "Neither do I."
Then, she turned away and walked back to the table, leaving the choice with him.
The rain outside continued to fall, but inside that room, time had slowed to a single, weighted moment.