I Third-person pov I
I Chapter 1 I
A colony where only rich people live in such kind and humble surroundings as the city; it's like a fairytale, but it's not people who live in this society because of the hard work they put in. In this colony, there is a house where it still feels like a middle-class neighborhood.
The woman whose name is inaff to make anything possible. "Eshani Mukherjee"
If elegance and intelligence have words, then they will only define her in the world as one of the most admirable women who has made every man on his fucking knees without them knowing. She has beauty like goodness and a brain like a computer, and if anyone has both, then they are not dangerous; they are lethal.
She was never a princess; she is the queen who makes her life how she wants. She is a lawyer who never loses any case she takes, and
She owns one of the biggest law firms, where the highest-paid actors, actresses, models, and politicians come for help. She has deep connections with politicians. With one click on her phone, people may come to the street, lose their jobs, or perhaps die. Her power and influence are unmatched, and she wields them with precision. Her ability to manipulate situations and control outcomes is a testament to her strategic brilliance. Those who underestimate her do so at their own peril, for she is a force to be reckoned with in every sense of the word. .
Inside the house of Miss Eshani Mukherjee.
I Eshani Mukherjee I
a ray of sunshine that is inside my whole room, which I felt was the best and worst part of the morning because, getting up from the bed, I hear my mom yelling at me like always.
when I hear "kamini kitta soyagi uthna nhi hai."
After all my laziness, I put it outside the room when I saw my mom glaring at me.
"Mummy," I said in a baby voice, showing puppy eyes.
"Bta kya hoga tera shadi ke baad, agar abhi yeh haal hai toh. Pati bolega chai bna do toh yeh bolegi kya mere liye bhi bna Dena Mai abhi sookar uthu hu, Mummy replied while shouting.
"Kya dikkat hai," Papa replied.
Thank God, papa, aa gye abb tho bcha lenge woh mujhe.
"Aap tho rehne hi do apka bass chala tho isski shadi hi na hone do itta accha rishta aya hai, ladka dakhne aa rha hai aaj mai bilkul nhi chahati ki aap aur apki beti koi bhi natak karo." Mummy said calmly, like it was nothing but a boom in my life. First of all,whether it's a boy or a man who cares, both are just problems; secondly, it's my mother's choice; it's always wrong. Once,when I was a fresher, I told my mother to buy me clothes for the freshmen party because I was busy with, god knows, what? What she bought for my freshmen were kurta pajamas. Can you imagine?
I hear Papa's voice. "Yeh kab hua,mujhe koi kuch batata kyu nhi haan."
When I tried to taunt Mummy, even Papa, no one told me what was going on in my life. "Doesn't anyone tell me before taking a decision about my life? And yet I am still a child, and look, mom is talking about marriage.".
"Stop. Both of you know that they will come around 2 hours later. We have to prepare everything, even the saree. Eshani"
"And you, Mr. Eshani's father, didn't tell me about the proposal from the man one week ago? You are the person who forgets. Come on, old man, get up; we have so much preparation left, Mummy said without taking a pause. Like raping.
I looked at Papa like I was glaring because I was really mad at him for not informing me about the proposal. It made me feel like my opinion didn't matter in this decision about my own life. I wanted to have a say in who I would spend the rest of my life with, but it seemed like everyone else had already made up their minds. At least he should tell me. fuck…
Suddenly, I asked my mother a question: "Can I still reject the man?"
Mumma just ignored my question and exited my room while my father, being an obedient husband, went after her while giving me an apologetic smile.
Wait, she didn't tell me whether I should be ready or not. That means I can reject him, isn't it?
I really want to die with my mother's hand, my inner voice said.
One minute later, she even didn't tell about the man who would come today, like it was a so confidential report for my mother. What will I do with a man? I will just make my assistant do a little bit of stalking and find his weakness, then blackmail the boy or man who cares to stand in my house without my permission, and even send the proposal of wedding. If a man doesn't easily accept the blackmail, how about killing him with the mind of a businesswoman and lawyer who knows how to make a man on his knees say no to the wedding? As these thoughts raced through my mind, I couldn't help but feel a surge of power and control. I know I will control this situation I had with someone who crossed me. I have the skills and resources to manipulate and dominate anyone who dares to challenge me. With a calculated plan in place, I am confident that I can once again assert my authority and make this person regret ever crossing paths with me.
When I again heard my mother's voice loud and clear, "I am giving you 30 minutes to get red or be ready to die with the hands of your own mom, I quickly ran through the bathroom.
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