Beneath the Sapphire Throne
Evening – Jaipur's Royal Syndicate Assembly Hall
The sapphire dome of the ancient hall glimmered under golden chandeliers. Behind its marbled walls, power didn't whisper—it roared in silence.
Aaradhya stood at the helm of the table now, in front of over two dozen high-ranking allies, monarchs, and underworld elites—many of whom had doubted her return, and even more who feared her rise.
She wore deep royal blue. Her mother's emerald choker hugged her neck. Zoya stood behind her, calm and unreadable. Ruhan wasn't in the room—but his influence lingered like the shadow of a lion.
Devraj's voice cut across the air.
"The Jaipur seat, once plagued by laundering, extortion, and weapons smuggling, is being reformed under Aaradhya Rathore's vision. Tonight, she leads the summit."
A few murmurs. Some narrowed eyes. But most stayed silent.
Aaradhya looked across the table—faces that had once watched her as a child, some that had tried to manipulate her lineage, others who still whispered about the "fake heiress" behind her back.
Her voice didn't tremble.
"I won't play politics in shadows. Jaipur is no longer a pawn—it's a kingdom of its own."
She tapped the table. Screens lit up with her proposal: Agni Foundation, Clean Trade Alliances, Gun Control Exchanges, Black-market Rehabilitation, Cross-Border Education Initiatives.
"You want power. I want reform. Let's make them coexist."
A long pause.
Then, a slow clap.
From the back of the room, a man emerged.
Dark suit. Salt-pepper beard. Green eyes that looked like they saw into futures and past sins.
"Finally," he said, voice like gravel, "a Rathore who speaks like a ruler."
She straightened. "Kabeer Khan."
The Emir of the Middle-Eastern Circles. Her father's most unpredictable ally—and critic.
He walked up to her, nodding.
"I'll fund your clean trade alliance. With one condition."
Aaradhya's jaw tightened. "Which is?"
He smiled faintly. "That the Rathores join my negotiation council. I want your voice in Dubai's security structure. Ruhan's, too."
She didn't flinch.
"You'll get it. As long as I lead those discussions."
Kabeer's smile widened.
"Now you sound like your mother."
---
Outside – Moonlit Balcony
Ruhan waited outside, away from the politics, watching the moonlight wash over the marble railings. The distant sound of Aaradhya's voice inside made his chest ache with something he didn't dare name.
Devraj stepped beside him. Quiet. Observing.
"She's ready," Devraj said.
Ruhan gave a small nod. "More than I ever was."
Devraj looked sideways. "You're still afraid she'll walk away?"
Ruhan gave a bitter smile. "Not afraid. Just… trying to figure out if I'd deserve it."
Devraj looked him straight in the eyes.
"You never loved anything like this before. That's why it terrifies you."
Ruhan chuckled. "You're starting to sound like my therapist."
Devraj's lips twitched. "You don't have one."
"Exactly."
They stood in silence.
Then Devraj murmured, "You should tell her about the file."
Ruhan's expression hardened. "I will. After the summit."
"You don't have that long," Devraj warned. "Because someone else might tell her first."
---
Flashback – Six Years Ago, Classified Location
Ten-year-old Aaradhya sat alone in a cold room. Hands bruised. Eyes dull. Her voice had stopped days ago.
The masked figure across from her removed their glove.
"Do you know who I am?" the voice asked, gentle.
She didn't reply.
"I'm the one who got your mother out," they said. "And I'll get you out too."
The door slammed open.
Ruhan entered, younger, fiercer, holding a blade still dripping from a fight.
He picked her up without hesitation.
"She doesn't belong in this place," he spat.
"She doesn't belong anywhere until we clear her name," the masked figure replied.
Ruhan's gaze turned to steel. "Then let's make the world remember who she is."
---
Present Day – Aaradhya's Private Suite
She sat in front of her vanity, removing the heavy earrings from her lobes. Zoya entered, holding a sealed black envelope.
"This came from Morocco," she said.
Aaradhya froze. "Shraddha?"
"No," Zoya answered. "Samira Dastan."
The name sent a chill through the room.
The woman known as the "Vulture Queen."
Inside the envelope—a hand-drawn map of an underground prison and a note.
"Your mother's truth isn't buried. It's imprisoned. Come alone."
Aaradhya's breath caught.
For years, she believed her mother was murdered in the trafficking war.
Could she still be alive?
She looked up at Zoya, whose eyes were already wide with fear.
"You're not seriously considering going, are you?" Zoya asked.
Aaradhya folded the letter. "I have to."
Zoya stepped forward. "Let Ruhan help."
But Aaradhya's expression was unreadable.
"I don't trust anyone to carry this burden but me."
---
Late Night – Ruhan's Apartment
He poured over files on their former enemy network, tracing Samira's alliances, trying to determine why Morocco was circling again.
Then the system pinged.
Zoya's private signal.
He opened it.
"She's leaving. Alone. She has a lead on her mother. She won't listen to me."
Ruhan's breath stalled.
He stood immediately, grabbed his weapon case, called Devraj, and barked—
"She's walking into a trap."
---
Two Days Later – Morocco, Edge of the Sahara
The wind howled like wolves. Sand tore at her skin.
Aaradhya stepped into the half-buried ruins of what was once a military base turned covert prison.
She found the first cell. Empty.
The second. Empty.
The third—
A woman lay slumped in chains.
Grey streaked her long black hair. But the face—
Aaradhya's heart stopped.
"Ma?" she whispered.
The woman stirred. Looked up.
Eyes identical to hers.
"Aaradhya?"
Tears rolled down both their cheeks.
"You're alive," she choked.
Her mother's voice cracked. "They said you'd never find me."
Aaradhya dropped to her knees, trying to unchain her.
Then—
A gun clicked behind her.
Samira stood in the doorway, face half-lit by moonlight.
"Touch her again, and you die."
---