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Krishna and Ram sat in the backseat of their sleek black luxury car, the engine humming smoothly as they made their way toward the courthouse.

The interior was spacious and refined—black leather seats, tinted windows shielding them from prying eyes, and the quiet hum of the AC filling the space. The faint scent of fresh coffee lingered in the air, mixing with the crisp fragrance of Krishna's cologne.

Outside, the city pulsed with its usual energy—pedestrians rushing past, cars honking impatiently, a world oblivious to the silent war brewing between two corporate titans.

Ram let out a sharp breath, rubbing his temple in frustration. "I swear, if Jarasand was any more persistent, I'd think he was in love with us."

Krishna smirked, adjusting his cufflinks. "I'm flattered, really. But unfortunately for him, I don't date men."

Ram rolled his eyes, exasperated. "I'm serious, Krishna. The man is unhinged. Ever since Kansa's fall, he's been breathing down our necks, doing everything in his power to make things difficult for us. Trying to sabotage our partnerships, pressuring suppliers, pulling strings in the legal system—it's like he's on a mission to collapse Regulus Corporation entirely."

Krishna leaned back against the plush leather, his demeanour utterly unbothered.

"He is on a mission, Ram," Krishna said smoothly. "To him, this isn't business—it's revenge. Kansa was his biggest ally, and when I took him down, Jarasand lost a major part of his empire. He's not attacking us because it's strategic. He's attacking us because he's pissed off."

Ram scoffed, shaking his head. "The worst kind of enemy—a vengeful idiot with too much power."

Krishna chuckled. "Exactly. And that's why he's bound to fail."

Ram frowned, shifting slightly in his seat. "That's what worries me, though. Desperate men do desperate things."

Krishna glanced out of the window for a moment, watching the city blur past. Then, with absolute certainty, he turned back to his brother.

"Let him," he said simply. "Let him throw everything he has at us. He's running out of moves. And when he does—we'll make our move."

Ram studied Krishna for a long moment. Despite everything, despite the chaos surrounding them, Krishna was completely calm.

He exhaled, leaning back. "You always have a plan, don't you?"

Krishna smirked, resting his elbow on the armrest. "Of course."

And just like that—the tension in the car eased.

Ram took a slow sip of his coffee, his grip on the cup loosening.

The manager, who had been quietly reviewing documents in the front seat, finally relaxed his shoulders.

Even the chauffeur, who had been silently driving, seemed to sit a little straighter, his hands steady on the wheel.

Because when Krishna said something—they believed him.

Not just because he was their boss.

But because he had never let them down before.

Soon, they reached the courthouse.

The car rolled to a smooth stop near the entrance, the driver stepping out first to open the door.

Krishna and Ram emerged, their polished shoes clicking against the pavement.

The morning sun cast long shadows behind them, outlining their sharp suits, the unmistakable presence of men who walked with power.

Ram adjusted his cuffs, his eyes scanning the grand courthouse.

"Let's get this over with," he muttered.

Krishna smirked, stepping forward.

As Krishna and Ram stepped inside, the atmosphere in the courthouse shifted.

Conversations slowed, glances flickered their way—some filled with awe, others with admiration. Lawyers who had spent their careers chasing power recognized it instantly when it walked past them.

Krishna's reputation wasn't just about wealth—it was about dominance, about being the kind of man who didn't just win battles, but chose which ones were worth fighting.

And right now, every pair of eyes in that room knew that Regulus Corporation had stepped into a war.

They walked through the grand hallway, their polished shoes clicking against the marble floors, their tailored suits immaculate, their presence impossible to ignore.

But when they finally reached their lawyer's office, the atmosphere shifted again.

This time, to something off.

Their lawyer, Mr. Shankar Verma, barely met their gaze as they entered.

Instead, he busied himself with the papers on his desk, his hands fidgeting, his posture tense.

When he finally spoke, his voice lacked its usual confidence.

"Ah, please, have a seat," he said hesitantly, motioning toward the chairs.

Krishna raised an eyebrow.

Ram exchanged a quick glance with him. They both saw it—something was wrong.

Krishna took his seat, crossing one leg over the other, his sharp gaze never leaving Verma.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," Krishna remarked, his tone casual, but laced with something unreadable. "What's wrong?"

Verma quickly shook his head. "N-Nothing. Just a long morning."

But the sweat on his forehead betrayed him.

Krishna leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the armrest.

"Try again," he said smoothly. "This time, with the truth."

Verma swallowed hard.

His hands clenched into fists over the papers in front of him. The room felt heavier, suffocating.

Then—he finally broke.

"I can't fight for Regulus Corporation," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. "My family... they're in trouble because of it."

Ram stiffened.

Krishna's gaze didn't waver.

"And you didn't come to me for help?" Krishna asked, tilting his head. "I would have handled it."

Verma shook his head more aggressively this time, as if Krishna wasn't understanding.

"You don't get it," he said, his voice cracking. "Even you can't do anything."

Krishna's smirk didn't fade.

"You'd be surprised what I can do," he said smoothly, his tone still calm.

Verma flinched, his throat bobbing as he tried to form a response.

Krishna tapped his fingers against the armrest, watching him like a predator playing with its prey.

"So tell me, Verma," Krishna continued, his voice soft but deadly, "What exactly did Jarasand promise you?"

Verma's breath hitched.

"I— I don't know what you mean," he stammered.

Krishna's smirk widened.

"You don't?" he mused. "Let me guess. A large sum? Some 'insurance' for your family's safety? Maybe even a government contract, once Regulus Corporation is out of the way?"

Verma's silence was enough confirmation.

Ram clenched his jaw. "Unbelievable."

Krishna, however, remained perfectly composed.

"Tell me, Verma," he continued. "How long have you been working for him?"

Verma's eyes widened in panic. "I— I haven't— I mean—"

Krishna chuckled softly. "Relax. It's just a question."

Verma swallowed, his fingers twitching. "I... I didn't have a choice."

Krishna sighed, shaking his head.

"There's always a choice, Verma," he said, leaning forward. "You just chose the coward's way."

Verma's face drained of colour.

"You know," Krishna mused, "I could sue you for this. Breach of contract. Corruption. Fraud."

Verma visibly paled.

He opened his mouth—**perhaps to beg, perhaps to explain—but before he could say another word—

A loud slam echoed through the office.

Krishna and Ram's heads snapped toward the source of the sound.

Across the room, someone had slammed their hand against a table with enough force to silence everything.

The tension in the air thickened.

The loud slam cut through the tension like a blade, making every head in the room snap toward its source.

Krishna turned his gaze, curious rather than startled.

And there she was.

The woman he had pulled from the water just the day before.

She stood tall, shoulders squared, her expression unreadable—but her eyes, those fierce, determined eyes, burned with a fire that couldn't be ignored.

Her presence alone was enough to command attention.

For a moment, Krishna simply watched her, intrigued. Then, shifting his focus back to Verma, he asked in a deceptively casual tone,

"And who, exactly, is she?"

Verma, still visibly shaken, blinked in surprise—thrown off by Krishna's sudden change in subject and tone.

It took him a second to gather himself before he answered, his voice laced with tension.

"That's Rukmini," Verma said, glancing at her warily. "She comes from a political family... but she left it all behind to pursue justice. They tried to force her into a world she wanted nothing to do with."

Krishna raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

Verma continued, his words tumbling out now. "She's made a lot of enemies. Just yesterday, she went against Jarasand's men and got one of his key people arrested. And now..." He swallowed. "Now their top lawyer is here, trying to pressure her into withdrawing her case."

Krishna leaned back slightly in his chair, a smirk playing at his lips.

"This lawyer," he mused, gesturing vaguely. "Wouldn't happen to be the same one who made you so eager to jump ship, would it?"

Verma didn't answer.

But he didn't need to.

Ram, ever sharp, scoffed. "That would explain why Verma knows so much about it."

Krishna chuckled, tapping his fingers against the armrest. His gaze flickered back to Rukmini, studying her with renewed interest.

Her resolve was almost tangible—a stark contrast to the fear rolling off Verma in waves.

"And her name is Rukmini..." Krishna repeated, letting the name settle on his tongue, his voice dropping just slightly.

Interesting.

Verma hesitated, glancing toward Rukmini's table. "Not that it matters. She'll withdraw, too. Jarasand will make her."

Krishna's smirk deepened.

Will he now?

Just then, Jarasand's lawyer, red-faced and humiliated, stormed past them toward the exit.

As he passed Rukmini, he paused just long enough to murmur something under his breath.

She didn't flinch, but her jaw clenched, and Krishna noticed the slight tightening of her fingers into fists.

A threat, no doubt.

But whatever was said, it had no visible effect on her stance. She stood tall, unyielding—a stark contrast to the broken posture of the man who had just tried to intimidate her.

Krishna watched the entire exchange, and when the lawyer finally disappeared through the doors, he let out a soft chuckle.

"Doesn't seem like she's the type to back down," he murmured, more to himself than anyone else.

His gaze drifted back to Verma, whose nervousness had only increased.

"You know, Verma," Krishna said, tilting his head slightly, "she's got something in her eyes that you don't."

Verma stiffened. "What do you mean?"

Krishna's smile turned knowing.

"Conviction," he said simply.

The kind that couldn't be bought.

The kind that men like Verma would never understand.

Then, without another word, Krishna stood.

Verma's lips parted, as if he wanted to say something—perhaps plead, perhaps justify himself.

But Krishna wasn't interested.

He had already made up his mind.

Patting Verma's shoulder lightly, he said, "Relax. You're off the hook. I've found myself a better lawyer."

And with that—without giving Verma the chance to respond—Krishna walked away.

Straight toward Rukmini's desk.

Krishna moved with an effortless confidence, his strides smooth and deliberate as he approached Rukmini's desk. The air around him was thick with authority, yet his expression carried an unmistakable trace of amusement.

He stopped just short of the desk, hands slipping casually into his pockets as he regarded her.

Rukmini, who had been reviewing a document with a sharp gaze, looked up the moment his shadow loomed over her desk. Her dark eyes flickered with recognition—a brief but telling pause—before her gaze hardened again.

"What do you need?" she asked, her tone even, guarded.

Krishna smirked.

"Partnership."

For a moment, she didn't react.

Then, ever so slowly, she stood up, her chair scraping against the floor as she met his gaze properly. Her posture remained rigid yet composed, her fingers barely grazing the edge of her desk as she studied him.

Ram, standing beside Krishna, cleared his throat as Rukmini's gaze briefly shifted toward him. She acknowledged him with the same careful scrutiny before her focus returned to Krishna—lingering.

Krishna chuckled, shaking his head slightly.

Interesting.

"It's amazing, isn't it?" he mused, his voice light, teasing. "Fate bringing us together again like this?"

Rukmini exhaled slowly, as if steeling herself. "Seems like it."

She inhaled deeply, as if reminding herself to remain calm, professional.

Krishna didn't miss the way her shoulders tensed ever so slightly.

She was being careful.

Doubt was evident in her posture, and Krishna knew exactly why.

She had already made powerful enemies. And after what had just happened with Jarasand's men and their lawyer, she probably had little reason to trust anyone at all.

But despite the skepticism clouding her gaze, she composed herself, keeping her tone steady.

"Thank you for yesterday," she said finally, her gratitude polite yet distant. "But I don't believe we've been properly introduced. Who exactly are you, and why would I become your partner?"

Krishna's lips curled into a small, knowing smile—as if he had been expecting her skepticism all along.

He was enjoying this.

"Allow me to introduce myself, then," he said smoothly.

He let the silence stretch for a fraction of a second before speaking again.

"My name is Krishna."

The moment the name left his lips, Rukmini visibly stiffened.

Her breath caught—just barely—but enough for Krishna to notice.

He allowed himself a small, victorious smirk.

Then, he gestured toward Ram.

"And this is my elder brother, Ram."

Ram nodded slowly, watching her with a neutral expression.

Krishna's gaze never wavered from Rukmini's as he continued, his next words dropping like a hammer.

"I also happen to be the owner of Regulus Corporation."

The air seemed to still.

Rukmini's fingers twitched slightly against the desk—a reflex.

Krishna could see it—the name had hit its mark.

But still, her face gave away nothing.

For the first time, Krishna found himself at a loss.

She wasn't reacting the way most people did upon hearing his name.

Was she shocked? Thinking? Calculating?

He couldn't tell.

Rukmini's dark eyes narrowed, and she crossed her arms, leveling him with a skeptical look.

"This is all too convenient," she said slowly.

Krishna raised a brow, intrigued. "Is it?"

"And how exactly," she continued, voice cool, "am I supposed to believe that you're not working with Jarasand?"

Krishna let out a soft chuckle.

Ah.

So that was it.

He had earned her suspicion, not her trust.

He was amused rather than offended.

Shaking his head slightly, he let out a salty, almost incredulous laugh.

"Me?" he repeated, his tone carrying the barest hint of mockery.

There was no arrogance in his voice—just pure, unfiltered amusement.

"You think I'm with Jarasand?"

Rukmini didn't say anything, but the doubt on her face was enough.

Something in Krishna itched at that look.

He wasn't sure why.

All he knew was that, for some reason, he wanted her to understand—needed her to understand—that he was nothing like the men she had just faced.

So, this time, when he spoke, his tone wasn't just teasing.

It was sharp. Final.

"I was the one who destroyed Kansa's entire business empire," he said, leaning slightly against her desk, his posture still relaxed—but his words carrying weight.

"And yet, you—of all people—think I'm one of his men?"

Ram visibly tensed beside him.

His older brother turned toward him in horror, clearly not expecting Krishna to drop such a statement like it was casual gossip.

Even Krishna, upon hearing himself, was a little surprised.

He never spoke like that.

But then there was Rukmini.

She froze.

Krishna immediately regretted it.

Was that too much?

She's going to react the same way she did with Jarasand's lawyer.

For a split second, he braced himself.

But then...

She didn't.

She wasn't recoiling in fear.

She wasn't pulling away.

She was just looking at him.

And Krishna—**for the first time in a long time—**couldn't read what was going on behind her eyes.

The uncertainty gnawed at him.

So, keeping his calm, he tilted his head slightly and asked,

"So... deal?"

Rukmini hesitated.

Krishna could feel it now.

She was considering it.

She was still unsure. But she was thinking.

Krishna sighed lightly. He knew better than to expect an easy victory.

"Fine," he said, tapping his fingers lightly against the desk. "Let's make it simple. You'll work for me as my corporate lawyer. My personal lawyer, actually. In return, I'll help you with this case—against Jarasand's men."

The air between them shifted.

Krishna made it sound like just another business deal, nothing more. But Rukmini's hesitation was still evident.

Still, Krishna knew.

She needed his help.

And he needed hers.

So, with a smooth motion, he pulled out a sleek black business card, flipping it between his fingers before sliding it across the table toward her.

"Think about it," he said, voice lowering into something softer. More confident.

"Take your time."

He leaned in slightly.

"But you will call me."

Rukmini raised an eyebrow, challenging him.

"And what makes you so sure of that?"

Krishna grinned—boyish, almost playful.

The kind of grin that always worked.

"Because," he said smoothly, "you'll call me tonight. At that."

Then, with a wink, he turned and walked away, leaving her utterly speechless.

Krishna himself had no idea where that **sudden confidence—**that almost flirtatious bravado—had come from.

Krishna didn't glance back as he walked away, though he felt Rukmini's eyes burning into his back.

Ram followed beside him, his steps brisker—almost hurried, as if wanting to put as much distance between them and Rukmini's office as possible.

Once they were out in the hallway, away from her sharp gaze, Ram finally exhaled.

Then, he turned to Krishna with a look of pure horror.

"Are you out of your mind?" Ram hissed, his voice barely above a whisper.

Krishna didn't answer right away. Instead, he took a long, deep breath and then—

"Ah, what a beautiful day, isn't it, Ram?" Krishna said with a dramatic sigh, looking toward the large window at the end of the corridor. "The sky is clear, the birds are singing, the air feels fresh—perfect weather, don't you think?"

Ram stared.

"...Are you seriously trying to change the subject right now?"

Krishna smiled, still looking out the window. "No, no, I'm just appreciating the finer things in life, Ram. We don't do that enough."

Ram groaned. "Krishna, you just—just—announced to a courtroom full of lawyers that you destroyed Kansa's entire business empire!"

Krishna nodded thoughtfully. "Hmm, yes, and did you notice how nice the breeze felt when we walked in here?"

Ram stopped in his tracks. "Krishna!"

Krishna finally turned to him, his expression as carefree as ever. "What? It worked, didn't it?"

Ram rubbed his temples. "What worked was you distracting her with your stupid confidence. 'You'll call me tonight, at that'? You winked!"

Krishna smirked, tilting his head. "Ah, yes. That was a nice touch, wasn't it?"

Ram groaned louder, looking up at the ceiling like he was asking the gods for patience. "I swear, one day, your mouth is going to get us into serious trouble."

Krishna ignored him entirely. Instead, he stretched his arms and changed the topic once again.

"Anyway," he said, "I'm feeling good. We should celebrate. Milkshake and butterscotch pastry sound about right."

Ram paused mid-step.

"You can't have that much sugar," he reminded, tone flat.

Krishna waved him off. "Details, Ram. Details."

Ram shook his head. "If you go into a sugar coma, I'm not carrying you back."

Krishna threw an arm around his brother's shoulder, grinning.

"You say that," he mused, "but we both know you'd do it anyway."

Ram sighed. Loudly.

"Sometimes, I wonder why I even bother."

Krishna only laughed, leading the way down the corridor—completely unfazed by everything that had just happened.

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