The distant hum of a violin orchestra played through the grand ballroom. The scent of expensive cologne, aged whiskey, and something distinctly suffocating—responsibility—hung in the air muffled by the thick wooden walls of the private office where he sat.

The golden chandeliers outside dripped in wealth, the laughter of high society mingling with the sound of crystal glasses clinking, but in here?

In here, reality bled through the polished illusion.

The door swung open, and Yuvraj Oberoi strode in, looking one wrong word away from murder.

Danish Malhotra didn't even flinch. He remained still, one leg crossed over the other, swirling the whiskey in his glass with practiced ease.

He didn't need to look to know who had just barged in. He barely lifted his gaze from the glass in his hand, lazily swirling the amber liquid before taking a sip.

"Fucking hell," he muttered, grabbing the bottle from the table and pouring himself a drink.

One thing the world didn't know was that Danish Malhotra and Yuvraj Oberoi weren't just two powerful names standing on opposite ends of the battlefield.

To the public, they barely acknowledged each other, sometimes even exchanged cold stares or nodded at each other that hinted at rivalry. Some whispered about silent competition, others speculated about bad blood.

But behind closed doors?

They drank their sorrows together.

The backstage office was dimly lit, the heavy curtains muffling the golden glow from the grand chandeliers outside. The music of the ball played faintly in the background, a symphony for the people who had no idea that two of the most powerful heirs in the room were tucked away, drowning their burdens in aged whiskey.

Yuvraj leaned back against the leather couch, one hand gripping his glass while the other ran through his hair in frustration. Danish sat across from him, a picture of ease, one leg crossed over the other, watching Yuvraj with an almost bored expression.

"You look like you're about to murder someone," Danish mused, taking a slow sip of his drink.

"Don't tempt me, I might just murder you by choking your neck with my bare hands" Yuvraj muttered.

"I didn't know you were into choking, kinky Oberoi" Danish said but Yuvraj only groaned. "Lemme guess?" he said, his voice dry, laced with the exhaustion of someone who had long since stopped being surprised. "Mrs. Oberoi problems?"

Yuvraj Oberoi didn't answer. He just stepped forward, snatched the bottle from Danish's hand, and took a long, burning sip.

Danish raised a brow. "That bad, huh?" Danish watched him for a moment before leaning back, stretching his legs out in front of him. "Then don't."

Yuvraj turned his head, eyes narrowing. "Don't what?"

"Don't do it. Walk away."

Yuvraj let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. "You think it's that easy?" He looked at the bottle in his hand for a second before gripping it tighter. "You have no idea," Yuvraj muttered, collapsing onto the couch across from him, his shoulders heavy with an invisible weight.

A long pause settled between them, filled only by the occasional clink of glass and the quiet hum of the city beyond the window.

"I don't even want this fucking empire," Yuvraj admitted, his voice quiet, like the words had been locked inside him for years, waiting for the right moment to break free.

Danish leaned back in his chair, studying him. "Then let your sister handle it."

"I wish I could," Yuvraj scoffed, shaking his head. "But my mom would never let her. You don't get it."

Danish let out a humorless chuckle, tilting his head back against the chair. "Oh yeah, I really can't get it because Mommy and Daddy Dearest are just parents in name."

Yuvraj let out a sharp breath, nodding slightly. Danish wasn't wrong.

"Her name is Kiara, I presume?" Danish asked, already knowing the answer.

Yuvraj was still as if he wanted to keep her as a secret from the world and especially me. Then, slowly, he nodded.

Danish hummed, swirling the whiskey in his glass again. He had figured as much

Yuvraj exhaled deeply, rubbing his temple. "Mom has crafted her into a puppet. She favors me more than her, and no matter how much I try, I can't help her. And when I do—" He stopped, his grip tightening around the glass.

"She just hurts Kiara more."

Danish didn't say anything, just listened. He stayed quiet, letting the weight of the words settle. He didn't need to ask what hurt meant.

"So if I leave this all behind," Yuvraj continued, his voice barely above a whisper, "I would be leaving Kiara behind too. And that—I just can't afford to."

Danish let out a slow breath, his gaze steady. "So you love her that much? Enough to endure all of this suffering?"

Yuvraj's jaw clenched. "Till the end."

Danish watched him for a moment before asking, "Without her knowing?"

A dry, almost bitter smile ghosted over Yuvraj's lips. "You know why I won't." He leaned back, staring at the ceiling as if the answer were written there. "That's our curse of being the ghar ke bade bete." His voice turned distant. "I love her so much that she doesn't have to know about my sacrifices."

Danish's fingers drummed lightly against the armrest. He had heard this story before—different characters, same tragedy.   "She's just a weakness of yours, Yuvraj," Danish said, his voice flat. "And your mother is using her against you."

Yuvraj let out a low, humorless chuckle. "I know."   And with that, he lifted the bottle again, tilting it back and drowning himself in another long, burning drink.

"You do realise she hates you?" Danish said, knowing all kinds of rumours in the air. Yuvraj didn't say anything but he was hurt, it could be seen in eyes.

"Maybe it's better this way. No one will target her if they think that I don't care about her. She will be safer this way and mom won't be able to use her against me." He finally said the reason why he always ignored Kiara in public or never acknowledged her.

Danish stared at him, then took a slow sip of his whiskey. "Damn. That's some top-tier emotional damage right there."

Yuvraj rolled his eyes. "Shut up."

Danish just grinned, raising his glass. "To being the eldest sons of really shitty families."

Yuvraj clinked his bottle against Danish's glass, took another long sip, and muttered, "Fucking cheers."

Danish smirked, but just as he was about to speak, something caught his eye.

Or rather, someone.

A presence lingered outside the door. She thought she was being discreet—watching, listening—but she wasn't. Danish recognized that shadow in an instant.

Kiara Oberoi.

Her posture was stiff, her back pressed against the wall, as if debating whether to enter. She had been sent to relay a message, no doubt, probably from the esteemed Mrs. Oberoi herself. But she hadn't moved yet.

Danish clicked his tongue in irritation.

"How annoying," he muttered, swirling the whiskey in his glass. "There's a rat outside."

Inside the office, Yuvraj barely reacted, too used to Danish's dramatics. Outside, however—

The reaction was instant. A soft gasp. The unmistakable sound of hurried footsteps.

Yuvraj raised a brow, but Danish barely held back a laugh as he heard her scrambling away.

Kiara Oberoi hated rats.

So much for discretion.

Yuvraj sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "That's not a rat. That's my sister."

Danish leaned back in his chair, his smirk deepening. "Oh? Should I get rid of it for you?"

Yuvraj's brows furrowed. "What the hell are you talking about—"

Danish tilted his head toward the now-empty hallway. "Your sister. She was eavesdropping."  Danish's smirk widened. So predictable.

Yuvraj immediately sat up, his gaze darting toward the door as if he could still catch sight of her. But she was already gone.

The room turned eerily silent.

Yuvraj shifted, his expression darkening as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His next words were calm—too calm.

"Lay a finger on her," he said, voice steady, "and I will make you watch the entire Malhotra empire burn to the ground."

Danish chuckled, unfazed. "Friends or not?"

Yuvraj lifted his glass, tilting it slightly in Danish's direction before taking a sip. "Friends or not." Yuvraj added, finally smiling—except it wasn't friendly.

Danish simply laughed, shaking his head as he reached for his drink again.

"Fair enough."

But there was one thing Yuvraj didn't know.

He had no idea what his sister had done tonight.

And something told me...

This was only the beginning.

Next thing I knew was I sat slouched in the leather chair opposite my father the following morning, pretending to care about whatever he was about to say. I never liked my father's office. The cold, gray walls. The polished mahogany desk that probably cost more than most people's yearly salaries and so pristine it looked like no one had ever dared to touch it. It was as lifeless as the man sitting behind it, his neatly combed hair and tailored suit screaming control freak  Classic Virendra Malhotra.

"Danish," he began,  "Why don't we make a deal?"  his voice as smooth as the imported scotch he nursed every evening.

I raised an eyebrow, leaning back lazily. "What kind of deal, old man?"  already tired of this conversation before it even began.

"Yes," he replied, leaning forward, his hands clasped together like a lawyer delivering his closing argument. Then He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose like he always did when I annoyed him. "You go to this university—quietly."

"Quietly?" I repeated, smirking.

"No drama, no gossip, no scandals," he clarified, fixing me with a sharp look. "Get through your course without making headlines, Graduate with a clean slate, and after that, you take over the business."

That got my attention but I scoffed, leaning back in the chair that was far too uncomfortable for its price tag."Are you sure about that? You really want to hand over your precious company to the bastard son?"

His jaw tightened for a fraction of a second, but then he sighed again. but he kept his composure. He always did."Danish, just go. Please."

Ah, the magic word: please.

It wasn't often I heard my father resort to begging, and for that alone, I decided to humor him because It wasn't often I heard the great Virendra Malhotra say please.That was probably the closest I'd get to an apology for the years of being treated like an inconvenient afterthought.

"Fine," I said, standing up and adjusting my watch. "But don't expect me to last longer than a day."

He didn't reply, just waved a dismissive hand as if to say, Get out of my sight before I regret this.

────────────────୨ৎ────────────────

The drive to the university was uneventful, aside from the fact that my driver, Ramesh, seemed to think that driving at the speed of a snail was appropriate. I was half a second away from taking the wheel myself when my phone buzzed. The screen lit up with my cousin Akaay's name.

"Don't even start, Akaay," I said as soon as I picked up.

"Oh, I wasn't planning to start, dear cousin," Akaay replied, his voice dripping with fake hurt. "But I couldn't help but notice you didn't call to thank me for getting your work done last night. I mean, I slaved away, pulling strings, making calls—"

"You sent one text," I cut in. "Let's not exaggerate."

"I sent three, actually," he corrected, his tone scandalized. "Three texts. And yet, no gratitude. I'm hurt, Danish. Deeply."

I rolled my eyes, already regretting answering. "I knew you'd get it done, Akaay. Why would I waste my time confirming something I already knew the result of?"

"Still, a little gratitude wouldn't kill you," he shot back, his voice dripping with fake disappointment. "Do you know how much effort it took to wipe all the security footage from last night's ball? And to make sure no one talked about Your new girlfriend?" Akaay drawled. "Your confidence in me is touching. Almost as touching as the scene at the ball last night."

I smirked, reclining in my seat. "New girlfriend? I think you've got the wrong guy."

"Oh, don't play dumb," Akaay said, cackling on the other end. "The crazy Oberoi girl who declared her undying love for you in front of half the city? Ring any bells. Quite the romantic moment, don't you think?"

I pinched the bridge of my nose, the memory flashing in my mind.

"Romantic?" I repeated, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "I think delusional is the word you're looking for."

Akaay laughed. "Oh, come on. You have to admit, it was entertaining. The way she said it—so dramatic, like a heroine in one of those over-the-top Bollywood movies. 'I love that guy, and he's my boyfriend!'"

I groaned. "Do you have to say it like that?"

"I'm just quoting her," he said, clearly enjoying himself. "I mean, how often do you get a public confession of love from a girl you've never met? That's some next-level stuff, Danish. You should be flattered."

"I'm not," I muttered,  remembering the look on her face when she realized I'd heard her little performance. "That wasn't love, Akaay. That was desperation. She needed to get rid of that Rahul guy, so she used me as an escape plan."

"And you just happened to help her?" he teased.

I smirked. "Let's just say I was in the right place at the right time."

"Sure you were," Akaay drawled. "So, what's the plan now? Gonna turn this into one of your little games?"

"Games?" I repeated innocently. "Akaay, I'm a changed man. My father told me to stay away from drama."

"And yet here you are, smack in the middle of some very delicious drama," he said with a laugh. "You know, if the Oberois find out you helped their little princess, they might actually send you a thank-you card Or poison."

I snorted. "I'll take my chances."

There was a pause before Akaay added, his tone turning sly, "So... what's she like? The crazy bitch of the Oberois, I mean. Must've made an impression if you're talking about her this much."

"She's..." I trailed off, thinking about the way she glared at me like she wanted to set me on fire. "Interesting."

"Oh, interesting," Akaay said, dragging out the word like he'd just uncovered my deepest secret. "You like her, don't you?"

I rolled my eyes. "I don't like her, Akaay. I just think she's... amusing."

"Amusing," he repeated, his tone dripping with skepticism. "Well, good luck, cousin. Something tells me this Oberoi girl is going to be more trouble than she's worth."

Trouble. Yeah, she probably was. But as I stared out the window, watching the university gates come into view, I couldn't help but smirk.

Trouble has always been my favorite game. And Kiara Oberoi? She might just be my favorite challenge yet.

Akaay said cheerfully. "If she ever writes you one of those cheesy love letters, I want to see it."

"Stop," I said, though I couldn't help the faint chuckle that escaped me. "Besides, I already told her not to do anything crazy like writing me a love letter in blood."

Akaay choked on his laughter. "Wait—did you actually say that to her?"

"Yeah," I replied, smirking again at the memory of her reaction. "I told her I wouldn't want her 'pretty ass' to be in pain."

Akaay burst into uncontrollable laughter. "You're unbelievable. You might've just scared her off forever."

"Good," I said, though the thought didn't sit as well with me as it should've. "Less drama for me to deal with."

"Drama?" Akaay teased. "You? Please. You thrive on it. I'm betting you'll run into her again before the week is out. And when you do, please record it. For me."

"Goodbye, Akaay," I said, hanging up before he could say anything else.

As soon as I hung up, my phone rang again, Akaay's name flashing across the screen. I sighed and answered. "What now?"

"Where are you going, though?" he asked, his tone nosy and far too excited for my liking.

"Daddy dearest proposed a deal and wait are you tracking my location?" I replied dryly.

"Yes and Let me guess , The university one?" Akaay asked, clearly knowing more than he let on.

I hummed in confirmation, keeping my eyes on the passing cityscape outside the car window.

"I got the same one. So, are you gonna accept it?" he pressed, his tone shifting to curiosity.

"Why should I?" I said, deadpan.

"Because you'll get the company," Akaay said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

I smirked. "That's something I'll get anyway. So why bother putting myself through the pain of this university drama? Plus," I added with a shrug, "if I wanted a degree so badly, I could just buy one. Right amount of money, right connections—it's not that hard."

Akaay laughed, a loud, unrestrained sound. "God, you're such a spoiled bastard sometimes, you know that?"

"Comes with the title," I shot back.

"So, what's the name of this prestigious institution you're gracing with your presence?" Akaay asked, still chuckling.

I gave him the name, already regretting it as the words left my mouth.

"Interesting," Akaay said after a pause, his tone suddenly... too interested.

"What?" I asked, narrowing my eyes even though he couldn't see me.

"Nothing," he replied innocently. "Just make sure you spend some time around the Business Economics department. You'll find it... enlightening.

"Why do you sound like you know something I don't?" I asked, narrowing my eyes even though he couldn't see me.

"Danish," Akaay said, his voice almost gleeful, "I always know things you don't."

"Akaay," I started, suspicion creeping into my voice.

"Bye, bhai," he said quickly, hanging up before I could press him further.

And with that, he hung up before I could ask anything else.

I stared at my phone, frowning. Akaay was up to something. I could feel it. Whatever it was, it was bound to make this university stint even more unbearable.

Great. Just what I needed.

As if the mess with Kiara Oberoi wasn't bad enough.

As the car pulled up to the university gates, I couldn't help but scoff internally. This place was all shiny exteriors and manufactured prestige—exactly the kind of place my father would think highly of. A waste of time, I thought, stepping out of the car.

She was seated behind a desk that was way too big for one person, typing away on her computer like it was the center of the universe. When she finally noticed me, she straightened, her smile overly professional.  "Good morning. How can I help you?"

"Danish Malhotra," I said simply.

She typed something into her system, nodded, and then said, "Ah, yes. Mr. Malhotra. You're early for your orientation. Please take a seat, and someone will be with you shortly."

A humorless laugh escaped me before I could stop it.

Take a seat? I don't wait. People wait for me.

Her polite smile faltered just a fraction, but before I could say something sarcastic and start the drama I was so tempted to unleash, I remembered Akaay's last words to me: Make sure you go to the Business Economics department. You'll find it... enlightening.

I sighed. Akaay and his cryptic nonsense. It was probably

a setup, knowing him. Some unnecessary prank or another attempt to make my life miserable. But curiosity got the better of me.

"Actually," I said, fixing the receptionist with my most charming smile, "can you point me toward the Business Economics department? Might as well check it out while I'm waiting."

The receptionist looked momentarily confused but quickly composed herself. "Of course, sir. It's in Building C, second floor, to your left."

"Great," I said, turning on my heel before she could ask any more questions.

I followed the path she outlined, taking in the spotless corridors and framed photos of past overachievers. The Business Economics wing was tucked away toward the far end of the building. The walk to Building C was uneventful, save for the occasional stare from students who clearly recognized me—or rather, the Malhotra name. I ignored them, my steps deliberate, even though I couldn't shake the feeling that this was a waste of time.

As I turned the corner, I caught sight of a group of girls clustered together near one of the benches, laughing and gossiping loudly. The noise grated on my nerves immediately, but my attention was drawn to the figure seated at the edge of their group.

She was different or maybe she looked different to me. Her head was bent over a thick book, her pen moving quickly across the page. She didn't so much as glance at the chaos happening around her.

Kiara Oberoi.

Even though I'd only met her last night, there was no mistaking her. This was the same girl who had declared her supposed love for me in front of a ballroom full of people less than 24 hours ago. And yet, here she was, looking nothing like the dramatic, lovestruck mess I'd imagined. The same sharp features, the same cascade of dark, wavy hair, and that same stubbornly focused expression she'd had when she was trying to talk herself out of her ridiculous declaration at the ball.

I stopped in my tracks, leaning casually against the wall as I watched her. Her friends were still busy with their gossip, oblivious to the fact that Kiara wasn't paying them the slightest bit of attention. It was fascinating, really. She looked like she didn't belong with them at all, like she'd been dropped into their world by mistake.

And yet, she didn't seem out of place either.

I caught myself smirking. Of course, Akaay's little suggestion had led me to her. The bastard probably knew exactly what he was doing.

For a moment, I considered leaving, walking away before she noticed me. But then I remembered the way she'd looked at me last night—equal parts fear and defiance—and the words she'd said.  "I love that guy, and he's my boyfriend."  or something similar. You get my point.

The memory made my smirk widen. Maybe this wasn't a waste of time after all.

Pushing off the wall, I started walking toward her, hands casually stuffed into my pockets. Time to see just how much chaos this Oberoi girl could cause.

"Ahh, Kiara," I said as I approached her, my voice deliberately loud enough for her and her group to hear. "What a pleasure seeing you here."

Her friend circle stopped gossiping the moment they noticed me. Instead, they were now biting their lips, nudging each other, and exchanging glances as if trying to suppress laughter. Oh, they were thrilled. Nothing like a little unexpected drama to spice up their day, huh?

Kiara, meanwhile, froze. The book in her hands slipped through her fingers and hit the desk with a soft thud. I couldn't help the smirk that tugged at my lips. Did she recognize my voice already? How cute.

I bent down to pick it up, only for her to do the same, and our heads collided. "Ow!" she exclaimed, rubbing her forehead.

"Careful, sweetheart," I said, already enjoying myself. "You'll give yourself a concussion."

"I told you not to call me—"

She trailed off as my hand brushed against hers on the book. Neither of us moved. I raised an eyebrow, amused when she didn't pull away either. Her lips parted slightly, like she wanted to say something, but her friends weren't about to let that happen.

"Wow," one of her friends whispered, loud enough for both of us to hear. "This is straight out of a rom-com."

"Next thing you know, he'll be tucking her hair behind her ear," another one said, barely containing her laughter.

"Actually, I was about to," I said, giving them more drama to talk about.

"Do we need to cue background music?" another teased, trying to stifle her giggles.

"Shut up," Kiara hissed, her cheeks turned an adorable shade of pink as she quickly pulled her hand back and straightened up. "What are you doing here?" she blurted out, clearly flustered.

"Oh, here I thought you missed me, sweetheart," I said, standing up and handing her the book. "I'm offended."

"Don't call me sweetheart," she snapped, but the way her friends were grinning behind her made me think she wasn't as annoyed as she pretended to be.

"Okay, then," I said with a shrug, enjoying how flustered she looked. "Shall we talk about the explanation you were supposed to give me the next time we met? Aka, right now?"

Kiara blinked at me, clearly caught off guard. "H-haha, I was kidding! No explanation needed!" She forced a nervous laugh, waving her hands as if to erase the conversation altogether. "You can keep calling me sweetheart if you want. Totally fine with it. No issues. Let's move on!"

Her friends didn't even try to hold back their laughter this time.

"She caved so fast!" one of them whispered.

"I didn't cave!" Kiara snapped, turning to glare at them.

I tilted my head, enjoying the chaos. "You're not getting out of this that easily, Kiara."

"Kiara," one of her friends whispered loudly. "This is so good. Like, we might be witnessing the birth of enemies-to-lovers right now."

"I don't want to be part of any enemies-to-lovers narrative!" Kiara hissed, glaring at her friends.

"Oh, but you already are," I chimed in, smirking. "And you're doing a great job, sweetheart."

Her cheeks turned an even deeper shade of red. "What do you want, Danish?"

"What I want," I said slowly, tapping the book she was trying to snatch back from me, "is an explanation for what happened at the ball. You know, the part where you declared your undying love for me in front of everyone?" I raised an eyebrow, amused. "You know, for someone who claims not to like me calling her sweetheart yet blushing every single time, you're making this very confusing."

"Don't confuse me with logic right now!" she said, her tone bordering on desperation. "Fine!" she said abruptly, stepping back and holding the book in front of her like a shield. "You'll get your explanation. Just... not now."

"Soon?" I pressed, smirking.

"Sure," she muttered, not meeting my eyes. "Soon."

"Good." I straightened up, shoving my hands into my pockets. "Looking forward to it, sweetheart."

As I turned to leave, I could still hear her friends laughing behind me, their commentary following.

"He's so into her," one said.

"Right? The way he looks at her?"

"And she's trying so hard not to faint. Did you see her face?"

"This is so much better than the gossip we were talking about before," one of them whispered, not even bothering to hide her grin.

"Agreed," another added. "Honestly, Kiara, you're providing us with premium entertainment today."

The principal came storming down the hall like he'd just received word that the building was on fire. His bald head glistened under the fluorescent lights, his tie slightly askew, and he looked every bit like a man who'd just remembered his worst nightmare was now walking through his university. His eyes locked onto me, and I casually leaned against the desk at reception, looking as bored as possible.

"Sir! Sir, why are you standing? Please, sit down, sir!" he exclaimed, his voice laced with both urgency and deference.

I raised an eyebrow, amused. "Your staff told me to wait," I replied coolly, gesturing toward the flustered receptionist behind me.

"She's been fired!" he declared, glaring at the poor woman like she'd committed treason.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Kiara's reaction. Her head snapped up from her book, and her mouth hung open in pure disbelief. Her wide, curious eyes flicked between me and the principal, probably trying to make sense of what she was witnessing.

"Shall we go talk in my office, sir?" the principal asked, his tone almost pleading.

"Sure," I said, glancing back at Kiara. I caught her looking at me, still gaping like I'd just announced I was a foreign diplomat or something. Smirking, I added, "Oh, and before I go... see you next week, sweetheart."

Her jaw dropped, her confusion morphing into an expression that could only be described as murderous.

As we made our way to the office, the receptionist was packing her things, her hands trembling as she shoved papers into a box. I stopped, watching her for a moment.

"Don't fire her," I said offhandedly, not even breaking my stride.

The principal nodded instantly. "Of course, sir."

The receptionist stammered a thank-you as I walked away, the principal practically tripping over himself to lead me to his office.

The second we entered the office, I didn't wait for an invitation. I walked straight to the oversized leather chair behind his desk—the chair clearly reserved for him—and sank into it as if I owned the place.

The principal hesitated, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. He finally settled for standing awkwardly in front of the desk, clutching his hands together like he was bracing for bad news.

The principal, visibly flustered, stood by the door. "Sir, did you enjoy the brief tour?"

"I did," I replied, my tone casual. "Now, tell me—what procedures do I need to follow to get enrolled here?"

He blinked, his face a mix of confusion and disbelief. "Sir, your documents are already processed. Just sign here." He slid a form across the desk toward me.

I skimmed it briefly before signing. "Anything else I need to do?"

The principal hesitated, clearly unsure of how to proceed. "Is there... anything else I can do for you, sir?"

I leaned forward, steepling my fingers. "Oh, yes. Tell me everything you know about Kiara Oberoi."

His mouth fell open slightly, but the hesitation lasted only a second. He knew better than to question me. "Miss Oberoi?"

"Yes, the one with the book," I said, leaning back in his chair.

The principal's jaw dropped slightly, and for a moment, he looked like he didn't know whether to faint or laugh. But when I raised an eyebrow, his professionalism kicked in. He cleared his throat and began to speak.

"Youngest daughter of the Oberoi family," he started, his tone cautious. "Top of her class for years. Consistently the best in academics and extracurriculars. Hates being second and will do anything to stay at the top."

I smirked. Ambitious. Predictable. Easy to rile up.

"She's head of debate, MUN, and several other activities. Her mother has been trying to get her into cheerleading as well, though it seems she's resisted so far. Best resume I've ever seen for someone her age. though Miss Oberoi seems less enthusiastic about it."

I raised an eyebrow. "Go on."

"She has a natural knack for business," he continued, "but, uh..." He trailed off, as if unsure whether to continue.  "Oh, and she absolutely hates it when someone beats her in marks."

At that, my smirk widened. Perfect.

A slow grin spread across my face. "Does she now?"

In that moment, I realized exactly how I could get under her skin. If I wanted to throw her off her game, all I had to do was beat her at her own.

I stood, buttoning my jacket, and headed toward the door. "That'll be all."

"Sir, do you need anything else—?"

I said, heading for the door. "Let me know if there's any other information I should have."

"Yes, sir!"

As I reached the door, I turned back, giving him one last smirk. "One more thing—if you tell her about this conversation, you'll regret it."

The color drained from his face as he stammered, "Of course not, sir!"

I left the office, my mind already buzzing with plans. If Kiara Oberoi hated being second, I was going to make sure she got very familiar with the feeling.

All I had to do was beat her in academics.

And luckily for me, I was really good at being the best.