The glass walls of the Raizada Law chambers gleamed with the kind of authority that didn't need to be announced. The corridors were silent, except for the ticking of a designer clock mounted above a contemporary painting—something abstract, chaotic, almost violent in its brushwork. Fitting.
Saanvi's heels echoed sharply as she made her way toward Conference Room 4B, where the next war was scheduled to unfold.
Support the Story ✨ If my words made you blush, bite your lip, or whisper “just one more chapter”… you’re officially part of the chaos I call storytelling. Wanna help me write more heartbreak, heat, and happily-ever-afters (with a side of caffeine addiction)? You can now support my writing directly! Every little boost helps fuel late-night plot twists, stronger coffee, and the drama you secretly crave. Thanks for being here, darling. You’re my favorite chapter. 🤍 — Kiara Gilbert
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