The palace halls echoed with playful giggles as Aryan ran past the marble pillars, gripping a half-eaten chocolate bar and humming the jingle from his favorite cartoon. He was supposed to be in the courtyard for painting class with his tutor, but like always, curiosity got the better of him.

He slowed near the servant's corridor — a place he wasn't allowed to wander — because he heard something strange.

Two men in suits, speaking in hushed Hindi.

"—told you, Shivam Shekhawat is back. It's not safe for the Queen anymore."

"He's her brother-in-law, no? From her past?"

"No, he's her ex-fiancé's best friend's brother. And he blames her for ruining their legacy. Obsessed, dangerous... The King doesn't want the Queen to know yet."

Aryan frowned.

He didn't understand all the words, but he did catch one very clearly.

Shivam Shekhawat.

And they were talking about his Amma — Mayuri.

His chocolate fell to the ground, forgotten. His little heart thumped with anxiety, the kind he couldn't explain.

Later that evening, when Mayuri was busy organizing Aryan's school scrapbook and humming a sweet lullaby, Aryan quietly walked into the study where Veer was reading through thick, sealed files.

"Papa," he said seriously, his eyes too mature for a seven-year-old.

Veer looked up and smiled. "Aryan? What's up, champ?"

Aryan shut the door behind him — something he'd never done before.

"I want to tell you a secret. But you can't tell Amma."

Veer straightened, placing the file down. "Alright. Come here."

Aryan walked close and whispered, "I heard two uncles talk about someone. Shivam Shekhawat. They said he doesn't like Amma. And something about... her past. Is he a bad man?"

Veer froze.

The name hit him like a silent grenade.

Shivam Shekhawat.

He hadn't heard that name in years — not since London — not since Aidan Whitmore's inner circle had tried to sabotage Mayuri's career and character when she left him.

Veer pulled Aryan into his lap, trying to stay calm.

"Where did you hear this, Aryan?"

"Near the kitchen, behind the big clock room. I was eating chocolate," he admitted sheepishly, "but they didn't see me."

Veer gently held his son's face. "You did good, Aryan. But let's not tell Amma about this yet, okay?"

Aryan nodded seriously.

"But Papa... will you protect her?"

Veer's voice turned gravelly. "With my life."

He kissed Aryan's forehead, then signaled for his private guard through the intercom.

As Aryan left with a book and a smile, believing his Papa could fight dragons, Veer turned to his chief of security with steel in his tone.

"Track every movement of Shivam Shekhawat. I want details from the day he landed in India. If he's within 500 kilometers of this palace, I want him brought in — breathing or not."

A storm had arrived.

And this time, Veer Raj Singh Rathore was not going to let shadows from Mayuri's past hurt the family he built with love.

She hadn't meant to overhear.

Mayuri had walked toward Veer's study with a bowl of freshly cut mangoes and a playful plan to steal ten minutes of his time. But her feet slowed when she heard Aryan's voice from behind the door — urgent, serious, whispering words that no seven-year-old should know.

"Shivam Shekhawat... Amma... bad man..."

Her heartbeat staggered.

Her hand tightened around the silver tray, the mango bowl slightly trembling. She took a step back, placing it gently on the side table in the corridor. She didn't want to be seen. Not yet.

Veer's voice turned cold and dangerous — it wasn't the soft, teasing husband she knew. It was the protector, the ruler, the king.

"Track every movement... breathing or not."

Her breath caught.

Shivam Shekhawat.

A name she hadn't spoken in years.

A man she once called friend — a man who later stood next to Aidan Whitmore as they publicly shamed her. Who leaked her private dance recital videos, forged scandalous messages, manipulated investors to destroy her dance institute abroad. All because she chose to walk away from their darkness.

And now, he was back.

She didn't knock on the door. She didn't confront Veer. She simply turned around and walked away in silence, the sound of her bare feet echoing softly through the marbled corridors of the palace.

But inside her — a fire had already ignited.

⸻

That night, Mayuri didn't sleep.

As Veer wrapped his arms around her, exhausted from the weight of the day, she quietly stared at the ceiling, mind racing with memories, scars, and strategies.

By sunrise, the Queen of Udaipur was no longer just a loving mother or a graceful wife.

She was a woman who had been wronged. And now she was ready.

⸻

She made three calls before breakfast.

One to her childhood best friend Anvika, now a legal shark in Delhi.

Another to her cousin Major Rudra Pradhan, serving in Army Intelligence — the only family who believed her during the Aidan scandal.

And the third to her old dance assistant in London, Myra, who held the digital records of everything Shivam and Aidan did.

She didn't mention Veer. Not yet.

This was her battle. Her storm.

And she was going to face it — not as Queen — but as Mayuri Pradhan, daughter of the soil, woman of fire.

⸻

The twist came when Rudra's voice cracked slightly on the phone.

"Mayu... I need to tell you something. I've been holding it in for years."

She paused, spoon hovering over Aryan's oats.

"What is it?"

"It wasn't just Aidan and Shivam. Your friend Meenal — and my younger brother Rohan — they helped leak the files back then. For money."

Mayuri's world tilted for a second.

Meenal. Her soul sister. Rohan. Her blood.

The betrayal hit harder than anything Aidan ever did.

But she didn't scream. She didn't break down.

She simply stood, kissed Aryan on the forehead, and walked out to the balcony, phone in hand.

"Thank you for telling me," she said to Rudra calmly. "Now let me clean this up. My way."

⸻

That evening, Veer watched her from afar — the way she held herself, the calm silence, the faint steel in her eyes.

He walked up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. "You heard, didn't you?"

She nodded.

"Why didn't you say anything?"

She turned, pressed a kiss to his chest, and whispered, "Because I've lived through this fire before. I know how to walk barefoot through it now. But this time... I'll be the one holding the torch."

Veer looked into her eyes — proud, protective, and slightly worried. "Just don't do it alone."

She smiled faintly. "I won't. But first... let me show them who they messed with."