The grand Raj Sabha was more than a political affair — it was a symbolic gathering. Once a year, royal bloodlines and dignitaries across Rajasthan came together to celebrate legacy, honor, and future alliances.

This year, the spotlight wasn't just on the King of Udaipur.

It was on Queen Mayuri.

Veer had offered to cancel her appearance — but she had gently placed her hand over his, smiled with unflinching calm, and said, "Let me go. I have a few... ghosts to deal with."

He knew then — his Queen wasn't stepping back.

She was stepping into the fire.

⸻

The hall shimmered with golden chandeliers and silk drapes. Media cameras zoomed in to capture every breath. Royal daughters dressed in couture walked with' controlled grace.

But when Mayuri Pradhan entered...

The room went still.

She wore a deep crimson saree with a royal gold border, hand-embroidered with her family crest — the Pradhan lion. Her eyes were lined with kohl, and her walk was neither slow nor fast — it was measured. Regal.

People whispered.

"That's her... the queen who married with just thirty guests."

"The same woman whose ex created a scandal in London."

"And yet, look at her now."

But she wasn't here to impress.

She was here... to remind.

⸻

Standing near the entrance was her cousin Rohan Pradhan, wine glass in hand, laughing with the minister's son. He turned and froze when he saw her.

Mayuri didn't slow.

She walked up, chin held high, and greeted everyone politely. Then she turned to Rohan — her voice low, her eyes sharp.

"Your secrets are not secrets anymore, bhai."

The smile on his lips faltered.

Before he could respond, Meenal walked in — in a sea-green lehenga and heavy jewelry that couldn't mask her insecurity. She was now the social media manager of one of the political wives — and her return to the royal circle was purely strategic.

She didn't expect to see Mayuri.

She certainly didn't expect Mayuri to walk up to her and hug her.

Not warmly.

But publicly.

Strategically.

"Hello, Meenal," Mayuri said softly, her arms tightening just slightly, "Isn't it strange how snakes always slither back to the palace garden?"

Meenal's smile twitched. "I don't know what you mean."

"Oh, I think you do," Mayuri whispered in her ear, still smiling at the cameras. "And I'm giving you one last chance to leave with what's left of your name. Next time... it will be public."

Rohan stepped forward, trying to interfere, but Mayuri turned sharply, her voice like silk laced with fire.

"Careful, Rohan. That Pradhan blood in your veins won't protect you from the dirt you've rolled in."

The room quieted.

People began inching closer.

A reporter's mic was accidentally left on.

But Mayuri didn't flinch. She faced the crowd, eyes shining with unapologetic pride.

"I came tonight not to confront my past — but to embrace the present. I am the daughter of the Pradhan family. I am the mother of Prince Aryan Singh Rathore. And I am Queen to the King of Udaipur."

A pause. Her voice hardened.

"And if any of you still think you can tear a woman down by dragging her history through mud — you're wrong. Because we now write our stories in fire."

The crowd broke into a slow murmur — whispers turned to nods, and nods turned into applause. Rohan backed away. Meenal was pale. Cameras flashed — not in scandal, but in reverence.

Veer, watching from the far end of the room, raised his glass. He said nothing. But his smile said everything.

She wasn't just a Queen.

She was a reckoning.

The doors of Pradhan Global Headquarters hadn't witnessed such stillness in decades. Every floor, every corridor, every whisper of breath held one truth:

She was back.

And this time, not as the broken daughter who once walked away.

But as the Chairman and CEO of the empire her ancestors built.

⸻

Mayuri entered the boardroom dressed in a sharp ivory pantsuit, her sindoor shimmering subtly under the soft lighting. She walked ahead of her assistant, who held a neatly stacked file and an iPad, her heels echoing with precision.

Already seated were the other board members — loyalists, skeptics, and traitors alike.

At the far end, Rohan Pradhan sat with his usual smugness, flipping through documents. Beside him was Meenal, dressed in crisp corporate wear, her smirk not quite reaching her eyes.

When Mayuri stepped inside, Rohan leaned back, clapping mockingly.

"Well, well. The Queen of Udaipur now wants to run a business?"

Mayuri didn't flinch. She placed her bag on the head seat, pulled it out, and calmly sat down — her posture calm, spine straight, gaze icy.

"I didn't want to," she said softly, "But your incompetence forced my hand."

Gasps.

Meenal scoffed. "This isn't a palace where you give orders in silk sarees, Mayuri. This is business."

Mayuri looked at her. "Exactly. Which is why emotional blackmail, fake account movements, and ghost employees will no longer be part of our operations."

She slid a folder toward the board. Inside it — printouts, screenshots, and forensic audit reports.

Rohan's face stiffened.

Meenal leaned forward to grab one — and her hands shook.

"You hacked us?" Meenal growled.

"I audited the company," Mayuri replied calmly, "because I own it."

She opened another document — the formal transfer of chairmanship from her father, Mr. Pratap Pradhan, with his signature and the Board of Trustees' approval.

"Effective today," Mayuri continued, "you, Rohan, are demoted to Vice-President, Operations. Meenal, you are on administrative probation pending internal inquiry. You'll vacate your seats by the end of this meeting."

"This is absurd!" Rohan thundered, standing up. "You think you can walk in here with your royal attitude and throw us out like we're dust?"

Mayuri stood too, slowly. Her gaze pierced right through him.

"I'm not throwing you out like dust, bhaiya. I'm just removing the termites before the structure collapses."

Rohan lunged forward, voice rising. "You were gone! You abandoned everything for a man—"

Mayuri's voice sliced through the tension like glass.

"No, I abandoned everything because I was broken. But I healed. And now I've returned — not just as Veer's wife, but as Pratap Pradhan's daughter."

Silence.

Everyone looked between the siblings.

Meenal, red with anger, stood next to Rohan. "You think you're the savior? You think people will just obey you?"

Mayuri walked over to the projector. She connected her iPad and displayed numbers, growth charts, international tie-ups, and recent board approvals — all already in motion.

"I don't need them to obey me. I need them to see results. And they already are."

⸻

She then turned to the rest of the board.

"You trusted my family for decades. I will not let you down. I may wear a crown at home, but here, I wear responsibility. We are not just a family company anymore — we are a global force. And anyone standing in the way of that growth will be removed, no matter their last name."

Applause slowly began to echo around the table. One by one, the silent board members nodded. Loyalty was returning — not to her name, but to her strength.

Mayuri looked once more at Rohan and Meenal.

"This is your last warning. Cross the line again... and I won't be this kind."

⸻

Later that evening, Veer wrapped his arms around her as she stood on the balcony, staring at the city skyline.

"How does it feel?" he asked, kissing her temple.

She leaned against him, smiling.

"Like I just roared... after years of silence."