Episode 2 The contract

Isha sat curled on the bed, lost in the pages of her book when the door creaked open. A middle-aged woman walked in, holding a decorated thali — red lehenga, gold jewelry, and shagun.

“Isha, get up and get ready. It’s your wedding today,” the woman said, her voice stern.

Her heart skipped a beat.

“What?! Maa, what are you saying? I just turned eighteen! I want to study… I want to live my dreams—”

SLAP.

Her hazel eyes snapped open with a gasp.

It was just a dream.

A nightmare.

Sweat clung to her forehead. Her breath came in short, shaky gasps as the memory of last night came rushing back — the escape, the strangers, the mansion.

This mansion.

Silent.

Huge.

Dangerously beautiful.

Isha grabbed a vase for safety — just in case — and tiptoed out. The marble floors were cold beneath her feet, the chandelier above almost blinding. Is this even real? The place looked like something out of a royal fantasy. She wandered through its never-ending corridors, both amazed and terrified.

Until a few startled servants found her.

Moments later…

The man of the house stormed in.

Still drying his hair, shirt half-buttoned, yet still managing to look like he stepped straight out of a K-drama.

“Are you okay, Miss…?”

“Isha. My name is Isha. And yeah… I’m fine.”

She stared at him, expecting an introduction.

After a pause, his deep voice rumbled, “I’m Arnav. Arnav Singh Rathore.”

There was something magnetic about the way he said it. Dangerous. Powerful.

When he asked her why she had run in a wedding dress, her lips trembled. At first, she hesitated — but when he promised he’d help…

She broke down.

“My adoptive family… they sold me. In the name of marriage. I don’t even know the guy. They just wanted money. I just… I just want to study. That’s all I ever wanted.” Her voice cracked, tears glistening in her eyes.

Before he could respond, a bodyguard walked in and whispered something in Arnav’s ear.

“There’s an emergency. Stay here until I’m back,” he said, his tone clipped.

And just like that, he was gone.

He rushed straight to his lawyer.

“Tell me it’s not true, Varun,” Arnav growled.

The lawyer didn’t flinch. “It is. If you don’t get married now, your late mother’s property will go to charity.”

Anger boiled inside him.

No. Never. That property was his mother’s last memory.

He clenched his fists. Stormed to his mafia base.

Pulled the trigger again and again at the shooting wall until the entire domain trembled.

“The Tiger is angry…” his men whispered in fear.

Later that night, Arnav stood still, calm… deadly calm. He dialed Varun.

“Prepare a contract. I found the girl. I’m sending the details. I’m not letting go of what’s mine.”

Isha was growing restless in the mansion. A maid kept her company, but it didn’t help.

She just wanted to leave.

But when Arnav returned — he returned with purpose. And a file.

“Sign this,” he said. “Let’s get married.”

Her eyes widened.

“What the hell?! Are you out of your mind?!”

She turned to storm off — but in one swift move, he grabbed her wrist, twisted her arm behind her, pulling her flush against his chest.

His eyes darkened as they locked with hers.

It made him… weak.

He looked away. “It’s not a real marriage. Just a contract. Once you graduate, you’re free. I’ll fund your studies.”

“I don’t need your pity,” she snapped. “I already have a seat in Little Flower College.”

He smirked. “How about Green Land College? You know, India’s No.1.”

She paused. Considered. “Let me read it first.”

He let go.

She scanned the contract. No loopholes. No tricks. Just a cold, clean deal.

She signed.

He grinned — not out of happiness, but triumph. His mother's property was finally his.

“I want my own room,” she said, chin lifted like a queen.

“You can choose any. You’re the mistress now,” he said, his smirk not fading.

“Good. Then I’ll pick the sunniest one.”

She walked off with a maid, chose the room with the most light, and slammed the door shut.

Then screamed into her pillow.

“What is happening?! Is this real?! Am I dreaming?”

She pinched herself. Nope. Real.

“Oh my god. I’m in a contract marriage. With a hot and rich CEO?! This is like my K-drama fantasy on steroids!”

She giggled. Then caught herself.

“No. I can’t be weak. I’m not going to fall for him. I’m not going to be one of those girls.”

She crossed her arms, determined.

“I’m just here to study. Graduate. And leave. No heart flutters. No love triangles.”

She stared at the ceiling.

“And definitely no falling in love with Arnav Singh Rathore.”

But fate?

Does it have any other plans.

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