-• my life insurance •-

[the day of his landing]

Rudra

There are two kind of people in this world; one, who have the drive to do something in life but not a plan and two, who have the drive as well as the plan. I'm the kind who has the drive, a plan, and a plan B.

Taranya Singh Chauhan is my plan B. She is my life insurance. And I believe I've already paid my first premium that night. She'll be the one reparing all the damages I might have to endure in future.

After getting down the jet, a sight in red stands by the car, ready to escort me to her boss.

"My lovely grandfather will be hurt if he finds out I met the Chauhans first," I feign a pitiful tone, placing a hand on my chest for extra effects.

She rolls her eyes and opens the door. "Get in the car, Shourya."

I chuckle and slip in, getting comfortable and relaxed. I'm severely jet lagged.

Initially, I was hoping to catch some rest before meeting the Crown Prince of Jaigarh, but since he's so impatient, may as well go and see what he has to say. Zoya, his secretary slash bodyguard settles down on the driver's seat and the door slams shut before the engine revs to life and the car wheels out of the airport.

"Is it so important?"

"It must be." She mutters, driving efficiently through the growing traffic.

"How does it feel to be always out of the loop?" I muse thoughtfully.

"How does it feel to be always used?" She counters, shooting me a victorious smirk from the rear view mirror. I clench my jaw, plastering a sweet, fake smile on my face before I drop the conversation and look outside the window.

The black Mercedes enters the driveway of Chauhan estate, roofed by tall trees, floored with rough gravelly path that forms a Y, the right of which leads to the palace and the left, to the hotel, restaurant and a museum. We take the right and pass multiple gardens, plain vast fields and artfully crafted water fountains before finally stopping at the porch.

An attendee rushes down the flight of stairs to open the door for me. "Good afternoon, your highness," I nod back and step forward, stuffing my hands in the pockets of my jacket as I look up at the palace through my lens.

It's rare for me to step in here from the front doors. I've always sneaked in from the tunnels and secret hideaways, like a rodent. It feels good to enter this place with an identity, with a name that everyone knows, respects, envies. Even if it's not my own, it feels like my own, because I deserve it more than anyone else. I deserve everything that I want.

"C'mon," Zoya instructs and takes the lead. I let her, pretending I haven't been here hundred of times before. Yet the deeper I walk in, the pretense fades. Because I've never been here in a broad daylight before, I've never walked these hallways as confidently as I'm now. I was always worried about getting caught in the CCTV. This place never welcomed me as a guest, rather as a dirty secret, something that cannot be exposed to the world, but cannot be discarded yet, for there's time before it's completely used, exhausted and emptied.

The realisation stops me in the middle of the living room and I look around the rich allure of this place.

She got this so easily.

Despite being abandoned like me, she got this so easily.

Like she always belonged here.

Like she was meant to be here.

Like she deserved this.

Did I not?

We share the same fate. If she's the illegitimate child, I'm the child of an illegitimate son. Then how come I ended up like this? How come two people with same fate can have so contrasting lives? How come her innocence stayed with her while mine was snatched from me even after I fought so hard to protect it?

She was blessed before she even learned to pray and I was cursed despite offering countless prayers to Him.

How can I be fair to the world, when it was never fair to me? I can't. I won't.

"Shourya?" My eyes shift to Zoya, she stands there expectantly, confusion swirling in her dark brown eyes. "Let's go, he's waiting." And she turns, walking inside deeper. I follow her.

A few minutes later, we reach Yuvraaj's office. Zoya knocks on the door twice and after receiving a curt response, she opens the door to let him know I'm here.

"Send him in." I hear him say.

Zoya opens the door wider and steps aside, nodding at me to enter the room. I walk in, glancing back when the door shuts, then look at the man seated on his high chair behind a slick black desk.

"What is it?" I pull a chair for myself and sit down.

He opens a drawer on his left and produces a white envelope from inside before slapping it on my end of the desk. I pick it up and flip over the opening end, squinting inside to see a bunch of photographs. As I tilt it to the gravity, they slip out on my palm. Putting away the empty envelope aside, I look through the photos of four unfamiliar men, but their professional coats give them away.

"Third floor?" I cock a brow at him.

He nods. "One of them went missing last Saturday."

I go through the photos once again and spot a red cross at the corner of one photograph. "This one?" I turn it around for him to see. The name behind reads Shlok Mehta.

He hums, his elbows propped on the handrest of the chair, fingers tapping rhythmically.

"You think he turned his back on them?" I speculate hesitantly.

His hands drop and he leans in, shrugging in response. "That's a possibility. But we cannot be too sure. They might have had a fallout over something entirely different, maybe it was a personal reason."

"Personal reason?"

"He recently found out his wife is having an affair."

"And that convinced him to go AWOL for a week?" I twist my lips, uncertainty shining through my words. "Doesn't sound enough of a reason to pull such kind of stunt." I put forward my point.

"True, but that'd be if he didn't love his wife."

"Wait," I sit straight. "Don't tell me she was having an affair with one of these three?" I scatter the remaining three pictures.

Yuvraaj smirks. "She was."

"And he found out, and threatened to expose them?" I make a wild guess.

"A possibility." He gets up from the chair and rounds the desk. "But do you think someone will take his word for it?"

"He has something against them." I reason.

"You're getting there." Yuvraaj nods, sounding impressed. "He must have something against them for them to react so hastily."

"Hastily? Does that mean this did not reach the Chairman's desk yet?" I raise a curious brow.

"It did. But late."

I nod. The Chairman is a man of control. His word must go. He makes the decisions, he writes the rules and all he expects for other people is to follow them. For this third floor trio to get rid of their partner of so many years so quickly must mean they were afraid to waste even a second of their time.

"But are you sure they killed him off?" I turn the chair to face him as he leans against the side of the desk. "And he didn't just commit suicide or ran off to find an escape after learning of his wife's affair?"

"I crossed off that possibility after finding out it was his wife who launched the missing complaint." He replies. "Her statement read that he was depressed and schizophrenic. She even had the reports ready, along with the diagnosis slip and his medication. As per her, he was hiding it from the world so his job isn't put at risk."

"Yup, that gave her away." I nod. There's no way the Chairman will have someone she claimed her husband was handling his precious third floor. "When did my lovely grandfather found out about this?"

"When they realised the higher authorities are too much for them to handle." He avers.

"So, he's dead. But where's the body?" I open the strings of the case file and read through the huge paragraphs. "He's still missing." I conclude.

"If we could get our hands on the body, it'd really help us." He murmurs under his breath. "Anyway, for now, I want you to look for the evidence."

I frown. "What? How am I supposed to do that? For all we know, they might have already got rid of it."

"They didn't." He shakes his head. "I managed to get my hands on his phone and from his last conversation with the three, he was all set out to expose them. He's keeping it safe somewhere, with someone"

"Can I get his phone? I'll have Yara fetch the deleted messages and media." I hold out my hand expectantly.

"I only had it for a day. If the Chairman finds out I'm taking an interest in the case, he'll have more than enough reasons to make me step down the position of director."

I roll my eyes. "Yeah, as if no one in that hospital utters a word without your permission."

"You never know when a namesake title brings me the real power. I need to keep the throne to win the crown." He states, looking down at me pridefully. It's atrocious how much power he has, and yet he's always hungry for more. If he ever asks me to look in the mirror, I'd just look into his eyes.

"Alright, I'll look through things that are in my reach. But I can't promise you anything solid."

He nods, understanding my dilemma. It's hard for me to pose as Shourya and behave like the real me. Even the staff at the Rajawat Estate looks at me weirdly whenever I step out of my room, as though they're looking at a completely different person. They are, but I'm not about to prove it with my actions. I need this identity until I establish my own.

"If that's all," I get up to leave.

He walks back to his chair, "Send Zoya inside."

Nodding in response, I exit the room and look at his secretary waiting patiently outside. "He's expecting you." I point over my shoulder before walking down the hallway.

Entering the living room, my eyes automatically divert to the staircase and I nibble my lower lip. "Yara, I'm heading upstairs. Take care of the CCTV for me." I murmur softly.

"Sure, boss." He replies confidently.

I'm not really afraid of running into anyone. The staff usually works on the ground floor, Vivaan and their father must be at the hospital and Yuvaan rarely comes out of his room. The third floor is empty anyway.

Climbing the stairs deftly, I reach the last floor of the palace and stand in front of Taranya's room. A smile pulls at the corner of my lips when I remember the game of hide and seek. That night when we played that game, even if for a few moments, I was able to forget everything and actually feel something more than anger. She amused me, intrigued me. She makes me feels a series of emotions. Lust included.

I lick my lower lip and touch the knob of her door, twisting it. "Unlock it for me," I command my partner in crime.

"Yes, boss." The door clicks in place and I push it open.

My smile fades when I step inside. The entire room is stripped off of her element. She's nowhere. Everything that made this room hers, is now stuffed in those cardboard boxes. I wanted to feel her, imagine her, smell her.

My mouth twists in frustration and I kick at one of the boxes. It collides with the covered frames and they slide down the walls. I crouch to the level of her black suitcase, guessing the password to be 1111 and considering how dumb she is, the suitcase unlocks.

"What am I going to do with you, Princess?" I whisper and flip open the suitcase. Her art supplies stare back at me. Waste of time.

I go to close it again when I see something white peeking out of the open zip. Pulling the right side of the suitcase towards me, I undo the zip and take out the canvas wrapped in a white cloth. "Oh, so you do paint." I hum softly. "Let's see what we have inside," once I unwrap the canvas, a very unexpected sight greets me. I slide aside everything else and put the canvas on the floor, touching the painting to see if it's real or if I'm just imagining things.

It's me.

"Is that you, Boss?" Yara asks me.

"It looks like me." I mumble, my touch feathery soft as it explores the details of the painting. Is this how I look like from her perspective? She made me look like a dream. As if she can't believe I exist.

"Your heart, boss, it's racing again."

A wide smile replaces my face of awe. "She sees me, Yara."

"Everyone does."

I shake my head. "She sees me differently."

"Differently? How can one see someone differently?"

"When someone sees you as who you are, and not who you want them to be." I answer.

The more I look at the painting, the more I notice the details about it. She didn't use lighter colors, all of them dark. She added nighttime as the background, yet made me the focus of the painting, as if she doesn't need to see me in the light to recognise me.

"Click a picture of this painting, Yara and store it somewhere permanently." I instruct him.

"Done, boss." He responds a second later.

I cover the painting again and put it back in its place. When I get up to leave the room, a stray pendant on the empty dressing table catches my eye. I lean over to grab it. The moon charm hangs from the center of the chain.

Did she wear this around her neck?

I clutch it tighter in my fist as the memories of that night rush back in. I had her. Fuck, I almost had her. My face, buried in the silky smooth nook of her neck, and my hands, holding her petite body to mine. I was able to feel all of her so close. Her scent, her touch, I owned it even if for a few fleeting moments. I don't usually lose control. But I did that night. And I don't regret it.

She felt so good.

I had never felt like that before.

She made me so desperate for that feeling that I was ready to get it from somewhere else. But that'd mean she won. As if I sought her in someone else because I couldn't have her.

And I always get what I want.

I'm going to relive that feeling. That desperation, that passion, that overwhelming lust, I'm going to relive it all when I have her back in my arms. I'm going to make her regret walking out on me that night. I'm going to give her a taste of that burning desire, of what we can have together, of everything we can create together, and then pull away. So she knows what I felt that night.

"I know how you feel," I gaze at the pendant. "I know where you want to kiss her again. I do too." I whisper. "One day," I nod, smiling at my reflection in the mirror.

Shoving the pendant in my pocket, I open the door again and step out quietly, looking to my left and right before heading downstairs. When I finally reach the living room, I command Yara to stop tampering with the CCTVs and make my way outside the palace.

As I wait for my car to arrive, another black Mercedes rolls in and stops right in front of me. The driver exits and opens the doors. Vivaan and his father step out.

"Shourya?" The old man smiles pleasantly. "What are you doing here, son?"

I cringe at the affectionate tone. I'm not used to it.

"Yuvraaj called me."

"But weren't you in South Korea?" Vivaan walks over and stands beside his father, looking at me curiously.

"I cut the trip short. I'm not used to vacations." I shrug.

"Did the boys treat-"

"They were nice." I cut him off. "As I said, I'm not used to that kind of lifestyle."

Regret flashes through Vikram's eyes before he forces a smile on his face. "Why don't you stay for dinner?"

"No, I shall take my leave." My car arrives at the same time. "Excuse me." I descend the stairs and step past them to get inside the car. I nod at the two from the window and order the driver to start driving, ignoring their sullen faces as we pull out of the Chauhan palace.

I'm Shourya Singh Rajawat now. There's no need to look at me with so much pity. I'm not the same kid they first saw, beaten up, abused, raped. I'm powerful now. I've a name. I've an identity.

The drive to Rajawat Estate lasts longer than usual because of the traffic. When we finally reach, the sun is already below the horizon.

A guard opens the door for me and bows ninety degrees, helping my stuff out before carrying them inside. I step through the double doors and enter the humongous living room.

"Welcome back, young master." The butler regards me with deep respect. I nod at him and turn to climb the stairs. "Your grandfather wishes to see you." He says before I can take a step forward.

"Now?" I glance over my shoulder in confusion.

"Yes." He states.

"Fine, lead the way." And I follow him.

We stop in front of the study room and he knocks twice. The old man invites me inside. "I'll take it from here." I say, gripping the door handles as I push them open. "Send someone with two cups of Earl Grey tea." I add softly as I raise my gaze to look inside. From the corner of my eyes, I see him bowing obediently before he leaves.

My supposed Grandfather looks up from the papers he's reading and a smile replaces his look of concentration. "Shourya, my pride, my future heir, come in!" He beams brightly.

I plaster a fake smile on my face and walk in, a lightness to my steps that I've seen the old grandson walking with, as though he walks on clouds. "I missed you!" I grin, throwing my arms around the frail man and stopping myself from crushing him to death. I can't yet. He's my ticket to a good life.

I hear him laugh exuberantly before we both pull away.

"How was your vacation?" He asks as he stirs me to the seating area. I sit across from him and lean in, rubbing my hands together.

"It was fun." I chuckle.

"And what made you visit the Chauhan palace before me? I thought your grandfather was your priority?" He pokes me with the end of his stick. I fake a whiny ouch.

"Mr. Crown Prince hates it that I steal his sister's attention. So to warn me."

He simpers. "Do you still like that girl?"

"If I say yes, will you let me have her?"

"You can have anything you want, my prince. The world is yours. She's just a girl."

I rest back relaxed, glancing at the door when the maid rolls in the tray and serves us with the tea.

"When did you start drinking tea?"

"When I realised I need to win your favour to become the heir of this empire." I say jestingly. He takes it as a joke and laughs it off. Oh, I've never been so serious before, old man.

"You sly kid. Didn't I say everything is yours?"

"What about the shares?" I take a sip of my tea.

He looks at me seriously. "Which shares?"

"The ones you've put under my father's name currently. We both know he is not capable of wielding so much power."

He raises a playful brow. "You can have anything you want, Shourya. But to want my chair, you need to prove your worth."

I nod. "Give me one year."

"You're saying you'll prove your worth in one year?"

"Yes. When I turn eighteen, pass those shares over to me."

"Alright, let's see how you change my mind in one year." He smiles.

"Don't let Dad know about this."

He nods, understanding my circumstances. He might think it of as a son going against his father, but if Virendra Pratap gets a hint of what I'm planning to do with him, he'll do everything in his power to get rid of me.

"Is something on my face?" I ask after he stares at me for a long time.

"You've changed so much after the accident."

"For bad or for good?"

He nods. "For good."

That's right.

I'm still your most precious grandson, just reformed, new, smarter, and more deserving of this empire.

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