The grand ballroom of the Ritz Carlton gleamed under a canopy of crystal chandeliers, casting a golden glow on the who's-who of the business world. Mahak Usman adjusted the diamond cufflinks on her tailored, navy blue blazer, the smirk on her lips betraying her calm composure. She thrived in this world of power and persuasion, where words were weapons and negotiations a battlefield.

"Miss Usman, the representatives are ready for you," her assistant whispered, gesturing toward the conference room where the auction was taking place.

"Good." Mahak's voice was smooth, confident. "Let's remind them why the Usman name is synonymous with winning."

She strode into the room, commanding attention. Her signature scent of jasmine and oud followed her, subtle yet striking, much like her reputation. The boardroom was lined with familiar faces—rival CEOs, luxury tycoons, and one particularly aggravating newcomer.

Faris Zaman.

He sat at the far end of the table, leaning back in his chair, one leg casually crossed over the other. His dark eyes scanned the room with cool indifference, a sharp contrast to the hum of tension that rippled through the other bidders. The tailored black suit did little to hide his broad shoulders and muscular build, and the faint stubble on his jawline gave him an air of effortless ruggedness.

But what irked Mahak the most wasn't his looks. It was his reputation as the underdog who'd built his boutique hotel empire from scratch. He was audacious, sharp, and worst of all, dangerously good at stealing deals she had her eye on.

"Ah, Miss Usman," Faris greeted, his voice low and calm, laced with amusement. "I was wondering when you'd show up. Thought you might be avoiding me after last week's... setback."

Mahak's smile didn't waver. "You mean the debacle where you outbid me for a crumbling estate? I was just letting you make mistakes early in your career."

The room chuckled lightly, but Faris's smirk widened. "Funny. I'll remind you of that when I turn it into the hottest destination in Europe."

Their eyes locked, a silent clash of wills that neither could afford to lose.

The meeting began, and as the bidding heated up for the historic Crescent Bay Resort, it was clear that Faris and Mahak were the only serious contenders. She played her cards with precision, escalating the stakes while maintaining her calm. Faris, however, had a maddening tendency to raise the bid without flinching, as if the millions being tossed around were pocket change.

By the end of the day, the auction was adjourned for final deliberations, leaving both Mahak and Faris in a standoff.

Outside the conference room, Mahak turned on her heel and headed for the elevator. But just as the doors were about to close, a large hand stopped them.

"Leaving so soon?" Faris stepped inside, his presence filling the small space.

"Unlike you, I don't spend my time gloating over unfinished victories," Mahak retorted, crossing her arms.

Faris chuckled. "I wasn't gloating. Just admiring your technique. Bold, outspoken, and with just enough charm to keep everyone guessing. You play the game well."

She raised an eyebrow. "And you? The mysterious biker-turned-entrepreneur. What's the secret? Grit? Luck?"

"Maybe a bit of both." He leaned against the elevator wall, watching her. "And you? The jewelry, the watches, the designer outfits. A woman who collects things like trophies. What are you trying to prove?"

The jab hit closer than Mahak wanted to admit, but she recovered quickly. "Some of us like pretty things. Not everything has to be a sob story of hard work and sacrifice."

"Fair enough." Faris shrugged. "But it must be exhausting, carrying all that shine."

The elevator dinged, and the doors slid open. Mahak stepped out without another word, her heels clicking sharply against the marble floor.

That evening, back in her penthouse suite overlooking the city skyline, Mahak poured herself a glass of wine and sank into the plush armchair by the window. The adrenaline of the day was wearing off, leaving her with the familiar ache of solitude.

She gazed at the opulent collection of boxes on her shelves, each holding priceless treasures she'd acquired over the years—antiques, heirlooms, rare jewels. They were symbols of her success, each one a victory. And yet, tonight, they felt hollow.

Her mind drifted, unbidden, to the boy from her past—the one who had shielded her during that horrifying day at school. His face was blurred in her memory, but the comfort of his presence had stayed with her. She often wondered where he was now.

Little did she know, the man she had just clashed with in the elevator had more to do with her past than she realized.