Todos os capítulos de The Rejected Wife's Secret Empire: Capítulo 11 - Capítulo 20

 The plush carpet under Aryan’s knees felt like a bed of nails. He crawled across the floor, his bleeding fingers clumsily gathering the scattered documents. Above him, the conversation flowed effortlessly. Kiara and Rajeev were sealing the Nexa acquisition, word for word, exactly how Aryan had mapped it out in his head just moments ago.He heard the clinking of teacups. He heard Rajeev’s booming laugh. He heard Kiara’s smooth, commanding voice finalizing the terms. She was using his genius, his years of cutthroat corporate experience, and passing it off as her own casual brilliance. And he couldn't do a damn thing about it."It's a masterstroke, Kiara," Rajeev praised loudly, making sure his voice carried over to the dark corner of the office. "A flat cash buyout with zero royalties. You just saved the firm millions. Honestly, you have a better business mind than some of the so-called 'kings' of the industry used to have."The pointed ins

The underground parking garage of Empire Industries was freezing at 5:45 in the morning. The harsh fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting long, lonely shadows across the concrete floor.Aryan shivered. The thin fabric of his ruined suit offered zero protection against the damp morning chill. He had spent Rajeev’s hundred-rupee note on a cheap roll of medical tape for his bleeding fingers and a stale bun from a street vendor. The bun had barely made a dent in his hunger, but the tape was the only reason he could even bend his hands today.He found the cleaning supplies exactly where Kiara said they would be—next to a massive concrete pillar. And parked in the reserved VIP spot was her car. A sleek, midnight-black Bentley. It was a machine that cost more than most people made in a lifetime.Aryan grabbed the heavy bucket, filled it with freezing water from a nearby utility sink, and mixed in the harsh chemical soap. He picked up a large sponge. Th

The heavy oak doors swung open, and the room was suddenly filled with the sound of expensive leather shoes on the marble floor and the confident, booming voices of powerful men.Aryan felt like a cornered animal. He stood stiffly by the door, his wet clothes feeling like ice against his skin. Every drop of water that hit the carpet felt like a loud, ticking clock marking the end of his dignity.Leading the group was Mr. Gupta, a veteran of the textile industry and a man who had once practically begged Aryan for a partnership. Behind him were three other directors, all of whom Aryan had shared expensive scotch and cigars with at the city’s most exclusive clubs.The conversation amongst the men came to a sudden, jarring halt. One by one, their eyes landed on the shivering, disheveled figure standing in the shadows of the doorway."Aryan?" Mr. Gupta’s voice was a mix of shock and utter disbelief. He stepped closer, squinting through his thick glasses. "Is that... Aryan Singhania?"Aryan

The engine of the Bentley hummed quietly, but inside the car, the silence was deafening.The drive to the Grand Plaza Hotel felt like a slow march to the gallows. Aryan gripped the leather steering wheel tightly, the stiff collar of his chauffeur’s jacket scratching against his neck. In the rearview mirror, he caught a glimpse of Kiara. She looked devastatingly beautiful in a sweeping, backless emerald gown. Diamonds glittered at her throat and ears—diamonds he knew he had never bought for her during their brief, miserable marriage.She was completely ignoring him, casually scrolling through her phone as if he were just an invisible piece of the car's machinery.The glowing neon sign of the Grand Plaza came into view, lighting up the busy evening street. A massive crowd was gathered near the entrance. Velvet ropes, heavy security guards, and a literal sea of paparazzi holding massive cameras. It was exactly the nightmare he had anticipated."Pull right up to the red carpet," Kiara com

The laughter of the crowd felt like a physical weight pressing down on Aryan's shoulders. Ashok Khandelwal took another slow sip of his champagne, his eyes never leaving Aryan's humiliated face. The banker was enjoying this way too much."Come on, Singhania. Speak up," Ashok taunted, stepping closer. "Where's that famous arrogance? Remember when you told me my bank was too 'small-scale' for your massive vision?"Aryan's jaw was clenched so tight it felt like his teeth would crack. His arms trembled violently. The silver tray was getting impossibly heavy. The cheap medical tape on his fingers was soaking through with fresh blood from the sheer strain of the day."Ashok, leave the poor man alone," a woman in a red designer dress giggled from the circle. "He might drop our drinks.""Drop them? He wouldn't dare," Ashok smirked. He reached out and tapped the edge of the heavy silver tray with his index finger. It wasn't a hard push, just a mocking, condescending little tap.But for Aryan,