Mag-log inJenny had calculated everything down to the smallest detail. With a subtle maneuver, she strategically swapped her duty from serving wine to pouring rose water and applying scent to the guests at the entrance of the hallway. It was the perfect cover — close enough to brush against the most important figures, yet invisible enough to avoid suspicion.She smiled, flashing her teeth at the guests as they walked in, unbothered by the glares and disgusted looks thrown her way. Every man and woman who entered looked their best — elegant gowns, tailored suits, dripping jewels, and polished confidence. The hall shimmered with wealth and vanity.Then Annaida arrived like a queen.She looked different — slimmer, more refined, her elegance sharpened to perfection. Heads turned instantly, conversations paused, and eyes followed her every step. She was radiant, magnetic, the kind of beauty that demanded attention. But her eyes, cold and disdainful, locked on Jenny. She glared with disgust, looking
The Knight Mansion was no longer a home; it had transformed into a stage. Chandeliers blazed like fire, scattering fractured light across polished marble floors. The banquet hall gleamed in opulence — velvet drapes cascading like rivers of blood, gilded mirrors reflecting fractured truths, and arrangements of white lilies masking the stench of schemes. Servants moved briskly, adjusting silverware, pouring wine, rehearsing perfection as if the night itself demanded flawlessness.Guests began to arrive, their laughter echoing through the corridors, unaware they were stepping into Damon’s carefully laid trap. Family members, business partners, old allies — all summoned under the guise of celebration. Yet beneath the glittering surface, tension pulsed like a hidden current, ready to erupt.From the balcony above, Damon watched, his silhouette sharp against the glow. Every detail was deliberate: the timing, the guest list, the decorations. This wasn’t a welcome‑home party. In a way, it was
Davina’s voice cracked, her fury spilling into despair.“You think chaining me through legal jargon makes me his? He’s delusional!”Mr. Mehra’s tone softened, but his words carried weight.“Delusional or not, Damon has created a structure where the beneficial ownership rests with you only if you acknowledge the marital designation. Without that, you remain a nominal shareholder with no enforceable rights. He’s turned your parents’ empire into leverage for his obsession.”Davina’s eyes burned, fury and despair colliding. Davina’s fists clenched, her voice rising.“So he’s betting I’ll cave. That I’ll accept being Mrs. Knight just to reclaim my parents’ empire.”Claire Whitmore, added with precision.“And that’s the trap. As I mentioned earlier, Damon structured this as a dual‑jurisdiction contract. Even if you challenge it in India, the New York filings will hold. He’s weaponized corporate governance. But remember — the fact that your marriage was never registered, and that he is unawa
Davina paced the length of her study, the documents spread across the desk like a battlefield. Her fingers trembled as she flipped through the pages again and again, searching desperately for a loophole. But every clause, every sub‑section, every notarized seal mocked her. Damon had been meticulous.Her voice cracked in frustration.“Damn you, Damon… you’ve cornered me.”The Share Transfer Agreement was airtight. The Articles of Association had been amended, the Registrar of Companies filings already updated. The escrow account showed cleared transactions, and the board resolutions were stamped with unanimous approval. The legal designation was clear: Shefali Damon Knight — Party A.Not just Shefali. Not Davina Parker. But Mrs. Knight.Her stomach churned. To reclaim her parents’ empire — the companies, the assets in Mumbai, London, and New York — she would have to prove she was Damon’s wife. The thought made her skin crawl.She slammed the papers down, her voice rising in fury.“He’s
Shaking off the unease, Davina reached for the envelope, her fingers trembling as she prepared to tear it open. Just then, her phone buzzed. An unknown number flashed across the screen. She ignored it, letting it ring out.It rang again. And again. On the third time, her nerves frayed, she snatched the phone and pressed it to her ear.“Hello?”A voice slid through the line, smooth, mocking, unmistakable.“Hey, wifey… did you miss me already?”Davina’s heartbeat spiked, frantic and uneven. She wished she hadn’t recognized that voice, but she had. Her breath hitched, her stomach twisting — she couldn’t tell if it was butterflies, anxiety, or electricity coursing through her veins. She wanted to screamWho are you? Why the hell are you calling me? How did you get my number?But all she managed was a gasp.“What’s wrong, baby girl?” Damon’s voice cooed, dripping with false tenderness.“I know you recognized me. Won’t you let me have the pleasure of hearing your voice? Are you still upse
“Jenna, what are you up to… you’re scaring me,” Davina muttered, her eyes narrowing as she studied Jenny’s bizarre disguise.“At least tell me where you’re going looking like that. I mean, I get the blonde wig — you want to hide your identity — but black skin? Really? And you haven’t even covered it properly, there’s a patch of your natural fair skin showing. And those weird glasses… plus the two fake teeth? Girl, you look shabby.”Davina’s face twisted in disgust, Naina burst into laughter, while Jenny gasped theatrically, clutching her chest as if mortally offended.“Let’s just say I love my bestie too much,” Jenny sneered, her smirk plastered across her face while Naina helped her cover her skin fully with makeup.“So I’m going on a mission. I’ll be a waitress at a high‑society party. I’m already late. This look? It’s camouflage. No one will pay me any attention. And these glasses? Not just glasses — with them, I can control everything. You’ll see. Just wait and watch.”Davina groa







