I stirred slowly, the weight of the blanket pressing gently against my chest. A shiver ran down my spine, but it wasn't from cold anymore—it was the remnant of it. The kind that lingers after you've been pulled out of a storm.

My eyes fluttered open. The room was softly lit, filled with a warm golden hue that made everything feel unreal. The bed I was lying on was large, probably king-sized, and the blanket tucked around me... it wasn't just placed. The sides were folded carefully.

Tucked in.

By someone.

I didn't need to guess who.

Only one man could wrap ruthlessness in tenderness and pretend like neither existed.

Eshank Rai Singhania.

I sat up slowly, confused and oddly calm despite the whirlwind in my chest. I looked around. No sign of him. My clothes were dry... someone had dried them for me? I swallowed hard, feeling my cheeks heat up. My hair was still slightly damp, strands sticking to my neck. Beside the bed was a towel and a heating bag, still warm to the touch.

My feet touched the cool floor as I got up, barefoot, almost tiptoeing toward the door. The wood was polished mahogany, and everything in the room screamed expensive—but it was the silence that was louder.

I stepped out into the hallway.

And then I saw him.

Eshank Rai Singhania.

His back was facing me. He stood tall, dark grey shirt rolled up to the elbows, phone pressed to his ear. His voice was low, clipped, like he was wrapping up something urgent. I froze, watching him without meaning to. His stance, even in silence, carried command. Intensity.

And then he turned.

Our eyes met.

And in that second, all my rehearsed words, all my gratitude, all my apologies died in my throat.

He looked straight at me—expression unreadable—and walked over to the side table. He picked up something.

The duffle bag.

I looked at him confused as he passed that bag to me.

I asked, "Sir?"

"The money," He said simply as if it was nothing. 

Prr main toh baarish mein puri raat khadi nahi huyi toh phir yeh mujhe paise kyun de rahe hain..?

(But I did not stand in the rain the whole night, then why is he giving me money..?)

The one with ₹49,50,560.

He held it out toward me.

Silently.

I stared at it. Then back at him.

I opened my mouth, voice barely a whisper. "I... I didn't stand in the rain the whole night."

He didn't flinch.

"For your guts," he said, his voice low, "Even if it's for money."

The words hit me harder than the rain had last night.

I felt them like tiny cuts on my skin.

I took the bag with slightly trembling hands, trying not to show how much it hurt. How much he hurt. I hung my head low, my eyes staring at the floor as I whispered, "I really need it." 

Main jaanti hoon ki voh mujhpe bharosa nahi karte, prr phir bhi khud ko explain karna chahti thi... bas yeh nahi jaanti ki kaise karun.

(I know he doesn't trust me, but I still want to explain myself... I just don't know how to do it.)

He gave me the money and promised that I would return it soon.

He said coldly, "Time will tell." I don't know why a chill ran down my spine hearing those words.

I turned to leave. I don't know what else I could have told him... so I decided to leave. Just as I turned his voice stopped me, my back got stiff hearing him. 

"You haven't eaten anything since yesterday." It wasn't a question, rather it was a statement.

He knew I didn't eat. Is he concerned about me? Prr Akdu Lamba Khamba aur concern ek sentence mein fit nahi beth te. 

(But the arrogant tall pillar and concern do not fit into one sentence.)

"I have ordered breakfast." he said. I slowly turned to face him. I held the duffel bag tightly as if it contained my life. To some extent it is true. Angad is my life and this money is for Angad's survival.. so indirectly my life is in this duffel bag.

"There is no need, sir. I am okay." I said, forcing words out of my throat.

He raised his brow and said, "Your skin's pale. Probably low blood sugar.

I flinched slightly at his observation and started looking anywhere but him.

I still can't digest the fact that he noticed me. Like really noticed me. 

He noticed that my skin colour had turned pale. I mean I don't understand why this Akdu Lamba Khamba is worried about me? Sugar levels... are mine but why is he worried..? Mere sugar level badhe yaa ghate inko kya. He was in grumpy mode even today. But his grumpiness doesn't look like the usual grumpiness.

(Arrogant tall pillar)

(What does it matter to him whether my sugar level increases or decreases.)

Shayad main hi zyada soch rahi hoon. 

(Maybe I am thinking too much.)

"Eat," he ordered. "Or I won't let you go." His voice too firm. 

"Sir, I really have to leave. It's urgent—" I tried again, hoping to convince him. 

"I am not stopping you," he cut me off mid-sentence. "But eat first. Then go.” His tone left no room for argument.

I sighed, defeated, and said, "Fine."

I sneezed. Uff abhi tak thand lag rahi hai.. lag raha hai fever aur cold hoga.

(Uff, I am still feeling cold... looks like I might catch fever and cold.)

He pointed towards the chair, and ordered, "Sit." 

"I am sitting..." I muttered under my breath

I sat.

Someone knocked on the door and he went and opened the door. He brought a food tray with toast, cut fruits and tea for us.

Tea? He ordered tea for himself as well but he doesn't like it. He just likes that tasteless, bitter—black coffee.

But I did not ask him any questions because I knew it was better not to ask anything. Who knows when he might lose his temper.

We ate in silence. I saw eggs but didn't even touch them. Being a vegetarian I don't like eating them. I saw the eggs but didn't even touch them. Being a vegetarian I don't like eating them. I can't even tolerate their smell.

I have to leave from here as soon as possible. I have to take Angad to the hospital. I looked at watch again and again. Main late nahi ho sakti. That's why I started eating quickly. Because I know this man will not let me go until I finish all this food.

(I can't be late)

He watched me like a hawk. I ate hurriedly, hoping to escape this tightness in my chest, this crushing disappointment.

I coughed suddenly, choking slightly on the toast. My eyes watered.

Before I could react, he moved. A glass of juice appeared in front of me, and his hand lightly rubbed my back.

I stiffened.

Was he...?

He didn't say a word. Didn't look at me. Just quietly helped like it was muscle memory. Like maybe... just maybe... he cared, but didn't want to admit it.

"Drink," he commanded.

I sipped from the glass slowly and nodded. Indicating that I am fine now.

"I' am okay... I just I didn't want to be late. I'll come office again after break time." I informed him about my half day leave. 

He removed his hand from my back and instantly I missed the warmth he was providing. For the first time, I saw a caring man beneath this facade of ruthless man.

"I'll be late too," he told me while moving towards his desk. He said he needed to be somewhere. But the question is where? As far as I know he doesn't have any meetings outside the office? Anyway I can't ask him anything.

I stood up from the chair, clutching the duffel bag close to my chest. The weight of it felt heavy, not just from the money inside but from the responsibility it carried. My brother's treatment depended on this, and I couldn’t let him down.

"I... I'll leave now, sir" I mumured and he just nodded at my words. 

I turned and left his cabin without saying anything else.  

I didn't even say thank you.

Because I didn't know if I'd cry if I spoke.

--------------------------------------------------------

Outside, I clutched the duffle to my chest like it was life itself. My legs carried me forward without thinking. The wind was soft, the sun trying to peek through leftover clouds from last night's storm.

My heart was racing. Relief filled every inch of me.

Angad would live a healthy life. He will walk again.

I could finally take him to the hospital. We could start treatment. I didn't care what Eshank thought of me anymore.

But fate wasn't done with me yet.

As I walked past a large tree a block away from the building, a man stepped out from behind it.

"Ms. Avleen?"

I stopped.

His voice was smooth. Confident. The kind that people either feared or followed.

"Yes?" I asked cautiously. How is he? How does he know me?

He stepped closer.

Tall. Suit. Charisma dripping from his smile.

"I'm Kiaan Deshmukh."

I blinked.

The name meant nothing to me. I never heard this name before. 

"I... I'm sorry?" 

"You don't know me yet, but I know you," he said with a smirk, eyes glinting.

Something in my stomach turned.

"I know you need money," he continued. "Desperately. My people have been watching since the day you joined Black Crown."

I took a half step back, clutching the bag tighter.

"What... what do you want?" I asked, my throat dry.

He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a brown envelope. Stepping forward, he gently placed it in my hand and closed my fingers around it.

"That's a cheque for one crore," he said. "Signed. Yours."

My eyes widened.

One crore?

He smiled wider. "Work for me, Ms. Avleen. Feed me some company secrets. Nothing too big. Just the right information at the right time. You'll never have to worry about money again."

The envelope in my hand felt like poison.

"I... no," I whispered, pushing it back toward him.

His eyes narrowed. "You don't even want to think about it?"

"I don't need to," I said, voice firmer now. "I may be desperate... but I'm not cheap. I'm loyal to my company. I will not sell my integrity for money."

I shoved the envelope back into his chest. "And I don't even know who you are. Stay away from me."

His eyes flickered. "So you've chosen your side."

"I didn't choose a side," I snapped. "I work for it."

And with that, I walked away.

My heart was pounding, my mind dizzy with adrenaline.

But I didn't look back.

Not even once.

---------------------------------------------

The metro ride back home was quiet, the world buzzing around me, but my heart heavy with thoughts. As the train rocked back and forth, my fingers clutched the duffle bag Eshank had given me. 49,50,560 rupees. He gave me nearly Fifty lakhs. I still couldn't believe it. He hadn't asked for explanations. He had just... given.

I got off at my stop and began walking to my apartment building.

After 15 minutes, I reached my apartment building. I greeted the watchman as I entered. Greeted him back. I walked towards the ramp and started going up to my floor.

The moment I stepped inside the apartment, the familiar scent of home hit me. I dropped the bag near the sofa and quickly booked a cab. 

"Finally, you are back, Di" Angad said, his voice filled with relief. 

"Yes, putt. I am back. I'll just go and take a quick shower."

He smiled while nodding his head.

Went to my room and took a quick shower. After shower I wore blue kurti with little flowers and paired it with light blue jeans. I combed my hair and let it fall down to my waist.

Then I walked into Angad's room and opened his wardrobe.

I had barely started packing when I heard his voice.

"Di... why are you packing my stuff?"

I turned, trying to keep my voice light. "Your treatment starts today, putt. We're going to the hospital."

He blinked. "Today? But... what about the treatment cost?"

I paused for a moment, looking into those innocent eyes that trusted me so blindly. I gave a soft smile, brushing his hair back. "Don't worry about that. It's already arranged."

His eyes flickered to the bag lying near the sofa, but he didn't ask a single question. Not one. Not how. Not from where. Not what I did. Just... trust. That's all he gave me.

My eyes stung, and I quickly looked away before tears betrayed me. "You'll get better now, putt. You'll stand on your feet again. You'll run. You'll dance. Everything. I promise."

I bent down and kissed his forehead. He smiled, that same smile that always melted my heart.

"Di..." he said softly, "you'll come to meet me, right?" 

Angad ne jaise mujhse yeh kaha,  mera dil tut gya. Jis innocence se usne yeh sawal kiya hai, mujhe nahi pata main usse kya kahun. Main bhi nahi chahti ki voh meri nazro se door ho, prr main majboor hoon. Mere liye aapka  theek hona zyada zaroori hai, Angad. I am so sorry, putt.

(The way Angad said this to me, my heart broke. With the innocence with which he asked this question, I don't know what to say to him. I also don't want him to be away from my sight, but I am helpless. For me your betterment is more important, Angad. I am so sorry, dear)

"I'll come every day. Main apne Angad se milne kyun nahi aaungi bhala?" I laughed lightly, trying to sound cheerful.

(Why wouldn't I come to meet my Angad)

"I don't want to leave you alone, Di."

"Who said I'm alone? I have you." I held his hand in both of mine, squeezing gently.

Then he looked at me with a seriousness I hadn't seen in him for a while.

"Promise me something, Di."

"What kind of promise, putt?"

(Dear)

"That you'll take care of yourself. Eat on time. Sleep on time. No skipping meals. And message me every day. I want to know you're okay, even if I'm not here to watch over you."

I mock-saluted him with a smile. "Yes, sir! I promise. Now chalien? Jaldi theek ho ke ghar v taan aana ae."

(Let's go now? You have to come home quickly after recovering)

He grinned and nodded. The sound of a honking car came from outside. The cab.

I kneeled down, held both his small hands in mine, and kissed them gently.

"Stay strong, putt. I'm here. Always. Hamesha."

(Always)

I wheeled him down carefully. I always preferred buildings with ramps—it made it easier to move him around. As we reached the cab, I placed his bag in the trunk and kept the duffle bag on my lap. The ride to the hospital was silent. Angad kept looking out of the window, and I couldn't stop looking at him. He deserved a better life. A healthier life.

-------------------------------------------

When we reached the hospital, Dr. Kabir was already waiting at the entrance. His presence always felt reassuring.

"Champ," he greeted Angad with a bright smile, "let's go set up your treatment, huh? I'll show you your room."

He wheeled Angad in himself while I followed quietly. We reached a private room—clean, spacious, comforting. As the nurses began prepping him, Dr. Kabir and I stepped outside.

He looked at me with softness in his voice. "Avleen... you managed the money?"

I nodded. "Yes. I've arranged it."

He looked as if he wanted to ask how, but he didn't. "I know it must've been hard."

"It's okay. Just make my brother better. That's all I want. Please..." I didn't even try to hide the pleading in my voice.

"He'll be fine, Avleen," he said gently. "You brought him in time. The treatment hasn't been delayed."

I nodded, relief washing over me.

"I'll deposit the money now," I told him. "When's the surgery scheduled?"

"After two days. We need to do some tests and ensure everything is prepared. Post-surgery, he'll need intensive physiotherapy, but we'll take it one step at a time."

I nodded again and went to the deposit counter. I opened the duffle bag and handed over the amount. The cashier counted meticulously and gave me back ₹49,440.

I blinked.

I had asked for ₹49,50,560.

Which meant... Eshank gave me 50,00,000.

He gave more.

Without a word.

I closed my eyes for a second, swallowing down the lump in my throat. I held the remaining cash in my hand and made a silent promise to myself.

"I'll return this. Every penny. He gave more than I asked for. But I'll return this extra. No matter what."

For now, though, I tucked it into my purse and turned to walk back to my brother.

He needed me.

And I had finally done what I promised him—I'd given him a chance at walking again.

Whatever it took.

I stayed with Angad until he fell asleep. His hand in mine, his breath soft and steady. The nurses came in and out, checking the IV, adjusting the monitors, but his grip on my fingers never loosened. I didn't want to leave, but I knew I had to. Work was calling, and so was the man who had unknowingly made this miracle possible.

I kissed Angad's forehead softly.

"Main kal aungi, putt. Tera favourite chocolate milk leke. Okay?"

Even in sleep, his lips curved into a faint smile. I picked up my bag and quietly left the room, trying not to let the warmth of those hospital lights drown me in emotion.

--------------------------------------------

The metro was crowded, as usual. My body was tired, but my mind was racing. I had to get back to Black Crown and prepare everything for tomorrow. Mr. Rai Singhania might not say it, but he expected perfection. Always.

By the time I reached the office, the sun had already dipped halfway beyond the skyline. Black Crown stood tall as ever—intimidating, pristine, a fortress in the middle of Delhi's chaos. I greeted the guards, and they nodded, slightly surprised to see me this late.

My heels clicked through the marble lobby, and I reached my cabin. It was quiet. Most of the employees had already left, but for me, the real work was just beginning.

I opened my laptop and pulled out the project file.

"The Golden Sands Resort."

A luxury beachfront property Eshank was building in Goa—ultra-modern, opulent, and ruthlessly ambitious. Just like him.

I started typing out tomorrow's schedule—meetings, site visits, approvals, the vendor shortlisting—and then shifted to the cost estimate updates for the Golden Sands.

My intercom buzzed. The one which is directly connected with Mr. Rai Singhania's office.

"Good Evening-" He cut me off as usual and commaned

"Coffee. Now." he said, these two words and hang up. Literally aise lagta hai ki inko bolne prr tax lagta hoga... Isiliye itna kam bolte hain.

(Literally it seems as if he must be taxed for speaking... that is why he speak so little.)

I sighed. The man could be cold as ice, but his coffee needed to be hotter than lava and as bitter as his moods.

I got up, went to the pantry, and made his usual black coffee—no sugar, extra strong. I even double-checked the temperature before walking to his cabin.

I knocked softly.

"Come in." he said, in his usual robotic tone.

"Sir... your coffee." I said, my voice low. I placed the cup on his desk.

He didn't even look up. He just took a sip and his expression turned ugly. His voice was like a whip.

"Is this what you call coffee?"

I blinked, confused.

"Sir, it's your usual..."

He slammed his pen down.

"I said it's horrible."

I swallowed hard, steadying my voice.

"I'll make it again, sir."

"No need," he snapped.

I stood there silently for a moment. His jaw was clenched, his eyes unreadable. I could sense the storm brewing, but I wasn't here to argue. I was here for something else.

I reached into my bag and placed a small sealed envelope on his table.

"Sir..." I said quietly, "thank you for your help."

His eyes flicked to the envelope.

"These were extra," I continued. "₹49,440. I needed ₹49,50,560. You gave ₹50,00,000."

There was a pause.

His fingers froze over the desk.

He stared at the envelope like it had just betrayed him.

"How... exact."

His voice was lower now, no longer furious—just... stunned.

I didn't meet his gaze. I didn't want him to see the gratitude and shame in my eyes, the vulnerability I always tried to keep hidden from him.

"I just... thought it was right to return what I didn't need."

He didn't say anything. Just nodded, his brows slightly drawn in confusion—as if he couldn't decide what surprised him more: the fact that I returned the extra money... or the fact that I had calculated down to the last rupee.

Without waiting for a response, I turned to leave.

But before I stepped out of the cabin, I paused and said softly,

"The coffee might've been wrong, sir... but not the intention."

And I walked out, leaving behind the envelope... and a silence even his anger couldn't fill.

After leaving Eshank's cabin, I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding. The moment still clung to me—the way he'd stared at that envelope like it had punched a hole in his assumptions. But there was no time to linger on that. Work was waiting, and I still had a hotel project to polish to perfection.

Back in my cabin, I pulled out the thick, spiral-bound file labeled "The Golden Sands Resort." The name alone sounded like something carved in gold. It was massive—a five-star beachfront property in Goa, meant to be Eshank's crown jewel in the hospitality sector. Lavish, cutting-edge, exclusive. And also... horribly over-budget.

I skimmed through the recent reports, recalculated a few expense margins, and spotted some unnecessary vendor charges that could be trimmed. My fingers flew across the keyboard as I started creating a revised cost breakdown and timeline sheet.

After almost an hour, I gathered the file and walked to his cabin again.

I knocked.

"Sir, I've updated the resort file. May I?"

He glanced up from his laptop and nodded.

I stepped inside and placed the file in front of him, flipping to the marked pages.

"I reviewed the vendor proposals again. Some of the suppliers are quoting above market rates—especially the interior ones. I shortlisted two alternatives. Also, the current landscape architect wants full creative liberty, which might delay the project. I recommend giving tighter deadlines and a capped budget."

Eshank looked at the pages, silent but focused. His brow rose slightly as he turned a couple of sheets.

Then finally, he said,

"Good work."

My breath caught.

He rarely said that. Even rarer—he looked at me, nodded, and added,

"Next week, in the investor presentation, you'll take it over."

I blinked. "Me?"

"You made the revisions. You'll present them."

I nodded slowly, heart racing. "Yes, sir. I'll be ready."

He gave a slight nod again, and I quietly left the cabin, my mind spinning. I was used to doing the behind-the-scenes work, not standing in front of a boardroom full of stone-faced millionaires. But this was a step forward, and I wasn't about to fumble it.

I sat back at my desk and dove into my laptop again, refining the PowerPoint deck for the upcoming meeting. Charts, graphs, cost comparisons—I wanted it to be bulletproof.

The hours ticked by. At around 7 PM, I was still buried in my files when my phone lit up with a message.

"Come to my cabin." —Akdu Lamba Khamba

I got up instantly and walked over. The moment I entered, I noticed a black and gold envelope on his desk.

He picked it up and handed it to me.

"It's a ball."

I looked at him, puzzled. "Ball?"

"A formal gathering. Business associates from across the country. We host it annually."

I opened the envelope—it was an elegant invitation card with cursive letters, the venue a luxury heritage hotel downtown.

He continued, "Since you're my personal assistant, you're required to attend with me."

I stared at him. My mouth opened but no words came out.

"It's after three days," he said flatly, cutting off my silence. After three days? Do din baad toh Angad ki surgery hai... Kaise manage karungi sab main... In logo ko abhi hi kyun ball rakhna tha... ughh...

(There is a surgery of the organ after two days... How will I manage it all... Why did these people have to keep the ball right now... ughh...)

"On the weekend. Be prepared. We need to finish all pending work before that."

I gave a small nod. "Understood, sir."

And I walked out again, stunned. A ball? With him?

I didn't even have a dress for such an event. Nor heels that high. Nor the kind of grace that belonged in ballroom lights. But there was no time to spiral—I was already drowning in backlogs.

Work kept piling up. For every task I finished, three more emerged from nowhere—files, vendor approvals, the upcoming site inspection schedules, the investor pitch... It was like a mountain that kept growing every time I tried to climb it.

At around 8 PM, I was still sitting, bleary-eyed in front of my laptop when I saw Eshank walking out of his cabin, grabbing his car keys.

He paused at my desk.

"You're still here?"

I nodded, blinking at the screen. "The investor file... I'm just finishing up the risk assessment section."

He glanced at the clock. "Complete it. Only then you can leave."

I nodded again. "Yes, sir."

And just like that, he walked off.

I watched him go, part of me wondering if he realized how late it was... but I shrugged the thought off. Maybe because of the ball, the pressure was higher than usual. Maybe it was just Eshank being... Eshank.

I didn't complain.

I buried myself back into the numbers, cleaned up the report headers, cross-verified the contract clauses, and formatted everything until it looked crisp and final.

When I finally hit save, the clock on my laptop read 11:03 PM.

My back ached, my eyes burned, and my brain had started to buzz like a dying bulb.

I packed my things silently, dragged myself to the metro, and finally reached my rented apartment.

The second I entered, I dropped my bag, kicked off my heels, and collapsed on the bed—clothes, makeup, and all. I didn't even have the energy to change.

My last thought before sleep swallowed me whole was—

Three days. Just three more days... and then the ball.

God help me.

Hey lovelies, How are you all doing? I hope you all are good. here is the Chapter-12 of His Replaced Bride. Don't forget to like and comment. I would love to know your views on his chapter.

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Thank you, Have a nice day!

Your Author,

Mili.