Page 4 of Entangled Vows (Destined Diaries #2)

“What the fuck?” Mohit leapt to his feet, his voice breaking through the silence.

Mahika grabbed his arm, trying to calm him, but his whole body trembled with fury.

“This has to be a mistake,” he snapped, his fists clenched tight. “I’ve always owned fifty percent. How the hell does this clause override that? How does he get majority control?”

Mr. Rao’s voice remained maddeningly calm. “This is what the new, additional section of the will states. The founders made changes in private. I’m only here to present them.”

Mohit could no longer contain his rage. “This is utter crap! No one discussed this with me. My father’s will was read a year ago. Then why the hell wasn’t this clause mentioned at the time?”

“This clause was specifically designed to take effect only after both founders had passed away,” Mr. Rao explained evenly. “It was intended as a safeguard. No one foresaw this. I knew about this, yes, but naturally, it had to remain confidential.”

“I don’t accept this,” Mohit thundered. “I’ve busted my ass for this company while Vikram sat in his cushy Mumbai office, playing startup with that asshole, Arjun!”

“Watch it,” Vikram cut in, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous growl. “Say one more word about Arjun, and I won’t give a damn how long we’ve been friends.”

Mohit’s eyes blazed with fury. “If friendship means so much to you, then why are you going along with this nonsense when you know it’s unfair?”

“Mohit, it’s complicated,” Mr. Rao said carefully. “Before he died, Mr. Khurana entrusted everything solely to Mr. Uday Jehangir.”

Mahika couldn’t hold back any longer. “But what about Suraj?”

Mr. Rao adjusted his glasses. “He voluntarily relinquished his shares in both the JK Group and Khurana Empire. He currently retains a fifteen percent stake in the automotive division of Khurana Empire, along with access to his personal trust fund.”

What! Mahika’s head was spinning. Suraj gave up his share in the business?

Her hands trembled as she grabbed her phone and called him again. But all she heard was a robotic voice saying the number was switched off.

Damn it.

She checked her messages, but they were still showing undelivered. Her chest tightened as she drew in a shaky breath. What the hell was going on?

Meanwhile, Mr. Rao’s voice droned on, reciting names, numbers, and layers of legal jargon that barely registered.

“I understand your worries, Mohit,” Mr. Rao said gently. “Mr. Jehangir will give you all the details when the time comes. The only change is the percentage. The alliance itself continues as is.”

Mr. Uday Jehangir was the longest-standing shareholder, holding ten percent equity, and her father’s most trusted mentor.

“This changes everything,” Mohit retorted sharply. “Unfair is still unfair.”

“I’m sorry, but there’s absolutely nothing I can do. And that brings us,” Mr. Rao said, his expression unreadable as his gaze swept across the room, “to the final provision of the clause.”

“Go on,” Vikram said, his voice calm. Too calm.

Mahika turned towards him and froze. There it was. The faintest shift in his expression. It wasn’t surprise, but something else. A calculated anticipation.

He knows. He knows. He knows.

The realisation reverberated in her mind, and her stomach plummeted even before Mr. Rao’s tone turned more serious.

“According to the highly confidential provision in the joint will of Mr. Jaykar and Mr. Khurana, should both founders die before any of their children are married, Mahika Jaykar and the Khurana heir, Vikram Khurana, must marry and remain legally bound for one year. The clause was intended to transform the business partnership into a familial bond, ensuring long-term stability and unity. Furthermore, this stipulation has altered Mahika’s inheritance.

The lock-in period for the Australian beach house has been extended.

She will receive it only after she completes one full year of marriage to Vi—. ”

“What?” She cut him off before he could finish.

The silence that followed was deafening, hitting her like a tidal wave. No one moved.

The words looped in her head, sounding distorted and unreal, like an alien language.

Required to marry. For one year. Lock-in extended…

Her pulse roared in her ears. The room started to tilt and sway. She gripped the chair tightly to keep herself steady. She wanted to say something. To scream. To ask what kind of sick joke this was. But no words came out.

Her gaze darted around the room, waiting for someone to laugh. To call it a mistake. A misreading. An outdated provision that no longer mattered. Anything. But no one spoke up. Not even Mohit. He looked stunned, disbelief written across every inch of his face.

And then her eyes landed on Vikram.

He sat in silence, his gaze fixed on her. For once, there was no smugness in his eyes, no trace of pity. She just saw that same scary calm, as if he had already known. That he had already accepted it. And that crushed the last shred of her hope.

She shot to her feet, the chair screeching harshly against the floor. “This is bullshit.”

Her mother’s eyes brimmed with silent tears. Mohit tried to reach for her, but she pushed him away. She couldn’t sit there a second longer. She needed to get out of that room. Now.

“No,” she whispered, her voice shaky. “No way. This isn’t happening.”

Her mind screamed the words she couldn’t hold back. I refuse to accept this. No fucking way.

Suddenly, she turned towards Vikram. “You... you jerk. Tell him I can’t be your wife. Tell him this is… this is absolute horseshit!”

Vikram just sighed wearily, like he was so over her tantrums.

Mr. Rao cleared his throat and chose his words carefully. “It is legally binding, Mahika. Unless both of you choose to contest and forfeit your inheritance, the clause stands.”

Forfeit? The word hit her hard.

She turned back to Vikram, hoping against hope, silently begging him to say something, anything, to take it all back. But he stayed quiet.

And that silence… it spoke volumes.

Her throat tightened, and her vision blurred.

Everything she thought she knew about her life, her father, her freedom to choose…

well, it was literally crumbling to ashes around her.

And within that spiralling inferno of disbelief, a harsh realisation surfaced.

Love wasn’t the reason her father had left her the cherished beach house. He’d weaponised it.

He was still manipulating things from beyond the grave, shaping her choices, her future, her freedom. Tears burned in her eyes, but she refused to cry. She steeled herself. Being weak and falling apart wasn’t an option. What she needed now were answers.

“There is no way on this earth I’m doing that,” Mahika snapped, her voice sharp with defiance. She strode to her father’s desk to reach for the will in Mr. Rao’s hand, then froze.

Something was holding her back. She whirled around to see her dupatta snagged on a chair. Her heart skipped a beat, and her temper flared when she realised it was his chair. Of course.

The damn nerve of her dupatta. Heat rushed to her neck as she yanked at it, but the more she pulled, the tighter it tangled. Her breath quickened as her fingers fumbled in anger and frustration.

At first, Vikram didn’t move. He just stared at her, looking completely unfazed and annoyingly handsome. Just as she was about to snap at him, he moved. His hand closed over hers in a warm, steady and unhurried grip.

She froze as soon as he touched her, sending a tingle down her spine.

In a split second, she went from furious to being eerily quiet.

Her body seemed to know something she didn’t want to admit.

And hell, she wasn’t supposed to feel this strange sense of security when he touched her.

She wasn’t supposed to feel anything… at all.

But she did. And that made her even madder.

With practiced ease, Vikram untangled the fabric, his eyes never leaving hers. “Here,” he whispered.

Mahika snatched her hand away, her heart pounding. She refused to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. She glared at Vikram and turned around, shooting daggers at Mr. Rao.

“I don’t believe you, Mr. Rao,” she said, her voice icy. “Show me the proof.”

From behind her, Mohit gently called, “Mahika—”

“No,” she cut him off, raising a hand. “This is bullshit. There’s no way Dad wanted me to—”

Before she could finish, Mr. Rao turned the page and pointed to the clause.

Mahika read the words again and again, as if rereading them might somehow change their meaning. But it didn’t, and her heart twisted.

“I don’t understand why would he do this,” she whispered, her eyes stinging with unshed tears.

“He had his reasons, I guess,” Mr. Rao said softly. “They both did.”

“None of them are good enough. I’m not marrying that annoying jerk.”

She turned to Mohit. “Did you know, Mohit?”

“Fuck, no,” he replied quickly. “I swear, Mahi, I would never let Dad do this to you.”

She searched her brother’s face to catch even a flicker of guilt. But there was nothing except raw hurt written there.

“There’s no way I’d let him trap you like this,” Mohit said, pulling her into a hug.

She wanted to resist, but she surrendered to her brother’s hug. His warmth and support pierced through her defences, pricking her eyes, and despite herself, the tears came, betraying her control.

“It’s going to be okay, Mahi,” Mohit murmured into her hair. “You don’t have to do any of this. This is a crock of fucking shit.”

Before she could respond, Mr. Rao cut in, his tone measured but firm. “I’m afraid neither of them can simply walk away. The clause is binding for both Mahika and Vikram. And to be clear, it impacts not only them, but their families and everyone tied to the business.”

“What do you mean?” Mohit asked sharply, his arms tightening protectively around his sister.

Mr. Rao didn’t flinch. “Like I said before, the beach house in Australia goes to Mahika after one year of marriage—”