Page 103 of Trapped By the Maharaja

She looked like a maharani. But inside, she still felt like an imposter.

A polite knock sounded. “Maharani,” Lalita said softly through the door, “the helicopter is ready.”

Sanjana swallowed hard, grabbed her phone, and walked out of the master suite.

The grand hallway stretched ahead, the soft glow of chandeliers lighting her path. As she descended the sweeping marble staircase, her grip on her phone tightened until her knuckles ached. She stared at the screen, her thumb hovering over one name. Ram.

He had flown to the city earlier that morning after they had breakfast together.

For one reckless moment, she wanted to call him. So, she could hear his deep, commanding voice. She knew it would calm her nerves before the charity event, even if his arrogant confidence and possessive claims would grate against her pride.

But she immediately forced the urge down.

Ever since that night in the suite, when she had cried in his arms after losing her patient, she had sworn she would neverallow him to see her weak and vulnerable again. It embarrassed and unsettled her that she found comfort in his embrace.

She had told him, over and over, that she hated him. And yet, she had found comfort in him.

Her cheeks burned with shame at the memory. She was willing to share his bed each night and surrender to passion, but she vowed to guard her heart fiercely.

???

The helicopter descended onto the Devara Royal Trust grounds, its blades kicking up dust as a crowd of onlookers shielded their faces. Through the window, Sanjana caught her first glimpse of the sprawling venue with white tents, silk banners carrying the Devara crest, and rows of chairs set neatly under the shade of large trees. Beyond them, she saw clusters of people in crisp cotton saris, glittering dresses, and suits.

Her stomach tightened in nervousness.

The door opened, and the security helped her down. Two young women in elegant salwar suits stepped forward, pressing their palms together respectfully.

“Welcome, Your Highness,” the taller one said with a small smile. “I’m Rhea, and this is Amrita. We’ll be your assistants for today.”

Sanjana returned the greeting with a polite nod, her palms still slightly damp against her pearl clutch.

“Her Highness Suchitra Devi has entrusted you to host today’s charity function,” Amrita explained as they guided her toward the entrance pavilion. “The purpose is to raise funds for the Devara Trust schools that cover scholarships, textbooks, uniforms, and mid-day meals. Your role is to represent the royal household, welcome the guests, and later, address the gathering before the donation pledges begin.”

A faint flutter ran through her chest. Address the gathering.

She had lectured in hospitals and presented at medical conferences, but never before a crowd of socialites in silk and pearls. Still, she forced a nod. “Understood.”

As they reached the main pathway lined with rose garlands, a group of educators broke away from the crowd and approached her.

“Maharani,” one woman in a simple blue sari said with a bright smile, “I’m Mrs. Deshmukh, principal of the Devara Primary School. We are so glad to finally meet you.”

“Yes,” another added, adjusting his spectacles. “Suchitra Devi has done so much for us. When we heard that her oldest daughter-in-law, a doctor, would be representing the Trust, we felt reassured. To have someone who truly understands children and heals them at the forefront means a great deal.”

Relief loosened the knot in her chest. She smiled. “Thank you. I’ll do everything I can to support the children and their needs.”

The assistants guided her through the grounds, introducing her to groups of educators, socialites, and philanthropists gathered beneath the white canopies.

One by one, they stepped forward with smiles and polite handshakes.

“It’s an honor to finally meet you, Your Highness,” said a school principal with silver hair, his voice warm. “The fact that you’re a doctor makes this event feel… real. We know you understand the children we serve.”

Another woman, head of a rural trust school, added, “It’s heartening to see someone who works with children leading today’s program. It makes us believe the funds will truly reach where they’re needed.”

Their words eased some of Sanjana’s nerves, steadying her heartbeat. For a brief moment, she felt she might actually be able to fit in.

“Well, well. The Devara Maharani herself,” a familiar voice of a woman, cut through the air.

Sanjana turned and saw Sania Kolli.