Page 2 of Trapped By the Maharaja

“This isn’t the olden times when your ancestors conquered, Mr. Devara. Times have changed. You can’t just claim whatever you want!”

The bitter outburst hung in the air inside the boardroom.

Executives sat on both sides of the long table, watching the last of the conquest unfold.

Personal assistants, seated along the wall with notepads and sleek tablets, made notes with their heads down.

The city stretched endlessly beyond the glass windows, a skyline of steel and concrete, a proof that the age of kings had passed.

Yet everyone in the room knew it made no difference.

The man seated at the head of the table didn’t need a crown or an army.

He ruled with contracts, numbers, and a presence that left one with no option other than to surrender.

Ram Devara did not react to the outburst. Tall, sharply dressed in a tailored charcoal suit and black silk tie, he exuded quiet authority.

He rested one broad shoulder against the high-backed leather chair, his long fingers turning the pages of a file with unhurried precision.

The gold ring on his hand caught the light, its lion-and-lotus insignia glinting like a warning.

His darkly handsome face appeared unreadable, but his silence was louder than any threat.

Across the table, the former CEO’s defiance wavered. The outburst that had begun with fury now lingered visibly as fear.

Finally, Ram’s voice cut through the silence in a low, steady yet deadly tone. “Times haven’t changed much, Mr. Gouda. It is still the survival of the strongest.”

“This is outrageous,” Jaipal Gouda said, his voice shaking with fury. “You’re destroying my company. My people. My legacy that my great-grandfather had built.”

Ram glanced at the contract folder before him and turned a page with the tip of a fountain pen. “Wrong,” he said quietly, “we’re optimizing the company's value. Your leadership is ineffective. Our projections estimate a 43% increase in growth under my management.”

Jaipal Gouda shot to his feet. “You think you can just… just take it?”

Ram looked up, his eyes cold and ruthless. “I didn’t think, Mr. Gouda. I executed. Your board approved the acquisition at 51%. The contracts were signed at 10:03 this morning. This meeting is a formality. You are here because I allowed you to be.”

Silence swept across the boardroom. Executives shifted slightly in their leather chairs, avoiding eye contact. Personal assistants, continued to make notes while sneaking glances at the new company owner in both fear and awe.

“The management and staff will be retained on merit,” Ram continued. “Those who deliver results stay. Sentimentality is not a metric.”

The former CEO’s fist slammed against the table. “Courts, governments, newspapers… everyone bends to you, Devara. I can’t fight you with the law, but don’t think you’re untouchable. Men like you have a lot of enemies. One day, someone will put a knife in your back.”

The boardroom froze. Everyone held their breath at the open threat issued.

Ram’s gaze lifted, cold and piercing. He closed the folder with deliberate calm, the sound sharp in the silence.

“Empty threats don’t change facts,” he said softly, his tone more chilling than a shout. “The company is mine. And you, Mr. Gouda… should be careful what you say.”

Ram stood. Taller than any man in the room, his presence was a weight that made the air grow still.

He buttoned his suit coat with deliberate ease, and as he adjusted his cuff, the gold ring on his finger caught the light once more, drawing the eyes of several executives.

The insignia shone as a visual reminder that this was no ordinary businessman or an ordinary acquisition.

He turned to the group of stunned executives.

“Effective immediately, I am assuming the role of interim CEO. Department heads will report directly to me. A new five-quarter plan will be distributed by the end of the week. If anyone has concerns—” He paused, eyes scanning the room with cold precision. “—you’re free to resign.”

No one spoke.

Ram gave a curt nod. “Meeting adjourned.”

As he strode out of the boardroom, his assistants rose in unison and followed. No one else moved. Executives sat frozen in their leather chairs, knowing they had just witnessed a royal takeover.