Author : RJ Pari

Genre : Romance | Psychological Drama | Royal Fiction | Suspense | Forbidden Love

Traits :
⭐ Contract Marriage
⭐ Age Gap Romance (18 x 32)
⭐ Uncle-Niece Dynamic
⭐ Possession & Obsession
⭐ Dark Romance

⚠️ Author’s Note & Disclaimer

This story is a work of fiction, written solely for entertainment purposes. All characters, events, relationships, and locations depicted herein are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or real-life incidents is purely coincidental.

This novel explores a dark, possessive, and emotionally intense romance—delving into complex psychological conflicts, emotional turmoil, and morally challenging situations. It is not intended to glorify or misrepresent any real-life relationships or societal norms.

📌 Reader discretion is advised if you are sensitive to themes involving taboo dynamics, psychological intensity, or emotional manipulation.

All rights to this story are reserved by the author, RJ Pari. Any attempt to copy, plagiarize, or republish this work without permission will result in strict legal action under copyright law.

Thank you for your understanding and support.

— RJ Pari ✍️

. . . . . . . . .

Jodhpur, Rajasthan High Court.

The air inside the courtroom was heavy, suffocating with tension. The old ceiling fan whirred overhead, barely stirring the oppressive stillness. Judge V.K. Rana sat slumped in his seat, rubbing his temples—dark circles nested beneath his tired eyes, a deep crease carved across his forehead from months of unresolved tension.

Same case. Same drama. Same absence.

Standing tall in front of him was Prosecutor Purab Mehta, voice dripping with sarcasm and exasperation.

“Your Honor,” he began, his tone sharp as a blade, “once again, Mr. Aayansh Rajvanshi fails to grace this court with his presence. How long will this courtroom be mocked by his arrogance? There are rules, decorum... even kings aren't above the law.”

The judge exhaled, frustration flickering in his eyes as he turned toward the defense bench. His voice dropped, cold and stern.

“Where is Mr. Rajvanshi? Does he no longer acknowledge the authority of this court? His continued absence is contempt.”

Defense lawyer Mr. Rawal rose slowly, visibly uneasy. “We completely understand, Your Honor. We had informed Raja Sa, but... perhaps something urgent delayed him.”

There was guilt in his voice. And fear.

Then, from the far end of the courtroom, a sharp voice sliced through the silence.

"See, Your Honor?" It was a woman—poised, stunning, and venomous. “If my ex-husband doesn’t have time for a custody hearing, how does he expect to raise a child?”

Her name was Ishita Goyal, and she was heartbreak in designer heels. The kind of beauty that demanded attention and concealed rot beneath perfection. Her eyes sparkled with cold ambition, her words laced with the icy venom of calculated rage.

Purab leaned in, ready to pounce.

“Exactly, Your Honor. My client is absolutely right. If Mr. Rajvanshi can’t show up for his own daughter’s future, how can he be expected to care for her? An eight-year-old needs a mother’s warmth, not her father’s empire. Please grant the custody to my client.”

Silence fell—thick and tense.

And then… it shattered.

The courtroom doors creaked open with an echo that felt like thunder.

Heavy boots. Guard shadows. The cold scent of power.

And then he walked in.

Aayansh Rajvanshi—the King of Mewar.

He didn’t need an introduction. His presence spoke louder than any legacy. Tall, composed, wrapped in a pitch-black tailored suit that clung to his broad frame like armor. His eyes—frosted obsidian. Unbothered. Unreadable.

Every head turned. Time itself seemed to pause as he walked slowly to the center of the room. He wasn’t a man late for a hearing. He was a ruler walking into his court.

“I apologize for the delay, Your Honor,” his voice was calm—too calm. “I was only informed of this sudden hearing this morning. It takes over four hours to reach Jodhpur from Mewar… but disrespect was never my intention.”

There was no remorse in his voice. Only ice. Precision.

Across the room, Ishita exchanged a quick glance with Purab, her panic veiled beneath her perfectly painted face. He wasn’t supposed to be here. Something had gone wrong.

Purab cleared his throat, trying to recover. “Then perhaps you'd be kind enough to explain, Your Highness, why this... absenteeism is a recurring issue?”

Aayansh turned his gaze—slow, deliberate. It landed on Ishita. She flinched.

“I owe Ms. Goyal nothing,” he said, each word a nail in a coffin. “But for the court’s record—I was unaware of several past hearings. Apparently, my previous advocate enjoyed certain… benefits, courtesy of the plaintiff.”

A cold gasp rippled across the room.

He glanced at his new counsel. “As of today, Mr. Rawal will be representing me. Permanently.”

Shock. Silence.

Ishita’s smirk vanished. Purab looked down. The courtroom wasn’t just stunned—it was humbled.

Aayansh, however, stood unaffected. Like a storm that had just passed through but hadn’t yet begun to rain.

Because kings don’t arrive late. They arrive when it’s time to change the game.

Judge Rana, adjusted his glasses and leaned forward.

“We understand the weight of your responsibilities, Mr. Rajvanshi. Managing a vast business empire and the Mewar throne is no small task. And yet, the heart of this case remains simple—your daughter is just eight. She needs more than money. She needs care. A mother.”

Aayansh didn’t blink.

The judge continued, voice now heavy with warning.

“You have one month. Either show this court that there is a permanent, nurturing maternal presence in your daughter’s life—or we will be forced to grant full custody to Ms. Goyal.”

The words sank like lead.

The room froze.

But Aayansh didn’t flinch. No panic. No fury. Just… stillness. Like a monarch before war.

His gaze didn’t leave the judge. And yet, behind his still eyes, something was moving. Calculating. Deciding.

The gavel struck.

“The next hearing will take place in 30 days. Court is dismissed.”

The verdict echoed.

But the real game had just begun.

Because now… Aayansh Rajvanshi needed to give his daughter a mother.

In thirty days.

No scandals. No mistakes.

Only one path remained—dangerous, unthinkable… and entirely forbidden.

---

Will the king sacrifice morality for blood? Will he cross the final line to protect what is his?

Tell us in the comments—what would you do if love and legacy demands a choice?