Jhanvi, a stunning model, lived a life of glamour and beauty, but beneath the surface, she felt suffocated by the constant scrutiny and pressure to maintain a flawless image. Her world collided with Armaan's, a billionaire businessman with a reputat...
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I woke up to the sound of my mother's gentle voice, "Jhanvi, beta, wake up! Today's the big day! Vogue India is waiting for you!"
I stretched, yawned, and sat up in bed, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. My family was bustling around me, all excitement and chatter. My father was beaming with pride, my brother was teasing me about being a superstar, and my grandfather was... well, being his usual grumpy self, but I could see the twinkle in his eye.
As I got ready, my mother helped me into my outfit, a stunning ensemble chosen by the Vogue team. My brother, Kabir, was making funny faces at me, trying to distract me from my nerves. My father, Arjun, was giving me last-minute advice, "Just be yourself, Jhanvi. You're going to rock this!"
Just then, my grandfather, Dada Ji, walked in, his eyes scanning me from head to toe. "You look like a true Singhania," he said, his voice gruff but affectionate. "Now go out there and make us proud!"
I smiled, feeling grateful for my loving family. They had always supported me, encouraged me to follow my dreams. And now, here I was, about to shoot for Vogue India!
As I left the house, I felt a sense of calm wash over me. Today was going to be amazing. Little did I know, someone was watching me from the shadows, someone who would stop at nothing to bring me down. But I didn't know that yet. All I knew was that I was ready to take on the world.
As I arrived at the Vogue India shoot, I was greeted by the team, all busy setting up lights and cameras. I took my place in front of the lens, and the photographer began snapping away.
Just as we were getting into the groove, my phone buzzed with a text from Ridhima, my assistant. "Jhanvi, Raichand Group has acquired a significant stake in Vogue India. Armaan Singh Rainchand, the CEO, wants to meet with you after the shoot."
I frowned, intrigued. Who was this Armaan Singh Rainchand, and why did he want to meet with me?
After the shoot, I was ushered into a sleek conference room where Armaan waited. Tall,Brown eyes, masculine body,sharp jawline, intensely attractive,imposing, and impeccably dressed, he exuded an aura of power.
"Jhanvi Singhania," he said, his voice smooth as silk. "You're as lovely as your photos."
I smiled politely, but something about him rubbed me the wrong way. "Mr. Raichand, what can I do for you?"
"I'm interested in partnering with you for our new luxury brand," he said, his eyes gleaming with business savvy. "You're the perfect face for our campaign."
But as he spoke, I sensed an undercurrent of condescension, as if he thought I was just a pretty face, not a person with agency.
"I'm not interested," I said, standing up. "I choose my partnerships carefully, and I don't think your brand aligns with my values."
Armaan's smile faltered, and for a moment, I saw a flash of anger. "You're making a mistake, Jhanvi," he said, his voice cold. "I always get what I want."
