Page 3 of Trapped By the Maharaja
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 onhis 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.
???
Outside the building, a glossy black car with tinted windows and the Devara royal insignia embossed in gold at the center of the hood waited at the curb. It was flanked by two discreet security vehicles. The moment Ram emerged, the rear door was pulled open by a bodyguard in a dark suit and earpiece.
Ram entered without a word, settling into the plush leather seat. His two personal assistants slid into the back row behind him, while one bodyguard took the front passenger seat. Another trailed closely in the car behind.
As the car pulled into traffic, Ram’s senior assistant, Armaan, activated a sleek tablet. “Sir, you have the quarterly review at 4 p.m. with the Devara Trust Board. After that, a call with the Singapore office regarding the Crosslink merger. Dinner briefing with the Chief Minister is still on standby.”
Ram nodded once, gaze fixed out the tinted window as the city traffic sped by.
His phone buzzed in his coat pocket. Retrieving it, he glanced at the screen and answered.
A familiar voice came through. It was Mira, his mother’s personal assistant and longtime companion. “Yuvraj, Rani Suchitra Devi requests your presence at the palace tomorrow morning at 10. She asked me to convey that it is… urgent.”
Ram’s brows narrowed slightly, the only crack in an otherwise unshakable mask. “Tell her I’ll be there.”
“Thank you,Yuvraj. I shall let Her Highness know.”
Ram ended the call and set the phone on the seat beside him.
“Cancel tomorrow’s meetings,” he instructed Armaan coolly. “Reschedule anything that matters. The rest can wait.”
“Yes, sir,” Armaan said without hesitation, already typing rapid instructions into the shared scheduling app.
