Page 20 of Trapped By the Maharaja
A knock on the office door broke the quiet. The head of his security team stepped inside, calm but alert.
“Dr. Shetty is a few minutes away, Your Highness,” the guard said. “On schedule.”
Ram gave a slight nod. “Let her through when she arrives.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
As soon as the head of his security team left, the room went still again.
Ram turned back to the city view. He didn’t need to turn around to know his personal assistant and the legal counsel were shocked and curious. He could feel it in the silence. They couldn’t understand why the Devara royal was determined to marry an angry, rebellious doctor who obviously hated him.
The previous day, his assistant, Armaan, had come to Ram nervously, stating that Sanjana had refused to work with the legal counsel they’d assigned to her. She’d made it clear she would only speak to Ram directly, and only on the day of the deadline.
Ram wasn’t surprised. He knew Sanjana wasn’t the kind to be arm-twisted into doing anything she didn’t want. If anything, she was the one who often demanded that others help her in whatever she set her mind to.
A strange ache tugged inside his hardened heart as he recalled their first meeting.
???
Twelve years ago
The jeep rattled noisily while Ram drove to the university campus. The second-hand vehicle was old and rusty, but he cherished it because it was the first big thing he bought with his savings.
Though he and his brothers were heirs to wealthy royal estates with an impressive collection of luxury cars, their mother enforced strict rules for her sons.
“If you boys want something for yourselves, you must first earn it. Royals are born, but Maharajas are made.”
Ram had earned money by spending his teenage years working on the royal estate during school holidays. He had scrubbed stables, hauled grain, balanced account ledgers, and even bent his back in the paddy fields. The wages he collected over the years were just enough to buy an old Jeep from one of the estate workers.
His university friends tried to hide their distaste whenever they climbed into his old jeep, but Ram didn’t care. To him, the jeep was proof that he could stand on his own, even without the Devara name.
Ram shifted into third gear, pressing the Jeep harder. Cricket practice would start soon, and the coach hated latecomers. Just as he turned near a busy intersection, he saw a crowd in front of an under-construction building.
He slowed down, but had to hit the brakes hard when a girl suddenly ran in front of his jeep.
She was petite, and her long, thick braid flew behind her as she rushed towards his window. Her large, expressive eyes locked on his, fierce with urgency. She slapped her palm against his window. He lowered the window and saw that hersimple white dress was smeared with blood in the front. For a moment, he thought she was severely injured, until she spoke.
“Wait here.” It wasn’t a request. It was an order.
Before he could react, she yanked the back door wide open. She ran towards the crowd and returned with her arms straining around a small, limp body. It was a small boy. His head was wrapped with a makeshift cloth already sodden red. Behind the girl was a sobbing woman, possibly the injured boy’s mother.
The girl instructed the mother to get into the jeep first, and then, handing the little boy into the woman’s arms, the girl pushed his cricket kit aside and climbed into the back seat of the jeep before shutting the door.
“Drive to the hospital!” the girl barked.
Ram didn’t say anything. He drove to the nearest hospital.
A few minutes later, they reached the Devara Trust hospital. As soon as the jeep stopped, the girl got down from the backseat and took the injured child into her arms before rushing into the hospital. The mother followed, weeping.
Just as Ram thought of following the girl inside, his phone rang. It was his coach.
“Ram, where the hell are you? The practice match is about to begin!”
Ram hesitated. His instinct wanted him to follow the girl inside. But taking a deep breath, he pushed aside the feeling. He knew she would be fine. He would call the hospital on his way to ensure the injured child was taken care of.
“I’ll be there in five minutes, coach.”
Glancing towards the hospital one more time, he drove away, feeling strangely bemused by the bossy girl who had taken charge of a situation well.
