Sally Brown couldn't sit still.
Her pulse throbbed in her ears as she glanced at the clock for the fifth time in under a minute. It had been over twenty minutes since Dhiviya disappeared into the executive level at AD Tech—alone—and Sally's nerves were beginning to fray like overused silk.
Who is she meeting?
Did she rig this presentation too?
Has she always had connections helping her win against me?
The thoughts spiraled, but deep in her gut, Sally already knew the answer. The truth cut sharper than jealousy ever could.
She's just… better.
Dhiviya wasn't lucky. She was calculated. Brilliant. Capable.
And her team?
Each one of them was elite. Formerly underestimated employees who had become predators once they launched DA Studio. They weren't just presenting today—they were hunting.
Sally clenched her jaw. That was why she had begged her father to use every back channel possible. That was why she'd pushed to secure evaluators, plant influence, and twist the system into something she could control.
"Dad. I need to call Dad—now."
She stepped away from the crowd, shielding herself from the buzz of speculation in the lobby. With trembling fingers, she dialed the number and pressed the phone to her ear.
"We have a problem," she hissed. "You need to call them again. I don't care how. Just make sure those evaluators pull DA Studio down. I'm telling you, something's not right—she must've rigged it too."
Her father's voice mumbled instructions and frustrations on the other end, but she was barely listening. Her eyes locked back on the lobby.
And there—she saw her again.
Dhiviya had returned.
But something was different now.
She wasn't anxious. She wasn't even curious about the other competitors.
She and her team stood apart—calm, precise, unshakable. They didn't mingle. They didn't speak much. They looked like six beasts standing at the edge of a battlefield, ready to devour anyone who dared to challenge them.
Sally swallowed the lump in her throat.
They're not nervous.
They're ready.
The lobby gates opened wide. An announcement chimed through the air, and an AD Tech representative stepped forward with a smile.
"All teams, please proceed to the registration counters. You will be guided to your assigned waiting halls."
One by one, firms stepped forward, verifying credentials, receiving welcome kits, and heading into the main corridors.
Every movement was efficient. Every detail accounted for.
AD Tech didn't look like it was hosting a presentation. It looked like it was running a military operation—precise, rehearsed, disciplined.
Upstairs on a private mezzanine balcony that overlooked the lobby floor, Raghavan Manoharan, Suruthi, and Athavan observed everything in silent coordination.
"I must say," Suruthi said with a grin, "this is impressive. Great work, brother."
Raghavan adjusted his blazer.
"It's just logistics. Nothing more than what was expected of me."
Then he raised an eyebrow at her.
"But you—why are you hiding from your team? Why aren't you with them?"
Suruthi shrugged.
"My lady boss told me to stay on standby. She didn't want me by her side today."
"Why not?"
She gave a lopsided smile, eyes narrowing in mock drama.
"I think she knows I'm your plant. That I was assigned to watch her back. And maybe today… she wants to go in alone. Maybe she thinks she doesn't need protection."
She paused.
"And maybe… she's right."
Athavan turned to her, his curiosity sharp.
"Why do you think she made that call?"
Suruthi sighed and crossed her arms.
"Because she's already fighting a war on her own. She just doesn't want us interfering."
She lowered her voice.
"There's something I didn't report yet. Figured you'd find out eventually, but—here we are."
She nodded toward the waiting zones, her tone turning grave.
"James Brown—Sally's father—cut a deal with five of your evaluators. Bribed them to give higher marks to James Architectural. I overheard it through one of my sources. I told Dhiviya."
Athavan's jaw tensed.
"And?"
"She told me not to report it to you. Said it was her battle. That the world isn't fair—and she didn't want to win by crying foul."
Raghavan clenched his fist.
"Give me the names. I'll deal with them right now."
"No." Athavan stepped in, calm as a glacier. "If she wants to face them head-on, we let her."
Just then, Suruthi's phone vibrated. She stepped away, answered quickly, and returned moments later, face clouded.
"New update. James just escalated. He told the same evaluators to mock DA Studio's presentation. To interrupt if possible. To do whatever it takes to throw them off and sink their score."
Athavan paused, hands folded behind his back.
"Keep tracking them."
He turned to Raghavan.
"Don't take action unless it becomes unethical beyond repair. But send a reminder to every evaluator. Short. Direct."
Raghavan nodded.
Athavan said softly:
"Tell them… 'Evaluate with integrity. Do not forget—we are watching. And this company has a very long memory.'"
...
Shankar and Dhiviya stood just outside Room 3—the most coveted presentation room of the day.
Main City Framework Design.
The crown jewel of the entire tender program. Every architectural titan in the region was circling this project. The tension here wasn't just professional—it was predatory.
Nearby, a few steps away, Sally Brown loitered like a hawk watching a rival nest. Her team, polished and tense, lined the opposite wall.
A group of AD Tech support staff swept past, carrying folders and hardware into the room. Shankar casually glanced at them, and his eyes widened.
"Guna?"
It was an instinctual call, and Guna froze mid-step. He turned—momentarily caught. Their eyes met.
He wanted to look away, disappear—but ignoring Shankar would be disrespectful.
Dhiviya smirked but kept her eyes on her phone like a mischief maker dodging trouble.
Shankar tried again, louder this time.
"Hey—your brother is here."
Dhiviya gave a playful shrug, not looking up.
"He told me to pretend I don't know him today. So I don't know him."
She flipped through her phone with exaggerated indifference.
Shankar chuckled, glancing at Guna.
"Should I pretend I don't know you too?"
Guna sighed and smiled in defeat.
"Morning, bro," he greeted quietly, slipping into little brother mode.
Sally, eavesdropping nearby, caught every word.
A grin crept onto her face.
Her spine straightened.
An intern?
So this is the brother she'd been worried about?
She'd been spiraling over… an office boy?
Confidence surged back into her bloodstream like iced adrenaline.
Unable to help herself, she strolled over to them—heels clicking with misplaced authority.
"Well, this is disappointing," she announced with faux surprise.
"When you said your brother worked here, I figured someone with weight. A department head, maybe. Not… a coffee runner."
She smirked.
"Is that really something to brag about?"
The air shifted.
Dhiviya's smile vanished.
Her phone slid back into her purse with deliberate calm.
Then—she stepped closer to Sally.
There was no humor in her face now.
Only the burning clarity of a woman whose pride had been insulted and whose bloodline had been mocked. You can mock me, but not my brother.
She leaned in. Close enough that only Sally could hear.
Her voice was low. Sharp. Deadly.
"Not everyone buys five evaluators just because they're terrified of losing on merit."
Sally blinked.
"Say that again?" she muttered.
Dhiviya's smile returned—but now it was venom.
"One more word from that stinky mouth, and I'll walk straight into the lobby and expose your little backroom deal to everyone. Media included."
The color drained from Sally's cheeks.
Because no one was supposed to know.
Even she didn't know the names of the evaluators—her father had shielded her from the details for deniability. None of the five evaluators even knew who the others were. The plan was stitched tight in anonymity.
Yet somehow…
Dhiviya knew.
She knew how many.
She knew who they were.
And she'd said it all like she'd been holding the information back… as a courtesy.
A chill swept through Sally's spine like a warning. She opened her mouth—but said nothing.
And in the silence, Dhiviya turned away, brushing her shoulder lightly past Sally's.
And just like that, the queen returned to her seat—head high, eyes focused, fire steady.
Because there were more important things waiting behind that door.
Like a war to prove her worthy.