Chapter 41: The Banquet
Orion Tower – First Floor
Rohit was impressed the mont he stepped in.
Banners of welco and brand advertisents lit up the walls, while a red carpet stretched across the gleaming marble floor.
Despite the space being vast, the area felt strangely quiet—only black-suited security officials and the occasional cleaner moved about.
Most of the shops were shuttered, but no expense had been spared on lighting. The entire floor felt like it was prepared for an inauguration.
Click here for image.
Following instructions, Rohit approached the reception. A woman was already waiting there, her gaze sharp and expectant.
He registered his details, ntioned his affiliation, and handed over his packages to be stored—handled with brisk efficiency.
The receptionist didn’t appear surprised at his presence; it was clear she’d been inford beforehand. After a quick phone call, she simply told him to wait.
Rohit occupied himself with his phone, not expecting much, until a familiar, lilting voice cut through.
"Good evening, Young Master."
He turned—and blinked. It was Ms. Chanu, the bodyguard, though not in her usual uniform. Instead, she wore a leather jacket and jeans, her presence softer yet still confident.
"What a pleasant surprise," Rohit greeted warmly. "You look... sweeter in this appearance."
Chanu’s lips curved, her eyes holding his longer than usual. A faint blush betrayed her composure.
"It’s only because Young Master is attentive enough to think so highly of a guard."
Her tone was modest, but her deanor had softened.
Click here for image.
After a brief exchange, she inford him that his mother had arranged a private suite on the 30th floor so he could change and refresh. Rohit, already prepared, declined politely. It wasn’t unusual—he predicted the reserved suites to be used when the entire tower was under elite servie.
For a fleeting mont, he wondered if Ragini might also stay overnight here—but brushed off the thought. Without delay, he and Chanu entered the lift and ascended directly to the 35th floor.
Exhibition Hall
After several passes and security checks, Rohit finally stepped into the hall. The sight struck him imdiately.
The floor was opulent as everything scread ’for elites’.
Guests dressed in luxury attire filled the space, waiters gliding past with trays of juice and quick snacks. Paintings adorned the walls, while sculptures, relics, and jewels, which seed far older than re antiques, were displayed in glass cases.
It felt less like an exhibition and more like a private museum, except there was no weaponry. The cultural richness was undeniable.
Guided by Chanu, Rohit approached the heart of the gathering—where his mother stood.
Ragini Singhania was encircled by guests, her presence felt radiant.
Tonight she wore a designer hybrid saree-blowse paired with a tailored jacket, blending tradition and power in equal asure. Around her, other won donned a mix of traditional silks, Indo-western dresses, and even sharp western formals. Yet Ragini stood apart.
Her ruby pendant glinted beneath the chandelier, her hair styled into a professional bun. She looked regal, commanding, and breathtaking—her very aura carried authority.
Rohit, montarily stunned, composed himself just as she noticed him.
Click here for image.
With a smile that softened her otherwise powerful image, Ragini introduced him.
"This is my son, Rohit Singhania."
The surrounding guests exchanged surprised glances, smiles spreading as they greeted him.
Rohit responded with a polite namaste, though inwardly he dismissed them as insignificant extras, as none of them were noteworthy.
A few even remarked how unexpected it was to see Mrs. Singhania’s son already grown, which brought a faint blush to her face—and a sarcastic smirk to Rohit’s thoughts.
Bla your beauty, Mrs Singhania. Who told you to stand out so much?
Among the guests stood a man in a suit and glasses who introduced himself smoothly.
"It’s a pleasure eting you, Young Master Singhania. I am Arjun Pathak—Mrs. Singhania’s secretary. You may call
Secretary Pathak."
Rohit acknowledged him with a pleasant expression, already filing him away as a butler-like figure who might prove useful.
As more people flocked to Ragini, Rohit quickly realized his mother would remain occupied. With tact, she handed him over to Secretary Pathak, instructing him to show Rohit around until the auction began.
Once they broke away from the crowd, Rohit turned to him.
"So tell , Mr. Pathak—what exactly is this exhibition for? And the purpose of our gathering?"
Pathak adjusted his glasses before replying smoothly.
"The exhibition and auction tonight feature relics and artifacts dating back to the Mauryan era. On the surface, it appears to be a cultural celebration banquet—an elegant way to mingle with social circles. But the true purpose is to stand out, to attract attention. And that, Young Master... is where your role cos in."
Rohit raised an eyebrow. "My role? And whose attention are we seeking?"
Pathak straightened his tie and smiled faintly.
"Instead of telling you, why don’t I show you around? Please, follow ."
Rohit nodded. "Very well."
Pathak casually plucked a juice from a passing tray, sipping before motioning Rohit toward the center of the grand hall. His tone was asured, almost too relaxed, as though guiding Rohit was just another errand in his long day.
"Look over there, Young Master," he said, pointing discreetly toward a cluster of guests gathered near the stage. "That’s Mahesh Chambani—the patriarch himself. India’s most powerful industrialist. Beside him, in silver saree, is his wife, Nikita Chambani."
Rohit followed his line of sight. He had seen the Chambanis countless tis in headlines and business magazines, but witnessing them up close was... different. They looked almost humble in appearance, but the way the crowd revolved around them radiated power and charisma.
Pathak leaned closer, lowering his voice.
"And that man is Masato Fujimura, senior official from Takamura Heavy Industries. They’re bringing in a defense and tro-rail trade deal with the Indian governnt, and naturally, the Chambanis are their Indian partners."
Rohit frowned slightly. He couldn’t tell why, but Fujimaro’s deanor felt familiar. Maybe it was because he was Japanese, yet sothing in Rohit’s instincts told him they shared so kind of history.
No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t recall anything. So he shrugged it off and asked the obvious,"So? What does that an for the Singhanias?"
Pathak smiled. "Giants like them may rule nationally, but they still need regional alliances. That’s where the Singhanias are trying to step in. For now, it ans being subordinates, but once we’re part of the ecosystem, it won’t be difficult to push in our own stakes with investnts."
Rohit humd . "I see... so we’re not the only ones after those regional alliances."
Pathak looked pleased at Rohit’s deduction.
"Exactly. In North India alone, five families fight for influence under the Chambani faction. Four of them are here tonight. First, us. Second, the Ahujas—sotis allies, sotis adversaries. Third, the Mittals—our strongest rivals. And fourth, the Goenkas from the central plains."
Rohit nodded, though his eyelids grew heavy with fatigue. The endless talk of factions and hierarchies weighed him down. It was vital for survival, he knew that, but too tangled to easily grasp—who was truly in charge, and who was just pretending?
Pathak noticed his yawn and reassured him.
"Don’t worry, I’ll explain all the hierarchy."
From him, Rohit learned sothing surprising: even the rich in India had their own classes, factions, and ranks—things the dia rarely reported. At the top, the wealthy were divided into two great blocs. The old and traditional supported the Tatas, while the new and rising groups rallied behind the Chambanis.
In their tug-of-war, the Chambanis had gained the upper hand, dominating dostic markets and politics. That was why the Singhanias—though an old dynasty—had sided with them.
At the regional level, these families acted like lieutenants, managing businesses, networks, and influence for the faction. Layers upon layers of hierarchy, main branches, and sub-branches—all interconnected.
What amused Rohit was the paradox: these families might feud regionally, but when outsiders threatened, they instantly united as one faction. Effective managent, he thought. Ruthless, but effective.
Pathak then steered him through introductions, pointing out the young scions of the attending families. Their role tonight was simple: make their presence felt, attract attention, and gain favor in hopes of winning Chambani recognition.
"The Ahujas sent Danesh Ahuja. Elegant, disciplined—always the gentleman type."
Rohit’s gaze shifted to a striking girl dressed in a daring gown with a high slit and sleeveless cut that showed off her figure.
"That’s Ishita Goenka," Pathak explained. "Sharp, ambitious, and not afraid to make an impression."
Finally, Rohit’s eyes fell on soone all too familiar—Jayesh Mittal. Stylish, confident, the kind of man who seed to own every room he entered. He laughed easily with won and chard older guests as if it were second nature.
Rohit’s jaw tightened. mories surged of the boy’s snake-like sches, his ability to ruin without ever dirtying his hands. Their first clash had been when Rohit was ten—he had broken Jayesh’s nose, only for Jayesh to twist the story, turning Rohit into the villain and shaming him for years.
That was the past. Not anymore.
Rohit steadied himself. "Alright. But what about the Chambani heirs? You said they ca too."
Pathak sighed. "Two children. The son is your age, but... irrelevant. The elder daughter is sensible. She hasn’t arrived yet."
Rohit raised a brow. "Why irrelevant?"
Right then, a loud outburst cut through the music.
"Kill, kill, kill! Shoot the bastard! Revive , you idiot—damn it, NO!"
A hush fell briefly before the crowd resud as though nothing had happened. The source was an overdressed young man slouched in a chair, headphones on, screaming at his phone while playing PUBG. His appearance was refined, but his behavior was the opposite.
Pathak shook his head. "That’s their son. Spoiled to the core. Anyone who tried approaching him was insulted outright. People tolerate it only because he’s their heir. Best ignored."
Rohit’s lips curved in faint amusent. "A spoiled heir, huh. Makes sense."
Pathak clapped him lightly on the shoulder, grabbing another drink from a passing tray.
"So, Young Master, this is your playground tonight. Mingle around, test the waters, see who bites. Don’t worry—I’ll keep an eye from the sidelines. You’ve got the charm; I’ve got the explanations if you get lost. Deal?"
Rohit offered a polite smile while his inner thoughts curled sharp.
"Thanks for keeping my back," he said aloud.
But inwardly?
’Lazy bastard. You want a show? I’ll give you one.’
************************************************************
A/N//:
Most real, well-known business family nas have not been included to avoid controversy. This is not ant as any form of disrespect.
Also, feel free to check out the new artwork gallery Chapter in the Auxiliary volu. I know so of you made specific requests for character images, but I have sothing different in mind for presenting them—and you may even be able to guess the images beforehand.
Reviews
All reviews (0)