The city lights blurred into streaks of smeared defiance, mimicking the chaos inside her. Mahira stared at the signed documents clutched in her trembling hand, each elegant curve of Ansh Mehta’s signature a fresh stab to her gut. Her company. Not just a company, but a decade of her life, forged from scraped knees and sleepless nights, from sacrificed youth and unwavering belief. It had been her sanctuary, her proof, her everything. His now. And she? Bankrupt. Discarded like a broken toy. A hysterical laugh bubbled up, quickly choked back. Tears were a luxury she couldn't afford, not when the venom of betrayal still scorched her throat. Ansh, her partner, her confidant, the man she’d stupidly trusted with her vision and her future, had played her for a fool. He'd used her brilliance as a ladder to his own twisted ambition, then, once he stood atop the corporate summit, he'd kicked her down, ensuring her fall was not just painful, but utterly devastating. But Mahira Sharma wasn’t broken. Not yet. She was a phoenix, yes, ashes clinging to her skin, but the fire in her emerald eyes burned hotter than ever. An eye for an eye. A company for a soul. Ansh Mehta had declared war. He just didn't know his opponent had already found her weapon. A weapon as sharp, as dangerous, and as morally ambiguous as he was. Her gaze drifted past the rain-streaked window, across the glittering skyline, settling on the monolithic glass tower of Chauhan Enterprises. Yashwardhan Chauhan. The name alone carried a weight of ruthless efficiency and whispered dark dealings. Ansh’s most formidable rival. Mahira’s lips, usually curved in a sharp, sarcastic smile, thinned into a determined line. He didn't know it yet, but he was about to become her greatest, most dangerous ally. She would walk into his world, offer a bargain he couldn't refuse, and emerge victorious. Ansh would burn. And she would be the one to light the match.