03

--※※--Shadows of Ambition--※※--

Raghav's POV

Standing by the sprawling window of my study, the hustle of the city below felt trivial in comparison to the chaos swirling in my mind. The view was an exquisite sight—glimmering skyscrapers piercing the horizon, a sea of bouncing cars under the golden sunset. Yet, amidst this architectural marvel, a storm brewed within me. My recent success with the merger had propelled , Malhotra Group of Industries to new heights, a feat I had fought tooth and nail for. Yet, it felt like I was standing alone at the pinnacle of a mountain, gazing down at a valley that was increasingly filled with resentment—specifically, from my brother, Ishan.

The weight of Ishan's silence hung in the air like a dense fog, suffocating any sense of accomplishment. I had spent countless nights strategizing over financial reports, and building connections that allowed my success to flourish, while he seemed content to drift through life without purpose. A part of me recognized that familial love should weave its own grace across the rift between us, yet the reality was stark; Ishan appeared to revel in his disdain for everything I accomplished.

I took a deep breath and glanced at the award resting on my desk—a shining symbol of my hard work and dedication. It was all I had, although it felt lonesome to cling to something that provided no comfort. My father's love was seldom given and always conditional—showered upon achievements, never upon bonds that should matter far more.

What troubled me most was the strained relationship between Ishan and me. I found myself grappling with the guilt of prioritizing success over family. My worries about Ishan had taken a backseat when success beckoned; my aspirations had rendered me blind to the actual repercussions my drive had on those I loved.

"Raghav?" A soft voice disrupted my spiraling thoughts.

I turned to see mom walk in, her brow slightly furrowed. "You need to talk to him."

"Talk to who?" I feigned ignorance, even though I knew exactly who she meant.

She crossed her arms, an arch of disappointment becoming ever clearer as her discontent bloomed. "To Ishan! He's been sulking for days. I overheard him say he's tired of living in your shadow."

My heart sank, but I don't care or do I anyways, "You know how he is, mom. I can't force him to be supportive," I replied, my tone def examining.

"But he's your brother," mom pressed back, her eyes narrowing. "You two can work this out. And also think about Rajan and Kavita "

Sighing, I nodded. Perhaps it was time. But when I thought about our last conversation, bitterness tightened in my throat like a noose. My triumphs loomed large in my memory, but I also remembered the cold wall that divided us—how my brother's resentment had cocooned him.

"Fine," I finally relented. "I'll talk to him."

As I left my office, a heavy weight of impending confrontation settled on my shoulders. I knew that facing the shadows between us was inevitable, but I couldn't shake the nagging doubt of whether I'd find more than jealousy lurking in the dark.

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Ishan's POV

Sitting on the balcony, I gazed out into the vastness, feeling smaller than the world spread before me. The sunset spilled golden rays over skyscrapers while I wrestled with the turmoil raging within. Raghav's resounding success echoed around me like a relentless ticking clock, each tick amplifying the simmering frustration buried deep in my chest. Everyone praised him as if I were a mere afterthought—just the lesser brother, lurking in the background of his brilliance.

My fingers flicked through my phone, the screen illuminated with snippets of Raghav's achievements plastered across various articles and social media posts. Anger coursed through my veins. Back when we were kids, we shared secrets and dreams. Now he had transformed into someone entirely different, a persona I could hardly recognize—a man of ambition who overshadowed me at every turn.

I picked up my drink, downing it in one go. The bitterness of scotch mirrored the feelings swirling within me. Jealousy, anger, and an overwhelming sense of powerlessness consumed me. It gnawed at my insides to see how effortlessly my brother navigated life's challenges. "He probably never even noticed I was struggling," I muttered under my breath, a line between guilt and resentment beginning to blur.

No one could ever possibly grasp the depths of this rivalry. I was sick of living in Raghav's shadow, burning with a need to prove my worth.

Minutes later, a soft knock at my door interrupted my thoughts. It was Raghav.

"What do you want?" I barked, letting my frustration seep into my tone.

"Can we talk?" His calm demeanor irritated me.

"Talk? Sure, let's talk about how I'm not good enough for this family," I shot back, sarcasm coating my words.

Raghav flinched slightly, but a resolute look settled in his eyes. "Ishan, I didn't come here to fight."

"Then what did you come for?" It was time to lay out the cards, to put the rivalry on the table. "To gloat about your latest victory?"

"I'm trying to understand you," he replied, his voice tense and edged. "Why do you keep pushing me away?"

I scoffed, bitterness rolling off my tongue. "Because you have created a burden I carry with every breath. Everyone wants me to be just like you."

"That's not my fault!" he shot back. "I can't change who I am."

"Of course you can't," I retorted, my own heart racing now. "You've won the family's accolades, leaving me with nothing but frustration."

A charged silence enveloped us, both of us waiting for the other to yield. In that moment of standoff, it was clear we stood tangled in a web of resentment and misunderstanding, our growing distance stretching further with each heartbeat.

"Maybe we should both take a look in the mirror," Raghav finally suggested, an ultimatum tucked into his words.

"Maybe we should!" I echoed back, the bitterness flooding my voice like molten lava.

"Fine," he said, stepping back with a shake of his head as if he had flicked off a switch in his mind. "I won't bother you if that's what you want."

And just like that, Raghav turned on his heel and left, the door closing softly behind him.

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Raghav's POV

As I stepped out of Ishan's room, the bitterness lingered, souring my thoughts. How had we allowed ourselves to drape in such hostility? Each word I uttered seemed to chip away at the fragile family ties I wanted to preserve.

We were brothers, meant to forge connections deeper than the currents of rivalry. Yet here we stood, spiraling further into resentment. Would I be brave enough to mend these frayed connections, or was our rivalry only beginning to cast deeper shadows over our lives?

The weight of inevitability settled upon my shoulders; the fight to salvage our bond had just begun. Yet there was a small voice whispering in the back of my mind, probing at the possibility of understanding, that it was time to step back from my achievements long enough to see the brother standing in my shadow.

With every step, I questioned my path. Would I have the courage to understand Ishan's plight, or would ambition and pride continue to dictate our relationship? In the delicate balance of brotherhood, the answer felt as elusive as the winds of change whispering through the city skyline.

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Author's POV

The private lounge of the Malhotra's club hummed with hushed conversations and the occasional clink of crystal glasses. Dim lighting cast elongated shadows on the deep mahogany walls, the scent of aged whiskey mingling with the faint trace of expensive cigars.

Ishaan Salian sat sprawled across the velvet armchair, his posture deceptively relaxed, but his jaw was tight. His father, Rajan Salian, leaned forward, a glass of scotch in his hand, his voice dipped in quiet persuasion.

"Raghav doesn't trust you with real power, Ishaan. He never has."

Ishaan scoffed, swirling the whiskey in his tumbler, watching the amber liquid catch the light. "That's nothing new. My dear older brother has always believed he's the only one competent enough to run the empire."

Rajan exhaled, a slow, measured sigh. "And he's wrong. You have vision. But Raghav—he's too controlled, too bound by his sense of duty. He hesitates, and in business, hesitation is fatal." He let the words settle, studying the way they took root in Ishaan's mind. Then, with calculated precision, he added, "But you? You see opportunities. You're willing to take risks."

Ishaan glanced at his father, something flickering in his gaze—doubt, intrigue, anger? A volatile mix. "So what, you're saying I should go against him?"

Rajan chuckled, swirling his drink. "I'm saying, my boy, that there's more than one way to lead. Raghav may hold the throne, but kings have fallen before."

The silence that followed was thick, stretching long enough for Ishaan's grip to tighten around his glass. And then, just as the tension threatened to settle into something dangerous, a voice cut through the quiet.

Smooth. Unhurried. Amused.

"That's an interesting conversation to walk in on."

Ishaan looked up, his frown deepening, but Rajan, he only smiled, as if he'd been expecting him.

The man who had spoken leaned against the doorway, his presence as effortless as it was unsettling. Dressed in a sharp charcoal suit, the top button of his shirt undone, he exuded a kind of poised authority that needed no announcement. His dark eyes, sharp and assessing, took in the room like he already knew every secret it held.

Aditya.

He stepped inside, slow and deliberate, his gaze settling on Ishaan. "Family politics," he mused, "fascinating as ever."

Ishaan straightened, his expression hardening. "Who are you and who invited you into this one?"

Aditya chuckled, stepping closer. "You did." He lifted a brow. "You just don't know it yet."

Something unspoken passed between them—a shift, an invitation wrapped in a challenge. And Ishaan, for all his resentment, found himself listening.

Rajan watched in silence, a satisfied gleam in his eye. The game had begun.

And Aditya?

He was already three moves ahead.

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