The Rebel Heiress: Raised as a Son

Chapter 15: The Shattered Crown

The morning after the Masquerade Ball, the air in the Singh Mansion was thick with the scent of old wood and impending doom. Abhi stood in the middle of her room, the small jasmine flower Dev had tucked into her pocket now lying withered on her nightstand. It was a silent ticking bomb.

"Abhi! Downstairs, NOW!"

Her father’s voice roared through the halls, shaking the very foundation of the mansion. Abhi’s heart hammered. She quickly adjusted her binder, threw on a charcoal-grey blazer, and ran down the grand staircase.

In the living room, Vikram Singh was staring at a tablet, his face a shade of purple Abhi had never seen. On the screen was a live news broadcast.

“Breaking News: Internal documents from the Singh Empire leaked. Allegations of a massive fraud and a hidden heir. Is the ‘Prince’ really who we think he is?”

Abhi felt the floor turn into water. "Father, I... I can explain."

"Explain what?!" Vikram turned, his eyes bulging. "The Malhotras have launched a full-scale media attack! They aren't just hitting our stocks; they’re hitting our bloodline! Someone sent an anonymous tip saying you aren't my son, Abhi. They’re demanding a DNA test and a public appearance without your ‘mask’."

Before Abhi could speak, the front gates of the mansion groaned open. A black SUV pulled up, and out stepped Dev Malhotra, looking like a god of destruction in a white silk shirt and dark trousers. He walked into the Singh Mansion as if he owned the place.

"Get out of my house, you vulture!" Vikram screamed, reaching for his phone to call security.

"I’m here to save you, Vikram," Dev said, his voice smooth and cold. He didn't look at the older man; his eyes were locked on Abhi. "The media is outside. The board members are calling for your resignation. You have ten minutes before the Singh Empire collapses."

Dev walked closer to Abhi, his presence overwhelming the room. He leaned in, ignoring the furious Vikram. "I have the power to stop the leak, Abhi. I can tell the world it was all a technical glitch. I can save your father’s crown."

"What’s the price, Dev?" Abhi whispered, her eyes burning with tears she refused to shed.

Dev’s hand moved, his fingers brushing against her blazer’s lapel. "The price is simple. You leave this house. You leave the name 'Abhi Singh' behind. You come with me, as a woman, and you never wear a suit again. You belong to the Malhotra household. My ward. My... everything."

Vikram Singh gasped. "What are you talking about? Abhi is my SON! He is the heir!"

Dev laughed, a dry, mocking sound. "He? Look at her, Vikram. You’ve been so blinded by your greed for a son that you didn't even notice your own daughter was dying under the weight of your expectations."

Dev turned back to Abhi, his voice dropping to a whisper. "The cameras are at the gate, Abhi. You can walk out there as a Prince and watch your father go to prison for fraud and identity theft. Or you can walk out there as a girl, under my protection, and I’ll make all the charges disappear. Choose."

Abhi looked at her father. Vikram Singh wasn't looking at her with love; he was looking at her with desperation, hoping his 'son' would save his money. Then she looked at Dev. He was a monster, a manipulator, but in his eyes, she saw something she had never seen in her father’s—he saw her.

"I'm done," Abhi said, her voice finally clear and resonant.

She reached up and slowly began to unbutton her blazer. She took it off and threw it on the floor. Then, with a shaking hand, she reached for her hair and messed up the neat, masculine styling.

"Abhi, what are you doing?!" Vikram screamed.

"My name is not Abhi," she said, looking her father in the eye for the last time. "My name is Abhinaya. And I am not your heir. I am a woman who is tired of living your lie."

She turned to Dev, her face a mask of cold determination. "I’ll go with you. Not because I belong to you, but because I’m done belonging to him. But remember this, Dev Malhotra—you might have destroyed the Prince, but you have no idea what the Princess is capable of."

Dev’s smirk widened into a look of pure, dark triumph. He reached out his hand, and for the first time, Abhi took it willingly.

As they walked out of the mansion, the flashes of a hundred cameras exploded like fireworks. The Prince was dead. The Rebel Heiress had finally arrived.