SHATTERED HER HEART

Samira’s POV “Rene, at sharp four we meet them, and by six we leave this bloody place,” I snapped, my voice slicing through the quiet like a whip. The words hung in the air, heavier than I intended. I’m not always this sharp — usually I’m the cool, approachable boss, the one who remembers birthdays, who cracks jokes in boardrooms, who insists interns sit at the same table as executives. But Nainital… Nainital was dragging out the worst version of me for some reason. My poor secretary froze, her pen hovering midair, eyes wide as though I had just committed a crime against humanity. Rene — Irene Savio — to the rest of the world — was my PA. But to me, she was far more than that. She was my anchor, my compass, the steady hand that kept the machinery of Infinity Group running smoothly behind the scenes. She coordinated schedules, managed negotiations, and handled the backend chaos of a multinational empire with the precision of a surgeon. It’s barely been a year since I officially stepped into the role of acting CEO. Every day feels like a test, every decision a trial by fire but Irene she was there throughout helping me supporting me even guiding me at times. Here I had to prove myself, for the board to see me as worthy and capable, and only then my father— the man who built this empire with sweat and blood— can finally hand it over knowing it rests in capable hands. My journey here wasn’t handed to me. I carved it out, piece by piece, with grit and sleepless nights. I started as an assistant to my father back in junior year, shadowing him through endless meetings, learning not from textbooks but from the battlefield of boardrooms. During those early days, he made me serve coffee and water during board meetings, deliver files across departments, and sit quietly in corners while titans of industry debated strategies that would shape futures. I was the daughter of the CEO, but no one knew. And that anonymity was my greatest lesson. It stripped me of privilege and forced me to earn respect the hard way. During undergrad, I interned at the company in the financial planning and analysis department for years and later worked as an junior employee in the operations and strategic planning department until I completed my MBA, even then no one knew my real identity. They were familiar with me but still to them, I was just another intern — anonymous, invisible. My father insisted on it. He believed that only by walking in the shoes of every employee, even the ones serving coffee or carrying files, would I learn to respect the backbone of the empire he had built and I never wanted the easy way in. I wanted to prove myself, to show every employee that I deserved this position not because I was the founder’s daughter, but because of my work, because I had the grit, the vision, and the discipline to lead. Late nights blurred into dawns, reports piled high on my desk, and I learned to survive in rooms filled with seasoned professionals who didn’t care who I was — they cared only about results. Slowly, I proved myself. Slowly, I earned my place. Though I took on responsibilities slowly, step by step, balancing coursework with corporate deadlines, undergrad with boardroom battles, postgrad with international negotiations — It was Irene who made that possible. With her help, I achieved milestones that silenced doubters. I earned respect, confidence, and trust — not just from the board, but from every employee who now looks at me as their leader. Her journey mirrored mine. She started as an assistant to one of the managers, endured her own hardships, and proved herself until she won over everyone — including my father. When I began taking on more responsibilities, he entrusted her with guiding me through every step. She was brilliant— five years older than me more matured more experienced, fluent in ten languages, indispensable in international deals. Yes, my father built Infinity Group with sweat and blood. But the authority I hold today, the trust I command— it exists because I fought for it, and because Irene stood beside me, unwavering, ensuring I never faltered. Now, here I stand— a woman representing Infinity Group, making deals that shape futures. And on my first international deal — the one my father and the board of directors entrusted me to single‑handedly handle, to make the call, to make the decision, to negotiate— I was losing my tolerance and patience. And I yelled at the person who had stood beside me through thick and thin. For the first time, I had ever raised my voice at her. Irene— the one person who had endured my quirks with patience, who had never once faltered in her loyalty. Honestly, she could have built her own empire, but she chose to stand beside me. And I had just lashed out at her for no fault of hers and I could clearly see how much I hurt her by snapping at her. “Miss Gilbert” she began softly, her voice trembling, her eyes darting nervously as though she feared I might lash out again. “I’ll make sure everything is ready.” I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose, frustration pressing down like a storm cloud. “I know, Ren. Don’t take it personally. It’s not you. It’s this place.” Her lips pressed into a thin line, but she nodded. Loyal as ever. Then, after a pause, she added carefully, “You know, Sam, sometimes the places we hate the most are the ones that force us to face what we’ve been running from. Maybe this meeting will be different. It might heal something you never knew was broken and needed healing.” I shot her a look, half amused, half annoyed. “Oh, thank you, Irene, for the unsolicited wisdom. Should I start calling you my therapist now?” She smiled faintly, knowing my sarcasm was my way of softening the sting of truth. “I’m just saying… maybe Mr. Malhotra isn’t as bad as you think.” I groaned. “Don’t start. Everyone seems to be singing his praises. My father practically worships the man, and now you too? What is this, a fan club?” Irene chuckled nervously. “I’m not in a fan club, Sam. I just… I’ve read about him. He’s respected. And if your father believes in him, maybe there’s something worth seeing.” I waved her off, unwilling to entertain the thought. “Respect doesn’t mean I have to like him. And I don’t. End of story.” If I had a choice I would have never come to this place but unfortunately this deal was important for our companies expansion plans and it was necessary for someone of higher authority and power to personally supervise and negotiate this deal. Whereas everyone working with me is older, seasoned, and I prefer learning from them rather than bossing them around. Dad may be the CEO on paper, but I am the decision-maker and now I’m the one who negotiates billion-dollar contracts, who sits across from men twice my age and makes them sweat. And yet, I’m also the one who remembers birthdays, who treats interns like equals, who insists that hierarchy doesn’t define worth so I don't feel its fare to force any of my employees to travel to another country for business deals this time around the year. Moreover it was another opportunity to prove myself and negotiate a better deal, well at least that's how my father convinced me. But after reaching here, in Nainital, the patience, the warmth — it evaporated, leaving behind only irritation and dread. And thanks to my father, I’m stuck here, forced to finalize a deal with the oh-so-great Vivaan Malhotra. Vivaan Malhotra. The name itself carried weight, like a brand: Malhotra Industries— India’s golden dynasty. I had done my homework: Oxford graduate, raised here in Nainital and Liverpool, from a political family; his parents are currently settled in Scotland, but he chose to play the dutiful grandson in Delhi, expanding the empire. Handsome bachelor, mysterious, private, adventurous and a successful businessman, practically dripping with charm. My father thinks he’s a gem. I think he’s a nuisance especially when I heard my dad praise him like never before. And of course, Vivaan insisted on meeting me here, at his resort by Nainital Lake. Not his office, not London— no, he had to drag me back to the one country I swore I’d never return. The irony was almost poetic. Why here? Why not anywhere else? My mind kept circling that question like a vulture, picking at the bones of my irritation.