Dusk to Dawn (The Legacy Duet - 1)

𝕯𝖊 𝖙𝖚𝖔

𝕸y brothers were wild cards.

I, on the other hand, was carefully planned and crafted, strategically created for the benefit of Mughal Co., only and solely for the company's benefit.

My whole life, I sat glued to my grandfather's side, touted around as the charming toddler so he could humanize the family. The company was a family-owned business, and our faces was what all of our business revolved around. When the charming baby girl spiel grew old, he ordered and brought advisors, stylists and even sent me to finishing school in Switzerland to chisel away at my personality. To sculpt and sand until all that was left on the surface was sunshine, charm, and wit. Because if we looked happy and invested, the investors and board of governors were satisfied, throwing their unequivocal support behind the business.

Growing up, people would always ask me, why did I work so hard? They would always ask in the same tone of voice - confused, pitying - the kind of tone that told me they were asking me a different question than their words alone conveyed. In that tone, I heard all the implications. The implication that I was wasting my life.

And that, in the end, was the answer.

Why was I working so hard? I was working so hard because none of it would ever be enough. I would continue until I had nothing left to give. Force myself through the grinding machinery of the mind.

I was the one who could never put a foot wrong. The only saving grace because God knows my brothers didn't care. Everything that they'd done - from Taimoor's relationship with my parents to Altamash's wedding and Azaan's exploits - came back to haunt the company.

I had never fully belonged to the Mughal world. It had been mine, but I'd never truly let it possess me. I was a creature of both worlds - the glittering and the normal, of both the ground and the sky. I bore no allegiance to either element or its denizens. I had no coddling compassion, no tears for the weak and the wandering.

But here I was. Weak and wandering.

Lost.

As I stood there, at the brink, with the building in front of me and the tang of deception and deceit in my throat, I felt no pity for the people I could see in the distance, borne aloft by ambition as high as the building itself.

The men in that building were doomed. Their bodies would settle onto the comfort and privilege of their job, where they would swell fat, then float, and then sink under the weight of their ambitions one last time. They would be bones in my domain. Well...not my domain, exactly. His domain. Altamash Mughal, soon to be King of the Corporate World. I didn't have many friends in the company and most of them were neutral parties, if not fully loyal to him.

The very thought curdled my stomach.

"It's her, isn't it?"
"She looks different from the photos."
"Should we talk to her? I think we should..."
"No, you never approach a Mughal. It's just not done."

I wanted to roll my eyes - hard - but instead, I schooled my features and prayed that the elevator ride would end soon. The blurry reflections of the women whispering behind me moved and I tried not to focus on them. Their voices sound unfamiliar, but I didn't want to know for sure if we were acquainted. Some might say that it was easier to navigate through life if you knew friend from foe. For me, it was both a process of elimination and a means of survival.

I just needed to get to my office.

Then I could start on my list of what I needed to require to get through this day. I just needed to open my email. Needed to say hello to person A, respond to person B, give an analysis of how buried my desk is with various projects needing approval, and I needed to avoid a certain CEO.