Page 6 of Trapped By the Maharaja
Each slide was accompanied by accolades, family histories, and social impact figures. Every woman was tied to a prestigious royal lineage, each more accomplished than the last.
Ram sat rigid in his chair. Across the table, Bharat had gone still. Samar leaned forward slightly, eyes narrowed, and Viraj tapped a single finger against the table, amused.
As the final image faded, silence prevailed for a while.
Ram kept his eyes on his mother as the lights returned to full brightness. His mother sat at the head of the table, her gazemoving from one son to the next, but when her eyes settled on Ram, they didn’t waver.
“I know this comes as a surprise,” she said calmly, her hands clasped before her. “But I wanted you all to hear it from me first, before it appears in the press or trickles down through the trustees.”
Ram knew that his mother's announcement would be more than just a charity event or a PR crisis.
“The Royal Trust Board convened last week,” she continued. “They passed a resolution regarding succession and inheritance. With all of you leading global ventures independently, the Board is concerned about the continuity of our lineage, our responsibilities and our name.”
Ram’s jaw tensed.
His mother continued, her voice unwavering. “The Trust has ruled that for any claim to royal inheritance, titles, or governance rights, heirs must be born within the sanctity of marriage. No exceptions. Furthermore…” His mother paused, holding Ram’s gaze. “A deadline has been issued. All heirs must be born before the age of thirty-five.”
Ram was thirty-two.
“I understand why the Trust has made the decree,” Ram’s mother said more quietly. “The board fears the rise of fragmentation, disputes, and power dilution. They want a future secured through order.”
She stepped away from the table and walked slowly to the tall windows behind her. Her reflection shimmered faintly in the glass.
“I’ve watched each of you build legacies of your own. But you are still Maharajas of royal houses. This legacy is not only yours, it’s something you will pass on. Or let die.”
Silence reigned.
Ram remained still as he processed his mother’s words.
Marriage. Heir. All within three years. The timeline was made deliberately tight.
He met his mother’s gaze again as she turned back to face them.
“I have presented options,” she said softly. “You are free to choose or reject them. But you must act.”
Ram spoke, his voice low but steady. “And if we don’t?”
His mother didn’t react. Her composure remained regal as always.
“Then the titles passed on from your fathers will go elsewhere. And in your case, Ram, the title will pass to your cousin Rishan.”
A flicker of something dark stirred in Ram’s chest at the mention of that name.
Rishan.
Rishan had always resented him for being the one to hold the royal title. The cousin who had spent years circling the family name like a hawk, waiting for weakness. Ram knew the board couldn't see past Rishan's carefully cultivated image. But Ram knew the truth. Rishan’s ambition masked a venomous jealousy and hunger for power. Ram had always ignored Rishan, considering him a pesky nuisance, until Rishan stole the one thing Ram desired the most.
The darkness inside Ram’s chest grew further.
“I’ve prepared folders with details on the royal eligible brides,” Ram’s mother stated.
Lifting a hand, she signaled Mira, who immediately moved forward and placed sleek black folders before each son.
“Ram, as the eldest, you’ll have first pick. I will be planning a grand event in the Devara palace in two months’ time, inviting all the eligible princesses. Two months is a long time for the four of you to free your time to attend the event.”
His mother then smiled gently. “Now, enough of this seriousness. Join me for lunch. The palace cooks haveprepared your favorite dishes. Also, pay your respects to your grandmother. I’ve taken an appointment, so she will be expecting you.”
Without waiting for a reply, she turned and walked out.
