© 2025 Alena. All rights reserved.
No part of Twisted Lies may be copied, reproduced, or distributed in any form without the author's written permission. This work is protected under copyright law. Unauthorized use, reproduction, or adaptation is strictly prohibited and punishable by law
In the hall, the polished elegance of the party seemed to dim around them. Where laughter and polite conversation once filled the air, now there was silence—a heavy, watchful pause—as two formidable humans stood face to face.
prakriti Malhotra expression was composed, but her eyes blazed with fire. Not the reckless kind, but the controlled, sharp kind—the kind that meant every word spoken was deliberate and final.
Mrs. niharika Agnihotri, stood with the kind of presence that could silence a room with a glance. But tonight, that glance was not enough.
"You may control a room, Mrs. Agnihotri," prakriti said, voice low and laced with steel, "but you don't control me."
A few heads turned. A server nearby paused mid-step.
niharika narrowed her eyes, her smile the kind that didn't reach her eyes. "Control? Don't flatter yourself. I only speak when things begin to stink of incompetence."
"And yet," prakriti replied, unblinking, "you've said quite a lot tonight."
A slow gasp rippled from someone nearby.
For a second, something flickered niharika gaze—respect, maybe. Or calculation.
"You have spirit," she said finally, her voice like velvet over glass. "Dangerous, unpolished… but spirit nonetheless"
That struck a nerve
Ishika watching from across the room flinched slightly, but prakriti didn't move.
prakriti said coolly. "It's about you crossing a line."
"And you," niharika replied, smile fading now, "thinking you have the power to draw one."
Their voices didn't rise, but the intensity was thunderous. Every word was like a move on a chessboard—measured, threatening, impossible to ignore.
As the tension crackled between the them, Mrs. Agnihotri's gaze flicked briefly only for a second as she saw prakriti fierceness
Something shifted in niharika sharp, calculating eyes. A thought. A whisper in her mind.
That stance… that defiance. Where have I seen it before?
And then it hit her.
That girl's subtle stubbornness, the fire tucked just behind her words—it was eerily familiar. Almost like… him.
That man.
Renowned, ruthless, impossible to argue with in court: Ishank Malhotra whose name could shake a courtroom with a single objection. Her thoughts stalled for half a second. Could there be a connection? A resemblance not in blood, but in attitude?
She didn't speak it aloud. She didn't have to. She stored the thought like a loaded weapon for later.
But the moment was interrupted—dramatically.
The doors parted as Ruhaan Agnihotri entered the scene. Sharp suit, sharper eyes, walking with that casual arrogance that unsettled even the most powerful in the room. The crowd parted instinctively, giving him space as if he owned it.
niharika jaw clenched—not from his arrival, but from what followed.
A second later, Ishika walked in.
The younger sister of the girl niharika had just been arguing with.
Wearing his son blazer.
niharika eyes narrowed. The sight was clear, the message unspoken. But she didn't react. She knew better than to start a fire she couldn't control. Because if she said a word about the blazer, her son wouldn't let her get a moment in. He'd pounce. Question. Defend.
And she wasn't ready to lose the upper hand.
So she tucked the observation behind a neutral expression, locking eyes instead on that "brat" of a girl—who dared misbehave, dared disobey.
No, the blazer wasn't the focus. Not now.
Her real problem was standing in front of her, chin raised, eyes proud.
And niharika Abhishek Agnihotri never let disobedience slide.
Niharika had lost her calm mask. Her lips were pressed thin, eyes blazing. "You think just because you studying in rosewood and learned a few big words, you can challenge me?" she hissed.
prakriti stepped forward, unafraid. "No. I challenge you because you're wrong. And someone in this room needs to say it."
Another crash—this time a tray, dropped by a trembling server who hadn't anticipated the storm breaking out in the middle of chandeliers and champagne.
Gasps spread through the crowd like fire on dry leaves.
And then came the intervention—late, but frantic.
Aditya Agnihotri rushed forward, pushing through the stunned guests. "Enough!" he said, voice raised for the first time that night. "Both of you, stop it! it's an anniversary party, not a courtroom!"
But neither of them turned to him. His voice might have carried weight in School meetings and family gatherings, but here, it dissolved against the steel of their stubbornness.
Niharika pointed a perfectly manicured finger at the girl. "She insulted me in front of everyone. Do you expect me to smile and sip tea after that"
"I expect you to act like the dignified woman you pretend to be in your interviews," prakriti shot back.
niharika exhaled sharply, clearly biting back everything she wanted to say. Her eyes flicked to the Ishika one last time—still in that blazer, still holding her ground.
But she said nothing. For now
niharika agnihotri hand shot upward, trembling with rage. She had never been spoken to like that—not in her home, not in front of her guests.
Her palm hovered mid-air, fingers twitching, eyes locked on the prakriti face. Fury twisted her features.
Gasps rippled through the crowd. No one moved. No one breathed.
But before her hand could even move close—
but a forces closed in from her sides.
Her elder son 'aditya agnihotri' gripped her wrist. Firmly. Not hard—but just enough to stop her. His voice, cold as steel, broke through the gasps:
"No."
Mrs. Agnihotri yanked her hand back, breath heaving, her pride wounded beyond measure.
The room stood frozen, watching power and chaos clash like thunderclouds.
Gasps again.
"You're both making a scene—"
"No," niharika cut aditya in mid, her voice sharp enough to slice through the tension. "She's making a scene. I'm ending it."
niharika turned her glare to the Ishika Malhotra—the girl still in the blazer, the girl she had tried to ignore. But now, all bets were off.
"You," she said coldly. "Take that off. You're not entitled to wear anything that belongs to my son."
But before the Ishika could respond—before anyone could even breathe—another voice cut through the room like a blade.
"Then maybe you should ask to son of your husband why he gave it to her"
Just when the air couldn't get any heavier, the entrance doors creaked open once again.
In swept her—Mrs. Vyomika Kapoor Dressed in layers of silk and superiority, jewelry that chimed like warning bells, and a smirk that always meant trouble.
"Well, well," she said loudly enough for everyone to hear, clasping her hands with theatrical delight. "I leave for ten minutes and come back to what? A family drama reunion or a street-side brawl?"
The crowd stirred nervously
She slowly walked toward the center, her sharp eyes landing first on the Ishika in the blazer, then on the prakriti—both of whom stood their ground."I see the brats are still pretending they belong in respectable company," she said with a sugary smile laced in venom. "Honestly, what else can we expect from their bloodline?"
That was it. The room collectively inhaled. prakriti eyes flashed, Ishika stiffened. But before either could speak—
"Enough!"
It wasn't the sisters who snapped.
It was him.
Ruhaan Agnihotri
The one who'd pretend kept his cool, played the part of the silent observer. But now?
He lost his patience snapped
His voice boomed across the hall, sharp enough to cut through every whisper, every gasp.
"You will not talk about them like that!" he shouted, eyes blazing, chest rising and falling with rage.
Vyomika blinked, shocked. No one had ever raised their voice to her like that. Not in this house. Not in public.
"I've kept quiet long enough," he continued, stepping forward. "You've insulted them, mocked them, questioned their place here like you run this family. But guess what? You don't."
He turned to niharika. "And you either, not tonight. Not after turning this party into a battlefield just because you couldn't handle someone telling you the truth."
The room was dead silent. No one dared interrupt.
His gaze moved to the Ishika—still wearing his blazer, still silent. "They've had more grace than any of you."
And then, to his bua Vyomika kapoor again "So if you have anything else to say, make sure it's something you're ready to answer for. Loudly. Because I'm done whispering."
a soft voice slipped through the tension.
"I think… they don't deserve this"
Everyone turned.
It was Shanaya Kapoor Known for staying quiet at every gathering, always hide behind the tables to ignore the dramas.
She wasn't someone who often took a side—let alone spoke in the middle of chaos.
But now Shanaya stepped slightly forward, not boldly, but enough.
Her voice was low, but her words were clear.
"They didn't do anything to deserve this kind of treatment," Shanaya said, glancing toward the prakriti and Ishika.
Her gaze then moved briefly to niharika "Maybe… it's time to stop blaming people for things they haven't done."
Shanaya didn't say more. She didn't need to. Her soft tone quieted the noise more effectively than another shout would have.
niharika lips pressed into a thin line, her pride wounded by the gentle defiance.
Before the tension could rise again, Aditya Agnihotri—calm and composed, always the peacemaker stepped forward.
"All of you, please," he said, holding his hands up. "Let's not make this worse."
He looked at Vyomika, then his mother. "You both know this isn't how it should be. This was supposed to be a celebration, not a spectacle."
His voice held the weight of quiet authority—firm but not aggressive. The kind of voice that carried across a room without demanding it.
Shanaya gently stepped back, eyes dropping to the floor again. But the impact of her words still lingered.
prakriti Malhotra, still furious but now trembling slightly, looked at him. Aditya gently reached out, placing a calming hand on her shoulder. She didn't pull away—but she didn't relax either.
prakriti tried to steady her breath. Her hands were clenched at her sides, nails biting into her palms, and her jaw was tight with restrained fury.
Aditya leaned in quietly, voice calm, soothing—too calm.
"Enough now," he said. "Please. Let it go. Just step back."
She turned her head slowly toward him, her eyes wide with disbelief.
"Let it go?" she hissed under her breath. "You saw what your mom was about to do. And I'm the one who needs to let it go?"
"I'm not saying she was right," he murmured, trying to keep the peace. "I'm saying this isn't the place—"
"No, you're always saying that," she snapped, still quiet enough not to draw the whole room's attention, but sharp as a whip. "You always want me to back down. Smile. Be silent. Keep it polite."
He looked at her, surprised by the edge in her tone. "That's not fair—"
She laughed bitterly. "Isn't it? You never say anything when they tear us apart with words. But the moment I raise mine, you step in."
He opened his mouth to defend himself, but she wasn't done.
"Don't you dare tell me to be quiet just because my anger makes you uncomfortable. This is my battle, too."
TO BE CONTINUED...