The heavy mahogany doors of the study felt like they were slowly locking me into a room with a phantom.

I stood perfectly straight, my boots anchored against the polished wood floor, forcing my spine to remain rigid.

My palms were sweating, a cold, slick moisture that made me want to clench my hands into tight fists, but I kept my posture completely still.

I refused to let him see the microscopic tremor in my fingers.

I kept my eyes locked directly onto his, matching his piercing, predatory gaze with every ounce of willpower I had left in my body.

"So, you won't leave the doctor profession?"

my dad, Martin Roy, asked.

His voice didn't carry any anger.

It was smooth, perfectly level, and ice-cold.

That was always the most terrifying thing about my father; his temper never erupted like a volcano.

It froze over like a glacier, cutting through the air and lowering the temperature of the entire room until it became hard to draw a proper breath.

"Yes, Dad," I replied, swallowing hard to force my voice to remain steady.

"I am not leaving my patients. I am not abandoning Grand Roy Hospital. I spent seven years sacrificing everything to build that place up, and I won't step down now."

My dad leaned back slowly in his heavy leather executive chair.

He didn't blink.

He just casually adjusted the solid gold cufflinks at his wrists, a calculated, rhythmic movement that showed he was entirely unbothered by my sudden defiance.

He let the heavy silence stretch between us, using the quiet as a psychological weapon until the air in the study felt thick enough to suffocate me.

"No, do one thing," my dad murmured, a sudden, dark calm settling over his sharp features.

"I have a solution for this."

"Really? Tell me, Dad!"

For a single, fleeting second, an overwhelming wave of relief and pure happiness rushed through my veins.

My chest expanded as I took a deep breath.

A naive, childish part of me genuinely believed that the wall between us was finally cracking

. I thought he was finally seeing me—not as a corporate asset or a pawn on his commercial chessboard, but as his son who wanted to save human lives.

But that short-lived joy completely shattered into a million jagged pieces the very moment my dad's next words left his lips.

"I have a plan for you, marry a girl i arrange for you" he said smoothly, his eyes narrowing into cold slits as he watched my expression change.

"Do that, and I will allow you to stay in your dream job."

The words hit me like a physical blow to the chest, knocking the air straight out of my lungs.

The entire room seemed to tilt on its axis, the towering bookshelves and rich leather furniture closing in on me.

The raw shock instantly transformed into pure, unadulterated panic.

I raised my voice, the frantic tone echoing loudly off the cold, unyielding walls of the grand study.

"No, Dad! It can't be possible! I won't do it!"

"Why?"

My dad’s voice dropped an octave, turning into a dangerous, quiet whisper that made the small hairs on the back of my neck stand up straight.

"Do you like anyone? According to the strict deal we made seven years ago, you don't like any girl. Your heart is supposedly free."

I stood there, completely paralyzed, the crushing weight of his manipulation settling over my shoulders.

So this was your long-time plan, I thought bitterly, my teeth grinding together so hard my jaw ached.

That is why you let me leave back then.

You didn't give me freedom; you just cleared my schedule for a strategic corporate alliance.

"Answer my question first, Dad!" I shot back, my chest heaving rapidly as the anger finally overtook the panic.

"I kept my word! I locked myself in my room, buried myself in medical textbooks, and never looked at another person.

I never liked anyone! But I want to marry a girl who can like me because of my own self—for Sanjay, not for Sanjay Roy!

I don't want a random stranger forced into my life, and I absolutely refuse to lose my doctor profession!"

My anger level increased to a dangerous, blinding peak.

The fury drumming in my veins was so intense that I couldn't stand to look at his frozen, calculating face for another second.

I couldn't take the suffocating atmosphere of his house. Without waiting for a dismissal, I turned around on my heel and walked straight out of the study, slamming the heavy oak door behind me.

I was so profoundly furious that I shut myself away from the world.

I drove back to my space, refusing to answer calls, refusing to look at messages, and completely avoiding every single human being for the rest of the day.

The next day, the tension hadn't faded. I was back in the mansion, standing by the grand hallway when my dad came to find me.

His expression was eerily calm, the shadow of our massive argument completely vanished from his face.

"Sanjay, you know me very well," he said, stepping into my line of sight.

"Don't let that Martin deal with you. Just do what I say. Accept the arrangement."

I raised my voice again, anchoring my feet firmly to the floor, refusing to give an inch of ground.

"Dad, if you force me into this, nothing will solve anything. I won't do it. I will not sign my life away to a stranger."

Before he could offer a counter-argument or let his anger flare, the sharp, demanding ringtone of his phone cut through the hallway.

He checked the screen, his eyes flashing with a sudden corporate intensity.

He got the call, gave me one last unreadable look, and went outside the room into the quiet corridor to talk.

As soon as the heavy door clicked shut, leaving me alone in the space, John, my dad's chief assistant, stepped closer to me from the shadows of the room.

He had been standing there silently the entire time.

"Sanjay, don't talk rudely with your dad," John said softly.

The moment he spoke, I could feel a strange sensation tightening in my chest.

Why was my burning anger suddenly starting to cool down now?

The raw fury felt like it was hitting a wall, but my defenses were still up.

I looked at John, my voice dripping with defensive frustration.

"Why are you talking in favor of my dad's side, John? You are his best assistant, I know that.

But just imagine if anyone tells you to leave your life's work after you have completely finished it!

After seven years of sleepless hospital nights! How can I just get back to that work time if he tears it away from me now?

If my dad didn't want me to be a doctor, then why did he accept my choice back then?

Why did he let me go?"

My words were exceptionally rude, and the sharp edge in my voice cut through the quiet room.

I knew I was taking my anger out on the wrong person, but the confusion was driving me insane.

But then John looked at me, a deep, sorrowful look in his eyes, and said,

"Yes. Exactly this question, I asked him when you started studying seven years ago."

I completely froze, my breath catching in my throat as I stared at him.

"Your dad said, 'I have only him in this world, John. Sanjay has me.'" John eyed me intently, his voice carrying the weight of a long-hidden truth.

"For the first time in his life, I saw him look so vulnerable, and I thought, why should I ask him not to do it?

Sanjay, your dad didn't send you away to play with your life or torment you. "

He just wanted to give you whatever you wanted.

"Your dad may not know how to express it to you, but he always likes you, and he wanted to give you whatever you liked."

John took a deep, heavy breath, his gaze steady.

"When you returned and asked for the hospital, I was the one who asked him, 'Sir, what if your son doesn't listen to you?' Do you know what your father said to me? He said, 'He is my son. He will remain on his word.' "

"He trusted you completely, Sanjay. He knew you would keep your promise and never look at a girl while studying."

Hearing John's words, the burning, defensive anger inside my chest completely melted away like snow under a hot sun.

The monstrous image of my father started to fade, replaced by the reality of a silent, lonely man who had protected my dream in his own twisted, distant way.

Just then, the door clicked open.

My dad came back into the room, sliding his phone into his pocket.

He walked over with slow, deliberate steps and observed my face, his sharp eyes instantly noticing that my rigid posture had softened and my expression was slightly normal again.

"What happened, Sanjay?" my dad asked, his tone neutral.

I looked down at the floor, my throat completely dry, the rage entirely gone.

"Nothing, Dad."

"Sanjay, why don't we get a bet?"

my dad proposed, a sudden, immense wave of confidence radiating from his posture.

"If you win this, do as your wish. You keep your hospital and your choices. But if you lose this time, no more arguments like this anymore. You follow my path."

I clearly saw that highly confident look on my dad's face.

He always looked and sounded exactly like this when he was starting to set an inescapable trap.

But whatever the terms might be, I knew I had to face it.

I had to win this bet to save my dream job and find a true dream wife in my life—someone who would love me for exactly who I was, so I could live the rest of my days without a single regret.

But as I nodded my head to accept, one chilling thought kept swirling in the dark corners of my mind.

My dad is terrifyingly smart.

He never, ever accepts a challenge until he believes he has already won the match.

So this time, what is my dad's real master plan?