The high-voltage tension inside the study did not break when my father stepped out to answer his phone.

 It simply simmered, a heavy, static weight that made it incredibly hard to draw a clean breath.

I stood perfectly straight, my hands balled into tight fists.

 My fingers were trembling with residual adrenaline as I tried to process the shattering truths John had just dropped on me.

The monstrous image of Martin Roy as a heartless dictator had completely vanished from my mind. 

In its place was a raw, aching vulnerability that I had never expected to feel toward him.

My face flushed deeply. A heavy warmth rushed to my cheeks as a sudden wave of intense emotion and crushing guilt completely washed over me.

The heavy wooden doors clicked open again.

My father walked back into the study, sliding his phone smoothly into his pocket.

 He opened his mouth, clearly prepared to resume our high-voltage war, but stopped dead in his tracks.

He stared directly at me, his sharp eyes narrowing in deep confusion. 

The fierce, defiant stance I had held just a few minutes ago was completely gone.

Before he could demand an explanation for why my anger had vanished, I took a deep, steadying breath.

 The defensive walls I spent years building were entirely gone.

"Dad," I said, my voice no longer shaking with rage, but with something entirely new.

 "About your condition... I am very clear now. I have to win this match. Dad, tell me. What is the bet?"

My father leaned back slightly, his expression shifting from confusion into a mask of total composure. 

The grandfather of corporate strategy was back in absolute control of the board.

He leaned forward, placing his hands flat on the mahogany desk. A razor-sharp glint returned to his eyes, cutting through the silence of the room.

"This is a two-year challenge," my father proposed, his voice dropping into a smooth, predatory purr. 

"Here are the conditions. If you have any objections, you can tell me."

He raised a single, rigid finger.

"First. For these two years, you have to stop working at the hospital. You must step down from your duties at Grand Roy Hospital completely, come to our company, and learn business from our top seniors."

"Dad, are you joking?" I raised my voice instantly, the sudden panic flaring back into my lungs. 

"I already told you I will never leave my job! I am a doctor!"

"Do you think I am joking, Sanjay?" he shot back, his voice slicing through my sudden defiance like a blade. 

"Listen carefully this time. You have to follow this if you don't want to lose the life you dreamed of."

He raised a second finger, boring his cold gaze straight into my soul.

"Second. While you learn the business, you can fall in love with a girl within these two years. But there is a catch: she must belong to our company only, or she must already possess solid business knowledge. That way, I can train the girl you like, and you can marry her."

He raised a third finger, tracking my shocked expression with absolute, cold satisfaction.

"Third. She has to love you honestly. You cannot hire an actress, find an ordinary person to play a part, or create a fake girlfriend. She must accept your genuine proposal and say yes to you before the exact deadline: the last day of the two-year bet, at precisely 10:30 PM. If she says yes but breaks up with you even a minute before the deadline, it will not be counted. The clock is absolute."

He tapped his fingers rhythmically against the dark wood of the desk before explaining the final, most intricate rule of his psychological puzzle.

"Fourth. The main thing we will use to judge this wager is a two-diary system. The exact moment you start to like a girl or think she is the one, you must write her name in a diary. You will record every single detail of your interactions:

 when you meet, why you like her, what specific qualities she has, and how she faces difficult situations. If you test her to find out how honest she is, you must write down exactly how she responds to you. I will personally read your diary on the very last day after winning your bet."

I stared at him, my mind completely short-circuiting. The room went completely silent as the complex layout of his rules echoed in my ears.

"The same applies to me," my father murmured smoothly, adjusting his expensive gold cuffs.

 "I never choose a girl blindly. I will also maintain a diary, writing exactly why I want a specific girl to be your future wife."

"After two years, we will compare both diaries. We will see which girl is truly more honest and capable of running this massive company. Only then will you have to marry her."

My mind went fully blank.

 I had initially thought a challenge meant something simple—a standard race against time. 

But this was an intricately woven psychological labyrinth designed by a genius.

"Dad," I stammered, my voice cracking under the sheer weight of the realization. 

"What if I lose the bet?"

A slow, terrifyingly calm smile spread across his face. It was the look of a grandmaster watching his opponent move their king into an inescapable checkmate.

"This is even simpler, my son. If you lose, you will marry the girl I arrange for you without uttering a single word."

"And if I don't like the girl you arrange?"

 I countered, my voice raw. 

"What should I do then? Just marry anyone?"

"No, that is even simpler, Sanjay," my dad answered, his voice dripping with absolute certainty. 

"This is even more simple, my son. You just hand over the company."

He stood up slowly, towering over the massive mahogany desk.

 His silhouette cut a powerful, intimidating figure against the dim lights of the study.

"Actually, during these two years, you can learn the business. If you win, you can do whatever you want. But if you lose, you have two options: option one, do the arranged marriage, or option two, give up on being a doctor forever."

At that exact second, my father's brilliant, terrifying business mind became blindingly clear to me. 

It was the ultimate trap, a masterpiece of corporate and psychological strategy.

My mind was completely blown. 

No matter what choices I made, no matter which path I tried to forge, my dad had already calculated a way to win. 

The steel jaws had been welded into place years ago.

If I win the bet, I will marry the girl I love.

 But because of his rules, she will be a brilliant woman with business knowledge, and my dad will train her to lead the empire.

 His heir problem is solved, Roy Enterprises is secure, and I get to stay a doctor.

If I lose the bet, I have to marry his arranged girl. She will already be a powerhouse capable of running the business. 

His heir problem is solved, the company is secure, but my dream job is gone forever, and I am trapped in a cold, loveless marriage.

And if I say no to that arranged marriage? My dream job as a doctor is still gone, because I have to hand over the company, leaving me with nothing but a hateful corporate title and a dream wife, while his company remains safe under the structure he designed.

Whatever I do, my dad wins. His problem is solved.

I looked at him, a cold shiver running down my spine as the full weight of his genius crashed over me. 

He had allowed me to follow my dream for seven years, letting me build a flawless public reputation and a sharp, disciplined intellect, only to use that exact maturity to pull me into this airtight wager.

"Okay, Dad," I whispered, the word tasting like ash in my dry throat, but my jaw locked with newfound determination.

 "I accept the challenge. Let us see who wins the match."

My dad simply nodded, his terrifyingly satisfied look returning to his face. 

"Your two years start tomorrow, Sanjay. Pack your things at the hospital. John will have your corporate orientation papers ready."

I turned around and walked out of the study, the heavy wooden doors clicking shut behind me for the final time.

 As I walked down the grand, echoing hallway of the estate, my mind was already racing ahead.

I had to get back to Grand Roy Hospital. I had to find Kalix but he was not there.

 I needed a psychology doctor to help me figure out how to navigate a map that my father had entirely rigged from the very beginning.

Because one thing was absolutely certain: Martin Roy never accepts a challenge unless he is one hundred percent sure he has already won. 

So this was my dad's real master plan?

But i have to win

"Dad i have few conditions "