Page 17 of Claimed By the Maharaja
“It is,” Pooja said. “And they specifically asked for someone discreet, talented, and not attached to any media house or publication. The project starts next week and will extend up to six months or more. And they are ready to send you the contract tomorrow to sign!”
Yamini continued to stare at the wall. The number ran through her mind again.
She could afford a better place. Rent a photography studio, buy equipment, and gain stability.
A future.
“What about the wedding events you recently got?” she asked.
“I’ll handle those with my usual team,” Pooja said immediately. “You are not missing this.”
Yamini exhaled slowly.
This wasn’t just a job. It was a chance.
“Alright,” she said. “I’ll take it.”
Pooja whooped. “I’ll confirm with them. Expect a call soon.”
The line disconnected.
The apartment fell quiet again.
The ache from her father’s words remained. But beneath it, something else began to take shape again. Hope.
She would take the project. She would rebuild.
This wasn’t just work. It was a way forward.
A fresh start.
CHAPTER 4
A week later, Yamini stood in front of the chief minister’s office building.
“Yamini Dhar,” she said.
A guard checked her appointment email against a printed list. Another checked her ID and equipment bag before letting her inside.
As soon as she reached the second checkpoint, a woman in a charcoal blazer approached her.
“Miss Dhar?” she asked, eyes sweeping over Yamini.
Yamini was once again dressed in a cotton kurta set and practical shoes. Her wavy hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail, her face bare except for a tinted lip balm. She wore minimal accessories with just a watch and earrings. The camera bag was slung over her shoulder.
“Yes, I’m Yamini Dhar.”
The woman looked relieved. “I’m Aditi from the PR team. I’m glad you are on time. Please follow me.”
Aditi led her down a wide corridor. Everything smelled faintly of polished wood and air conditioning. At the far end, six more security staff stood outside a set of glass doors.
Aditi turned. “Just a quick briefing before we go in.”
They stopped by a small seating area. Aditi opened a slim folder and spoke in a low, efficient voice. “This is a closed meeting. No press. No live updates. Official photos only. Our priority is to capture formal moments like handshakes, seated discussions, signing, and any announcements. You will stay to the right side of the room behind the marked line. No flash.”
Yamini nodded. “Understood.”
Aditi led her toward the glass doors.
