Page 30 of Claimed By the Maharaja
“Of course, Your Highness,” the man replied. “This is just a reminder, given the timeline.”
Three years.
It sounded longer than it felt.
“If you have any questions, please reach out.”
“I won’t,” Yamini said, before she could stop herself.
A small pause followed.
“Very well. Thank you for your time, Your Highness.”
The call ended.
For a second, Yamini didn’t move.
Pooja slowly lowered her fork. “Okay… who was that?”
Yamini let out a breath and leaned back in her chair. “My grandmother’s trust,” she said. “I have three years left.”
“For what?”
“To get married to a royal and have a child before thirty-one,” Yamini muttered.
Pooja’s eyes widened. “What?”
Yamini gave a short laugh. “Yeah. Those are the conditions. In royal families, love is optional, but bloodline and timing are not.”
Pooja leaned forward, suddenly fully invested. “That’s insane.”
Yamini shrugged. “They’re just controlling tactics dressed up as tradition. I didn’t even think about that inheritance after I left. I chose Rahul. I chose my stupid fairytale.”
Pooja’s face softened. “You chose what you thought was love.”
Yamini scoffed. “I chose a charming liar who cheated on me and then emptied my savings account.”
Pooja’s expression turned sharp with anger. “I still want to punch that asshole.”
“Get in line,” Yamini muttered.
Silence settled for a moment, heavier this time.
Then Pooja frowned. “You know I’ve heard rumors of similar conditions set by Rani Suchitra on her sons. Something about having heirs by the time they turn thirty-five. There was even some sort of selection event hosted last year by Rani Suchitra, where most of the royalty apparently attended.”
Yamini wasn’t surprised. Such conditions existed in most of the royal trusts. But she didn’t think Rani Suchitra would place such conditions on her sons. She hadn’t heard such a thing five years ago.
“Must be rumors,” Yamini muttered, taking a bite of her noodles.
Pooja tilted her head slightly. “Or maybe it’s true. Then you could just ask Bharat Jogra to marry you.”
Yamini nearly choked on her noodles.
She coughed, grabbing the cola while Pooja pushed the glass toward her, half-helpful and half-amused.
“Sorry,” Pooja said, though she was clearly not sorry. “I was joking.”
Yamini took a long sip, then glared at her. “You nearly killed me with that stupid joke.”
