"Anaya: The Shadow of Silk & Fire"

The Cursed Heir

Ah, success. That magical word everyone worships. The thing people chase their whole lives as if it's some golden ticket to happiness. Money, power, fame—apparently, that’s all you need to be successful.

And guess what? I have all of it. Born into wealth, raised in luxury, surrounded by people who would sell their souls for a chance to sit at my family’s dining table. Sounds like a dream, right? Well, let me tell you something—success is nothing to me.

Because while the world sees gold, I see rust. While they admire the Singhania name, I know the truth. In this family, love is a myth, trust is a joke, and success? Just another cage made of diamonds.

When I was born, I had something that no ordinary baby had—consciousness. Even as a newborn, I could sense everything happening around me. Most infants don’t remember their birth, let alone understand the world at that moment, but I did. You might think I was special, a chosen one, blessed by the gods. But no, I wasn’t lucky. I was cursed.

Because I could sense everything, I could also see the truth—humanity’s real, dangerous nature. Their greed, their lies, their cruelty. And worst of all, I was born into a family where love did not exist.

I belong to the Singhania family, a wealthy and powerful dynasty that spans across India and London. My father is Indian, my mother is an English noblewoman. To the world, we are a perfect blend of cultures, a modern aristocratic family. But behind closed doors, we are nothing more than beasts in expensive suits. In the Singhania family, marriages are not for love—they are for business. Wealth is our god, and power is our only loyalty.

And in a family like this, there is only one rule—the throne has only one master.

The Singhania family has everything—wealth, power, a legacy spanning generations. They own people, they own cities, they own everything.

And yet, in a world where they have everything, even they are desperate for more.

"Push! Push!"

The voices surrounded me—urgent, frantic, filled with a tension that made the very air heavy.

I was suffocating. The pain in my body was unbearable, like I was being torn apart from the inside. Darkness wrapped around me like chains, tightening, dragging me down into nothingness. I felt trapped—caged within a world I didn’t understand.

For a moment, I thought I was dying.

Then, a voice.

Soft, desperate, yet filled with warmth.

"Come on, my baby… you must come out."

"I need you… your mother needs you… please, don’t let Mama wait."

I don’t know why, but when I heard those words—when I heard the word "Mama"— something shifted inside me. I felt a surge of power. A pull toward that voice. A reason to fight through the suffocating darkness.

Someone was waiting for me.

Someone needed me.

And then—agony.

A sharp, crushing pain took over, and suddenly, I was no longer trapped in darkness. I was in the world.

A sharp, blinding light hit my eyes. My tiny body felt cold, wet, exposed. A cry—a broken, weak sound—escaped my lips.

There were voices, hurried movements, gloved hands touching me. The bright white walls of the hospital were the first thing I saw—blurry, sterile, suffocating. Machines beeped in a constant rhythm, the room smelled of antiseptic and sweat.

And then, I saw her.

A woman—lying on the hospital bed, her body trembling from exhaustion. Her face was drenched in sweat, her golden hair clinging to her pale skin. Her eyes—swollen, bloodshot from crying—were locked onto me.

She looked... beautiful.

Not in the way the world defines beauty, but in a way only a child can see their mother. She looked like home.

I wanted to keep looking at her. To memorize every detail. But my body was weak. My eyes were closing.

Just before the darkness swallowed me again, I heard her scream.

"No!"

The word rang through the room like thunder.

I didn’t understand. No?

No for what? For me? Why?

Then—silence.

When I woke up again, everything was different.

The air in the room was thick—not with warmth, but with anger.

I heard shouting.

Turning my tiny head to the left, I saw her—my mother. She was no longer lying down. She was crying, begging, screaming.

And in front of her stood a man.

Tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in a crisp black suit. His jet-black hair was neatly combed, his sharp brown eyes were filled with something cold. Something cruel.

His voice was ice.🥶🥶🥶🥶🥶

"I don’t want her."😡😡

The words sliced through the air.

"She will be a burden." He spat the word like it was poison. "How can she be a girl?"

A girl?

Was he talking about me?

His furious gaze snapped to the doctor standing beside him—a man in a white coat, trembling like a leaf in a storm.

"You told us we were having a boy! A Singhania heir! How can she be a girl?!"

The doctor looked like he was about to collapse.

"I—I don’t know, sir… I checked the scans multiple times… We were sure—"

"Then how did this happen?!"

His voice was sharp, cutting, filled with disgust.