A massive, magnificent palace—constructed entirely of white marble and glass—exuded a truly regal aura. It boasted a sprawling two-kilometer garden, a lovely fountain, and a security detail of over a hundred guards. On the topmost floor—the fifth—resided the palace's only princess, or rather, its spoiled princess. Even at noon, she was fast asleep in her room. Sunlight filtered through plush, white Kashmiri velvet curtains onto her large queen-sized bed, yet she showed absolutely no inclination to wake up; she would simply toss and turn, drifting back to sleep.

Occasionally, she would shout, "Meena, you idiot! Fix the curtains properly—can't you see they're disturbing my beauty sleep?" Hearing this, a woman of about twenty-seven or twenty-eight—dressed in the uniform of the Ahuja Mansion staff—would nervously rush into the room and draw the curtains tight, shutting out the sunlight that had been streaming in. Meena was terrified; she didn't even dare to make a sound as she moved about like a silent shadow. Everyone at Ahuja Mansion knew just how volatile the princess's temper was; she wouldn't hesitate for a moment to fire anyone.