Neha Patel swallowed hard, her professional smile trembling at the edges.
"You… you're buying a villa? Here? In Yamuna Riverside?"
She gestured toward the glossy brochure on the counter: Yamuna Riverside Phase III, Gurgaon's most exclusive gated enclave, where even the smallest plot started at 12 crore rupees.
Rajesh Kumar nodded as if she had just asked whether he wanted chai with sugar.
"Yes. Full payment. Today, if possible."
Priya, perched on his hip, tugged his collar. "Papa, will there be a swing in the garden?"
Rajesh Kumar kissed the tip of her nose. "There will be a swing, a tree-house, and a pond with lotus flowers just for you, beta."
Neha's ears rang. Full payment. Today.
She had sold exactly two apartments in the last six months; both on EMI, both to quarrelsome uncles who haggled over parking slots. Now a college classmate (the same boy who once pawned his phone to pay hostel mess fees) was about to drop twelve crore like loose change.
"Neha ji, are you all right?" Rajesh Kumar waved a hand in front of her face.
"Y-yes! Of course!" She snapped the brochure shut, nearly pinching her fingers. "Let me call the project head, Mr. Vikram Malhotra. He handles the premium inventory."
She pressed speed-dial.
"Sir, we have a walk-in for Yamuna Riverside. Full cash. Needs immediate possession."
A pause. Then a muffled squawk from the speaker that sounded suspiciously like Mr. Malhotra choking on his filter coffee.
Five minutes later, the glass doors burst open and Vikram Malhotra strode in, tie askew, sweating despite the air-conditioning.
"Mr. Kumar! Vikram Malhotra, VP Sales." He pumped Rajesh's hand so hard Priya giggled. "Plot 7A is the crown jewel, 1,200 square yards, direct Yamuna frontage, infinity pool, smart-home ready—"
Rajesh Kumar raised an eyebrow. "Is it the one with the old banyan at the northeast corner?"
Vikram faltered. "Er… yes. How did you—"
"I saw the drone footage online." A white lie; his divine sense had already swept every brick of the property at dawn. "We'll take it. What's the damage?"
"Fourteen crore, seventy-five lakh, plus registration," Vikram rattled off, eyes gleaming. "But for immediate transfer—"
"Done." Rajesh Kumar fished out his phone, opened the banking app, and flicked to the balance: ₹2,29,00,000.00.
He thumbed the transfer.
A soft chime.
Vikram's phone buzzed. His knees buckled.
"Funds received," the notification read.
Vikram stared at the screen, then at Rajesh, then at the screen again. "Sir… this is… unprecedented."
Neha's jaw hung open. The entire sales floor had gone graveyard quiet; even the coffee machine seemed to hold its breath.
Rajesh Kumar signed the e-documents with a flourish, then hoisted Priya higher. "Keys?"
Vikram fumbled a velvet pouch from his pocket. "Biometric fobs, physical keys, and the guard salute code is 1947. Welcome to Yamuna Riverside, Mr. Kumar."
Priya clapped. "Papa, are we going home now?"
"Almost, princess." Rajesh turned to Neha, whose eyes were glassy with shock. "Neha, your commission is safe. Thank you."
She managed a squeak. "Rajesh… how?"
He winked. "Long story. College reunion sometime?"
As the father-daughter duo stepped into the sunlight, Little Sheru trotting at their heels, Neha watched the Bentley that DLF kept for VIP clients glide up to the curb. The chauffeur opened the door with a bow.
The last thing she heard before the car purred away was Priya's delighted shriek:
"Papa, look, the puppy has his own seat-belt!"
Back in the showroom, Vikram Malhotra sank into a chair, fanning himself with the sale deed.
"Full cash. Same day. I need a raise. And a temple visit."
Neha stared at the empty doorway, brochure still clutched to her chest.
"Rajesh Kumar," she whispered, "what in the name of Lakshmi happened to you?"