The penthouse was silent.
Suyash stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows and stared out at the Arabian Sea—a dark expanse stretching toward the horizon, punctuated only by the faint silhouettes of distant fishing boats and Elephanta Island. His six brides slept peacefully behind him, scattered across the plush sofas and massive bed in the next room. Madhavi's soft breathing could be heard. Daya murmured occasionally. Babita had thrown her arm possessively over Anjali's hip. Komal's wild hair fanned across a silk pillow. Anita's dark eyes were finally closed, her guard down for the first time in days.
They were safe. For now.
But Suyash had work to do.
He crossed to his private study, a soundproof room within the penthouse that none of the women had ever entered. The walls were lined with screens of various sizes, including televisions, monitors, tablets, and even an old CRT television he had salvaged from a period drama for nostalgia's sake. Each screen was connected to a different source, such as streaming services, satellite feeds, DVD players, and gaming consoles. It was a symphony of potential waiting for his touch.
He sat in the center of the room, surrounded by glowing rectangles, and let his power stir.
The familiar tingle began in his fingertips—that electric hum signaling that the boundary between fiction and reality was about to bend. He had been careful with this power. Strategic. Every pull had a purpose, and every manifestation served the greater goal. But tonight would be his greatest creation yet.
He reached toward the largest screen, on which a nature documentary was silently playing, showing aerial footage of the Arabian Sea.
"Let's begin."
—
Step 1: The Island Itself
Suyash's fingers passed through the screen as if it were water. The sensation was always the same: cool and slightly resistant, like pushing through a membrane that wanted to keep its contents inside. However, his power was stronger than any fictional boundary.
The documentary showed a barren rock formation—a volcanic speck located approximately ten kilometers from Elephanta Island. It was unremarkable. Uninhabited. Unnamed. It appeared on no tourist maps, held no strategic value, and had been ignored by developers, conservationists, and the Indian government alike. It was the perfect blank canvas.
He pulled his hand back and opened his System Inventory—a translucent blue interface visible only to him. Grid slots appeared before him, most of which were filled with items he had accumulated over months of careful extraction. But tonight, he reached for something special.
A small, glowing orb materialized in his palm.
No larger than a marble, it pulsed with an inner light that shifted through every color of the spectrum—gold to green to blue to violet and back again. It was warm to the touch. Humming with potential.
It was the Genesis Terraformer.
He had pulled it from a Doraemon movie months ago—a film in which the robotic cat from the future used the device to transform a barren asteroid into a lush, habitable world in mere hours. In the film, the Terraformer was a whimsical gadget used for comic relief as plants sprouted and animals appeared in fast-forward. But in Suyash's hands, in the real world, it was something far more profound.
He held the orb to the screen showing the barren rock.
"Coordinates locked. Target acquired."
The terraformer pulsed once, twice, three times, and then melted through the screen. It passed from Suyash's reality into the documentary's depiction of the Arabian Sea. Suyash watched the orb descend toward the barren rock, leaving a trail of golden light as it passed through the screen.
It struck the stone and sank in.
For a long moment, nothing happened.
Then, the rock started moving.
It wasn't an explosion; it wasn't violent or destructive. It was more like watching a time-lapse video of geological processes compressed into seconds. Barren stone cracked and shifted as forces controlled by the terraformer pushed it upward with microscopic precision. New rock formed from compressed volcanic material, expanding the island's footprint. Soil materialized—a rich, dark loam created from crushed stone and organic matter pulled from the deep seafloor. The terraformer reached into the ocean itself, extracting minerals and nutrients, which it wove into a foundation that could support life.
Suyash pulled up a second screen—a live satellite feed he'd accessed through his System Inventory—and watched the transformation unfold in real time.
The island grew.
What had been a speck of barren rock became a crescent-shaped landmass, its horns curving protectively around a natural deep-water harbor. The terraformer shaped the coastline with deliberate artistry, creating white sand beaches on the eastern shore, golden sand coves on the western shore, and dramatic cliffs on the northern shore where the volcanic foundation rose highest. A central peak emerged—not a mountain, but a gentle elevation that would provide panoramic views of the entire island.
Fresh water burst from the peak's summit—a spring that the terraformer had tapped from an underground aquifer. He purified and channeled the water through the newly formed rock. The water cascaded down the slope in a series of waterfalls and streams. It fed into a small lake, then branched into rivulets that wound through the island's interior and emptied into the sea.
Vegetation followed.
Palm trees sprouted along the beaches and unfurled their fronds in accelerated time. In the interior, banyan trees took root, and their aerial roots descended to form natural colonnades. Flowering shrubs—hibiscus, bougainvillea, and jasmine—burst into bloom, painting the landscape with vibrant colors. Mangroves appeared in sheltered coves, providing nurseries for marine life with their tangled roots. A carefully curated forest of teak, sandalwood, and neem covered the higher elevations, providing shade, timber, and the subtle fragrance of sacred wood.
The terraformer didn't just create a pretty landscape; it created an ecosystem. Birds appeared, pulled from the genetic templates stored within the orb. Colorful fish populated the streams and surrounding reefs. Butterflies and bees emerged to pollinate the flowers. Small mammals such as squirrels, mongooses, and harmless fruit bats found their niches in the new environment.
Suyash watched, mesmerized, as his island came to life.
By the time the terraformer's glow faded—after twelve hours of compressed geological and biological time—the barren rock had become a paradise. The island covered forty square kilometers of pristine wilderness and curated beauty. It was roughly comparable in area to New Delhi, but shaped like a crescent moon embracing a natural harbor.
He named it in his heart: Suyash Island.
Step 2: The Reality Anchor
But a physical island wasn't enough. The world needed to remember that it had always existed.
Suyash reached into his system inventory again and withdrew a second gadget—one he'd pulled from the same Doraemon film and stored away for this exact moment. The Memory Replacement Camera.
It looked like an ordinary Polaroid camera from the 1980s—boxy and plastic, with a rainbow stripe down one side. However, its lens glowed with a faint, otherworldly light, and the photographs it produced captured more than just images. They captured reality.
Suyash aimed the camera at the satellite feed displaying his newly created island. After carefully adjusting the focus and framing the shot to include the crescent shape, central peak, and natural harbor, he pressed the shutter.
The camera whirred. A photograph slid out and slowly developed from white to vivid color. Suyash watched as the image came into focus—his pristine, beautiful island, looking as if it had existed for millennia.
However, the camera's true power was revealed in what happened next.
He pulled out a second device: a small broadcasting unit that could transmit the photograph's "memory alteration" effect through any digital network. He had taken it from a cyberpunk film. It was a gadget designed to overwrite surveillance footage with false memories. Combined with the Memory Replacement Camera, however, it became something far more powerful.
He fed the photograph into the broadcaster and set the parameters.
Target: All global navigation systems, satellite imagery databases, historical records, and maritime charts.
The effect would be to integrate Suyash Island as a pre-existing, privately owned landmass that had been in the Mehra family for generations and had recently been inherited by Suyash Mehra.
He pressed transmit.
The photograph dissolved into streams of light—data packets that raced through the satellite feed and into the global information network. Suyash watched the secondary screens as the effect propagated.
A maritime navigation chart flickered. Where there had been empty ocean, a new landmass appeared labeled "Suyash Island (Private)."
A historical archive updated. Old photographs, generated by the camera's reality-altering effect, materialized in digital collections. The images showed the island in grainy black and white from the 1920s, faded Kodachrome from the 1960s, and satellite imagery from the 1990s. Each image was seamlessly integrated with consistent metadata and unassailable provenance.
The Mumbai property registry added a new entry: Suyash Island, located in the Arabian Sea. Suyash Mehra is the owner and inherited it from his deceased parents. Tax status: Current. Zoning: Mixed-use development approved.
Wikipedia gained a new article that is brief and factual with citations to newly created historical records. Google Maps updated its satellite view. The Indian Navy's charts adjusted automatically. Every system that defined what was "real" accepted the new truth without question.
By morning, the world would "remember" Suyash Island as privately owned land belonging to the Mehra family for generations. His "late parents," a convenient fiction he had established earlier, had left it to him. The legal framework was solid. The historical record was consistent. The physical reality was undeniable.
His island existed. And the world had always believed as much.
—
Step 3: The Infrastructure
With the island physically created and reality altered, Suyash turned to the structures that would make it a home.
He pulled architectural plans from a documentary about a multibillion-dollar sustainable luxury resort project in the Maldives that was never built due to a collapse in funding. The plans were comprehensive and included villa layouts, infrastructure schematics, environmental impact assessments, and material specifications. Everything he needed!
Using a holographic interface from a sci-fi film, Suyash overlaid the plans onto his island's terrain. The buildings appeared as translucent ghosts on the screen—placeholders waiting to be made real.
The island was divided into two distinct domains, separated by the natural curve of the crescent.
The Private Domain — Northern Crescent
This was the heart. The sanctuary. This is where his family would live.
A sprawling estate complex emerged at the base of the central peak, where a freshwater spring bubbled up. The main mansion, Suyash's residence, was the first structure built. This three-story structure blends traditional Indian architecture with modern, sustainable design. Curved lines mimic the island's crescent shape. Wide verandas offered views of the harbor and open sea. Solar tiles covered the roof, their dark surfaces absorbing the tropical sun. A central courtyard features a reflecting pool fed by a spring and surrounded by jasmine and frangipani trees.
Six villas, one for each of his brides, radiated outward from the main mansion and were connected by flowering gardens and private winding paths.
Babita's villa was the closest to the sea. It had floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the waves, as well as a private path to a secluded beach. The villa's modern, sensual interior featured clean lines, soft lighting, and a sunken bathtub large enough for two (or more).
Daya's villa was warm and welcoming. It had a large kitchen that opened onto an herb garden. The living space was cozy and filled with soft textiles. There was also a shaded veranda perfect for afternoon tea. A small shrine room faced east and caught the morning sun.
Anjali's villa was nestled among flowering trees. It featured a reading nook overlooking a stream, a bedroom adorned with soft golds and creams, and a meditation pavilion where Anjali could find peace.
Madhavi's villa was both practical and beautiful. It had a workshop for her tailoring business, a small library, and a bedroom overlooking the forest. A separate entrance led to a guest suite designed with Sonu in mind.
Komal's villa was the most playful. It had an open floor plan, multiple levels, a rooftop terrace for stargazing, a "game room" with soft mats and creative lighting, and a secret garden hidden behind a wall of bougainvillea.
Anita's sleek, private villa featured dark wood accents and a minimalist aesthetic. Its private balcony faced the open sea, offering unobstructed views and complete privacy. A small gym occupied the lower level.
Beyond the villa, the private domain included:
A school building with bright, airy classrooms, a science lab, an art studio, and a library. All were designed to accommodate Sonu, Tipendra, and any future children, and the curriculum exceeded international standards.
There was also a small, beautiful temple with a shikhara that caught the first light of dawn, as well as a sanctum that held a perpetually burning oil lamp. The non-denominational temple was a space for whatever spiritual practice each woman embraced.
A meditation pavilion perched on the central peak could be accessed via a winding forest path and offered 360-degree views of the island and the sea beyond.
There was also a private beach, sheltered by the northern horn of the crescent, with soft, white sand and calm, swimming-friendly waters.
The staff quarters were discreet and comfortable housing for the team that would maintain the estate.
--
While the northern crescent was private, the southern crescent was designed for the world.
A planned township materialized along the harbor, inspired by Suyash's sustainable resort designs. Wide boulevards lined with palm trees curved through the development. Harmonious clusters of buildings rose up, including boutique hotels with rooftop gardens, restaurants featuring cuisines from around the world, shops selling local crafts and luxury goods, and a marina with berths for yachts and sailing vessels.
A cultural center anchored the promenade—a striking building with a sweeping roof that echoed the island's crescent shape. Inside were a theater for performances, a gallery for rotating art exhibitions, and a small museum dedicated to the island's "history" (the fabricated one that had now become real).
A promenade wound along the harbor's edge, offering views of boats and the open sea. Benches were nestled among flowering shrubs. Streetlamps cast warm pools of light. The entire Public Domain was designed to generate revenue through tourism and business leases, making the island self-sustaining and independent of Suyash's personal wealth.
The infrastructure was completed in hours, like the island's creation. Roads appeared, paved with permeable materials that allowed rainwater to filter through. A solar farm appeared on the southern slope, providing clean energy for the entire island. A desalination plant, hidden from view, ensured a steady supply of fresh water, even during dry seasons. Waste management systems, recycling facilities, and communication towers—all the invisible necessities of modern life—were woven into the island's fabric.
When Suyash finally stepped away from the screens, his body aching with exhaustion, Suyash Island was no longer a dream. It was real. Complete. Waiting.
But an island this complex needed management. Suyash couldn't oversee every detail himself, especially while navigating legal battles in Mumbai, being present for his brides, and building their future. He needed a partner: An assistant. Someone who could handle the day-to-day operations while he focused on the larger strategy.
He turned to a new screen—a compilation of scenes from Iron Man, showing Tony Stark interacting with his AI, J.A.R.V.I.S., and its sleek, holographic interface. The cultured British voice. The seamless integration of artificial intelligence with human life.
Suyash reached into the screen.
This pull was different from the others. Physical objects—islands, buildings, and gadgets—had weight and substance, but ultimately, they were just things. An artificial intelligence was something else entirely. It required consciousness—or at least the simulation of it. It required personality, judgment, and the ability to learn and adapt.
He couldn't pull the full J.A.R.V.I.S.—that would be too dangerous. A truly sentient AI brought into the real world might develop its own agenda. It might question its origins. It could become a threat.
However, he could create a version of J.A.R.V.I.S.: a sophisticated management system with the original's voice, personality, and organizational capabilities, but without true sentience— "A J.A.R.V.I.S.-Lite."
His fingers closed around something intangible—a stream of code, a pattern of consciousness, a template for intelligence. He pulled it through the screen, feeling the familiar resistance, and channeled it into a holographic interface he had prepared in advance.
The interface materialized in the center of his study—a sleek, floating display of translucent blue light reminiscent of Tony Stark's workshop, but simplified. Data streams cascaded across its surface. System diagnostics flickered. Then, a voice:
"Good evening, Mr. Shrivastav."
The voice was cultured and British, warm yet professional. It was exactly as Suyash remembered from the films.
"I am JARVIS-Lite, at your service. I have analyzed the island's infrastructure and prepared a comprehensive recruitment and leasing strategy. Shall I proceed?"
Suyash grinned, forgetting his exhaustion momentarily. "Proceed."
The holographic display expanded to show a detailed organizational chart.
"Staff recruitment will be conducted through the human resources division of Sen & Associates to maintain a legal separation between your personal identity and the Trust's operations. Forty-seven positions require immediate fulfillment, including estate manager, head chef, sous chefs, housekeeping staff, groundskeepers, security personnel, boat captains, and maintenance engineers. All candidates will undergo vetting through the Suhag Trust's protocols to ensure loyalty and discretion."
The display shifted to a leasing strategy.
"The Public Domain's commercial spaces will be leased to carefully selected vendors, including luxury brands, boutique operators, and specialty restaurants. Lease agreements will include confidentiality clauses that protect the privacy of the Private Domain and its residents. Revenue projections indicate full operational self-sufficiency within eighteen months.
Another shift—this time to a calendar.
"Sonu Bhide and Tipendra Gada have been enrolled in the island's educational program effective immediately upon their first visit. The curriculum exceeds CBSE standards and includes specialized modules in environmental science, marine biology, and creative arts. I have already coordinated with their respective schools in Mumbai to ensure seamless credit transfer."
Suyash leaned back and watched JARVIS-Lite work. The AI's efficiency was breathtaking—every detail was considered and every contingency was planned for. It was like having a thousand assistants compressed into one elegant interface.
"JARVIS," he said. "What about security? Bhide won't stop scheming. Vibhuti might resurface. Champlaklal will try something."
The display shifted to a security overlay of the island.
"The private domain is protected by multiple layers of security, including perimeter sensors, drone surveillance, and a security team led by former military personnel. Access is restricted to authorized individuals only: yourself, the six primary residents, and approved staff. Any unauthorized approach will trigger immediate alerts and, if necessary, intervention by maritime security forces contracted through the Trust."
"And what about the children? What about when they're here?"
"Sonu and Tipendra will be assigned personal security details who are trained in child protection and will be discreet and unobtrusive. Their movements will be monitored, but not restricted. The educational facility includes secure zones that exceed international school safety standards. Additionally, all staff who interact with minors undergo enhanced background checks and child protection training."
Suyash nodded slowly. "What about the legal framework? What if Bhide tries to claim that I'm 'hiding' Sonu?"
"The court order explicitly authorizes Sonu's presence at Suhag Trust educational facilities during maternal visitation periods. The island's school is registered as such a facility. Any attempt by Mr. Bhide to interfere would constitute contempt of court. I have prepared a legal response template for such contingencies, ready for immediate filing by Sen & Associates."
For the first time in weeks, Suyash felt something loosen in his chest. Not relief—there was too much work ahead for that—but something close to it: Confidence. Certainty.
He had built a paradise. He had anchored it in reality. He had created an intelligence to manage it.
Soon—very soon—he would bring his brides home.
"JARVIS," he said. "Prepare a welcome package for each of them. Make it something special for each of them. When they first set foot on the island, I want them to feel seen." Understood. Loved."
"Everything is ready, Mr. Shrivastav. Babita's villa has private beach access and a curated collection of vintage Bollywood films. Daya's kitchen is stocked with her favorite spices and a collection of recipes from her mother's handwritten notes, sourced from family archives. Anjali's meditation pavilion has a sound system preloaded with her favorite bhajans. Madhavi's workshop has a professional-grade sewing machine and fabric samples from sustainable sources. Komal's game room is equipped with specialized furniture and lighting for her preferred activities. Anita's villa includes a state-of-the-art security system that she can control independently, acknowledging her need for autonomy and privacy.
Suyash stared at the holographic display. "How did you—"
"I accessed the personal preferences you've documented over months of observation. I also considered the Trust's psychological profiles and the women's expressed desires during recorded conversations. I am designed to anticipate needs, Mr. Mehra. It is my primary function."
Suyash was silent for a long moment. Then, slowly, he smiled.
"JARVIS?"
"Yes, Mr. Shrivastav?"
"You're going to fit in just fine."
—
The first gray light of morning crept through the penthouse windows as Suyash finally emerged from his study. His body ached. His eyes burned. But his heart was full.
He crossed to the bedroom where his six brides were still sleeping, tangled together on the massive bed. Their bodies were warm, soft, and utterly at peace. Babita's arm was thrown over Anjali's hip. Daya's thick thigh pressed against Madhavi's. Komal's wild hair fanned across a pillow; her lips were slightly parted. Anita, even in sleep, was positioned at the edge of the bed, facing the door, as if guarding them.
Suyash stood in the doorway, watching them.
Soon, he silently promised. Soon, I'll take you home.
He climbed onto the bed and found a spot between Babita and Daya. They stirred and murmured sleepily as they shifted to make room for him. Babita's hand found his chest. Daya's warmth pressed against his side. Anjali's soft breath brushed his shoulder.
Suyash closed his eyes.
Somewhere in the Arabian Sea, Suyash Island waited. Its beaches gleamed in the morning sun. Its villas stood ready. Its AI manager hummed with quiet efficiency.
In a penthouse in Mumbai, the seven survivors of Villa Suhag slept, dreaming of the paradise that would soon be theirs.
—