Chapter 11

Yasmin stomped her foot, her face contorting with a mix of impatience and sadistic glee. She pointed a manicured finger at Tariq Al-Khoury, her voice shrill as it echoed through the luxurious confines of Room 888. "Wael, I'm done looking at his pathetic face. Make him crawl over here and call me ‘mommy' until he loses his voice, then throw him out into the street like the trash he is!" Wael Khalil stepped forward, his massive frame casting a shadow over Tariq. He cracked his knuckles, a predatory smirk stretching across his rugged features. Behind him, twenty burly men in black suits shifted in unison, their presence turning the room into a suffocating cage. "You heard the lady, kid," Wael roared, his voice thick with a threatening rumble. "You've got two choices. You can kneel right now, call Yasmin ‘mommy,' and admit you're a piece of garbage for even breathing the same air as her. If you do that, maybe I'll let you walk out of the Desert Oasis Lounge on your own two feet." Wael leaned down, his face inches from Tariq's, his breath smelling of expensive cigars and cheap aggression. "Otherwise, you're leaving on a stretcher. And I'll make sure every bone in your legs is snapped so you have to crawl home to Layla. Which is it?" Tariq didn't flinch. He looked up at the towering man, a flicker of genuine amusement dancing in his eyes. He leaned back into the plush sofa, crossing one leg over the other with a calm that seemed to grate on the nerves of everyone in the room. "And what if I don't comply? What if I find your little roleplay request… distasteful?" Yasmin's brow furrowed into a deep, ugly scowl. "You still think you're in a position to negotiate? Wael! Hit him! Break that smug look off his face and force him onto his knees!" "With pleasure," Wael said, his eyes lighting up with eager violence. He drew back a massive fist, the muscles in his arm bulging as he prepared to strike. The heavy double doors of the VIP suite didn't just open; they were kicked off their hinges. Four or five men burst into the room with the force of a storm. "Stop right there!" a voice roared, vibrating with pure, unadulterated fury. Wael froze, his fist inches from Tariq's temple. He turned his head, his irritation ready to boil over onto the intruders, but the color drained from his face the moment he saw who was leading the pack. Fadi Nasser, the boss of the Desert Oasis Lounge, charged across the room. Before Wael could utter a single word of greeting, Fadi's hand whipped through the air. The crack of the slap was like a gunshot. Wael's head snapped to the side, his massive body stumbling back into the coffee table. Behind Fadi stood a line of figures that made Yasmin's heart stop. Adnan Bakri, the owner of the Al-Hilal Hotel; Zayd Al-Mansoori of Al-Buraq Properties; Maya Al-Hale, the head of Layali Fashions; and Jad Saleh, the General Manager of Al-Nujoom Petroleum. These were the titans of Al-Fajr City, men and women whose collective net worth reached into the billions. "Godfather?" Wael gasped, clutching his reddening cheek. He looked at Fadi with tearful, confused eyes. "Why did you hit me? This loser Tariq Al-Khoury was causing trouble! He snuck into Room 888, he's been insulting Yasmin, he's just a—" "Shut your mouth!" Fadi bellowed, his chest heaving. He stepped forward and delivered a second slap, even harder than the first, sending Wael spiraling to the floor. "You blind, arrogant fool! Is this how I taught you to conduct business? Is this how you treat a guest in my establishment?" Wael looked up from the carpet, his eyes red and brimming with resentment. "But he's an outsider, Godfather! He's just a live-in son-in-law! Why are you hitting me for a nobody like him?" Fadi's hands were trembling with a rage so intense he looked like he might have a stroke. He pointed a shaking finger toward Tariq, who remained seated and silent. "A nobody?" Fadi's voice dropped to a low, terrifying hiss. "You think you're standing in front of a nobody? This is the Second Young Master of the Khoury family! Everything I have—this lounge, my reputation, my life—I owe to him! Without his backing, I would still be begging for scraps in the gutter! And you… you dared to threaten him?" The silence that followed was absolute. Yasmin felt the world tilt. Her legs went limp, and she had to grab the back of a chair to keep from collapsing. The "useless" husband of Layla Mansour, the man she had mocked for years, the man she just tried to force into a humiliating performance, was the Second Young Master? The revelation hit her like a physical blow, knocking the breath from her lungs. Wael's eyes went wide. The realization of what he had almost done—who he had almost struck—turned his blood to ice. He scrambled off the floor, not to fight, but to throw himself at Tariq's feet. "Young Master! Please! I didn't know!" Wael wailed, his voice breaking into a sob as he bowed his head until it hit the floor. "I was blind! I was stupid! Please, have mercy on me!" He turned his head sharply toward Yasmin, his fear turning into a desperate need for a scapegoat. "It was her! It was all Yasmin's fault! She's the one who told me to humiliate you! She's the one who's been manipulating the renovation contracts!" Wael pointed a finger at the trembling woman. "She's been taking private commissions behind her company's back! She was going to take a one-million-dollar cut from this lounge's project, and she's got another two-million-dollar deal lined up elsewhere! She's a thief and a liar, Young Master! I only did what she asked because I thought she was a legitimate partner!" Yasmin's face went from pale to ghostly white. "Wael, what are you saying? We haven't even signed the contract yet! You can't—" "Get out!" Wael screamed at her, his eyes bloodshot. "If you don't leave right now, I'll call your company myself and hand over every recording and bank statement of your private solicitations! You've offended the Second Young Master! You're lucky if you only end up in prison!" Yasmin looked at the cold, hard faces of the business moguls surrounding her. Fadi Nasser looked like he wanted to strangle her. Maya Al-Hale looked at her with pure disgust. Seeing no other way out, Yasmin turned to Tariq, her posture shifting from arrogant to desperate and coy. "Tariq… I mean, Young Master," she stammered, her voice softening into a practiced, pleading tone. "We've known each other for a long time. For Layla's sake, surely you can overlook a little misunderstanding? I was just joking earlier. You know how I am..." Tariq tilted his head, a small, cold smile playing on his lips. "A misunderstanding? I remember it quite clearly. You wanted me to kneel and call you something, didn't you? What was the word?" The room went still. Yasmin's throat felt like it was filled with sand. She looked at the floor, then at Tariq's polished shoes. She knew the power he held now; one word from him and her career, her reputation, and her freedom were gone. Slowly, her knees hit the carpet. "I was wrong," she whispered, her voice thick with humiliation. "I'm so sorry. For Layla's sake, please forgive me." Tariq leaned forward, gazing down at her. "I didn't hear you. What am I supposed to address you as? And more importantly, what are you supposed to address me as?" Yasmin's face turned a deep, burning red. Her lips trembled as she forced the word out. "...Daddy." Tariq took a deep inhale and let out a short, sharp laugh. He stood up, looking over the broken woman. "I want you to listen very carefully, Yasmin. My identity stays in this room. If a single word about being the Second Young Master reaches Layla's ears, Wael's threats about your legal troubles will be the least of your worries. Do you understand?" Yasmin nodded repeatedly, her hair falling over her face. "I understand! I won't say a word! I'll tell her nothing happened today! I promise!" "Good. Get out." Yasmin scrambled to her feet and fled the room without looking back. Fadi Nasser stepped toward Tariq, bowing low. "Young Master, I am profoundly sorry. I have failed to discipline my godchild. If you wish for Wael to be removed permanently, just say the word." Wael let out a fresh whimper from the floor, but Tariq waved a hand dismissively. "Let it go, Fadi. Just ensure he learns his place." Maya Al-Hale stepped forward then, her expression one of deep respect. She held a small, exquisitely crafted wooden box. "Young Master, it has been years since you gave me those 300,000 bucks to start Layali Fashions. I have never forgotten your kindness. We all haven't." Zayd Al-Mansoori stepped up beside her, chuckling softly. "We heard your birthday is approaching. We went through a lot of trouble to find something worthy." He opened the box, revealing a delicate, ancient piece of calligraphy. "This is Wang Xizhi's Al-Aman Charm. A true masterpiece. We bought it as a gift for your birthday in three days." Tariq stared at the charm. For a moment, he was silent. "My birthday?" He had completely forgotten. The last few years had been a blur of insults and chores in the Mansour household. He realized then that his birthday coincided exactly with Grandma Hana Al-Mansour's birthday celebration. "Thank you," Tariq said, taking the box. "It's… more than I expected." *** Across the city, in a quiet, high-end café, Karim Al-Farsi sat across from Layla Al-Mansour. He reached across the table, his hand hovering near hers, his eyes filled with a calculated affection. "Layla, I've been thinking about the future," Karim said, his voice brimming with confidence. "Grandma Hana's birthday is in three days. It's the perfect occasion. I plan to officially propose marriage to you in front of the entire family." Layla's brow furrowed, and she pulled her hand back slightly. "Karim, we've talked about this. I'm not even divorced yet. Tariq and I… it's complicated. I can't just agree to a proposal while I'm still married." Karim laughed, a condescending sound that dismissed Tariq entirely. "Tariq? That loser is a weight around your neck, Layla. He offers you nothing. I, on the other hand, can give you the world. I've already secured a grand gift for Grandma's birthday—something that will make the entire Mansour family realize I'm the only choice for you. Once they see what I bring to the table, the divorce will be settled in an afternoon." He leaned in closer, his eyes determined. "Trust me. By the end of that party, everyone will know who the real Master is in Al-Fajr City." ════════════════════════════════════════