Chapter 10

The morning sun glared off the glass skyscrapers of Al-Safwa's business district, reflecting a harsh, clinical light onto the pavement. Tariq Mansour pedaled his electric bike through the heavy traffic, his hair still messy from a restless night and his eyes bleary. He had a few stray threads on his shirt, and his posture was relaxed, perhaps too relaxed for a man heading toward the headquarters of Mansour Corporation to finalize a takeover. He slowed as he approached the grand entrance of the corporate plaza. Just as he steered toward a designated curb, a roar of an engine cut through the ambient city noise. A sleek, silver Al-Buraq swung wide into the turn, its tires screeching against the asphalt. Tariq squeezed his brakes, but it was too late. The luxury car's front fender clipped the front wheel of the electric bike with a sickening crunch of plastic and metal. Tariq was thrown off balance, his feet hitting the ground hard as he watched his bike tumble. The frame twisted, and the new battery casing he had recently installed cracked open, spilling wires. The bike was scrapped, a heap of useless junk at the feet of the towering corporate monolith. The door of the Al-Buraq swung open. Sana Khoury stepped out, her heels clicking sharply on the road. She looked at the scratches on her seven-hundred-thousand-dollar vehicle and then turned her gaze toward Tariq. Her expression shifted from shock to a cold, burning aggression. "Are you blind?" Sana shouted, her voice drawing the attention of the morning commuters. "Look at what you've done to my car! Do you have any idea how much an Al-Buraq costs? You were driving like a maniac, weaving through traffic just to try and catch a glimpse of a luxury vehicle, weren't you?" Tariq stood up, brushing dust off his trousers. He looked at the scrapped remains of his bike and then at the minor scuff on her bumper. "I was already stopped, Sana. You took the turn too tight. You hit me." "Don't you dare try to flip this on me!" Sana's eyes flashed with hatred. "You're one of those people, aren't you? A professional scammer. You see a nice car and you throw your piece of junk under the wheels so you can extort a settlement. I know your type. You're pathetic." A small crowd began to gather, whispering as they eyed the contrast between the disheveled man on the broken bike and the beautiful, immaculately dressed woman. "I'm not scamming anyone," Tariq said, his voice flat and direct. "I was parked. You crashed into me. That's the reality of it." "Reality?" Sana laughed, a sharp, mocking sound. "The reality is that your entire life isn't worth the paint job on this fender. You've ruined my morning and damaged company property—this car is registered to the corporation!" Before Tariq could respond, a middle-aged, barrel-chested man in a crisp uniform burst through the revolving doors of the main building. It was the security chief, followed by a group of gruesome-looking guards who moved with practiced, intimidating precision. The security chief hurried toward Sana, his face instantly softening into a mask of subservience. "Miss Khoury! I saw the commotion from the monitors. Are you alright? Did this man assault you?" Sana gestured toward Tariq with a flick of her wrist, her tone dismissive and freezing. "He threw his bike under my car. He's trying to stage an accident for money. Deal with him." The security chief turned toward Tariq, his respectful demeanor vanishing instantly. He flashed a confident, sycophantic smile back at Sana. "Don't you worry for a second, Miss Khoury. I'll handle this trash. He won't be bothering you or the Mansour Corporation ever again." The chief stepped forward and delivered a heavy kick to the scrapped electric bike, sending it skidding further across the pavement. The metal groaned as it hit a concrete planter. "You!" the chief shouted, pointing a thick finger at Tariq's chest. "You're going to pay for every cent of the repairs on that Al-Buraq. And then, you're going to get on your knees and apologize to Miss Khoury for the distress you've caused. If you don't, I'm calling the police, and I'll make sure you're charged with attempted fraud and reckless endangerment." Tariq didn't flinch. He looked at the chief, then back at Sana. "The police? That sounds like a good idea. We can pull the CCTV footage from the entrance. It'll show exactly who hit whom." Sana frowned, her gaze flickering toward the security cameras. A hint of hesitation touched her face, or perhaps it was a shred of misplaced kindness. She didn't want the paperwork of a police report cluttering her promotion day. "Chief, forget the police," Sana said, her voice tight. "I don't have time for the bureaucracy. Just make sure he pays for the damages. I want him to feel the weight of his own stupidity, not sit in a cell on the taxpayer's dime." "As you wish, Miss Khoury," the chief said, though he didn't stop looming over Tariq. Tariq pointed toward the spot where he had been standing when the impact occurred. "I was within the white lines. I was parked first. Your manager here was speeding into the lot. Under company parking rules—and traffic law—she is entirely at fault." The security chief let out a bark of laughter, stepping closer until he was inches from Tariq's face. "Company rules? You're talking to me about company rules? I am the rules in this lot. You're a nobody on a toy bike. Miss Khoury is the Administrative Manager and the future General Manager of this entire firm. Her word is the law here." Tariq shrugged, his expression remaining unnervingly calm. "That's interesting. Because I actually work for this company. Or I'm supposed to start today." The chief paused, then looked Tariq up and down—the messy hair, the cheap shoes, the lack of a badge. He looked at the guards behind him, and they all erupted into mocking laughter. "You work here?" the chief said, his voice dripping with pity. "What, as a floor-scrubber? We didn't hire any new janitors today. You're a liar as well as a scammer. Look at you. You don't belong in this district, let alone this building." Sana stepped forward, her patience finally snapping. She looked at Tariq with a mixture of disgust and disappointment, as if he were a stain she couldn't quite rub off. "Enough of this," Sana said. Her voice was cold, final. "Tariq, I don't know what kind of delusion you're suffering from, but you don't work for Mansour Corporation. And you never will. As of this moment, you are fired—not that you were ever hired. Get your garbage off our property and never show your face here again. If I see you within a block of this building, I'll have the guards throw you into the street personally." The security chief grinned, signaling his guards to surround Tariq. "You heard the lady. Pick up your scrap metal and vanish before we help you move." Tariq looked at the front doors of the Mansour Corporation, then back at Sana, who was already turning to walk away toward the lobby. A few employees who had stopped to watch the scene began to snicker, whispering about the "scammer" who thought he could claim a job at the most prestigious firm in Al-Safwa. Tariq reached into his pocket, his fingers brushing against the documents he had brought to finalize the handover. He looked at the security chief's hand, which was currently resting on the holster of his baton. "You're sure about that?" Tariq asked quietly. Sana didn't even look back as she reached the glass doors. "Get him out of my sight." ════════════════════════════════════════