Chapter 13

Yasmin Al-Farsi leaned against the doorframe of the dining hall, her eyes tracing Tariq's figure with a mixture of pity and sharp disdain. She waited until he was within earshot before blocking his path. "Don't get too comfortable in that chair tonight, Tariq," Yasmin said, her voice dropping to a frigid whisper. "Your time in this house is officially over. Khalid has proposed to my sister, and Grandfather is already making the arrangements. You're being forced out." Tariq didn't break his stride. He looked past her as if she were a minor inconvenience on the road. "Is that so?" "Don't act like you don't care," Yasmin snapped, stepping closer. "Khalid is a rising star at Mansour Corporation. He's everything you aren't. While you're out crashing scooters, he's securing our family's future. Layla deserves a man, not a burden." Tariq remained silent, his expression unreadable as he walked into the hall and took his seat at the far end of the long table, the traditional spot for the lowliest member of the household. At the head of the table, Kamal Al-Farsi straightened his posture. The patriarch of the Farsi family looked around at the gathered relatives, his eyes gleaming with a predatory hunger. He reached out and knocked his knuckles against the polished wood of the table, the sound echoing through the room and silencing the chatter. "Listen to me, all of you," Kamal announced, his voice thick with anticipation. "A massive opportunity has landed on our doorstep. Mansour Corporation has just announced an additional five billion dollars for investment. This is a tide that will lift every ship in this city, and I intend for the Al-Farsi name to be at the front of the line." The table remained quiet for a heartbeat before a ripple of murmurs broke out. "Five billion dollars?" Zayd Al-Farsi whispered, leaning back. "That's an astronomical sum. But Grandfather, let's be realistic. There are dozens of families in Al-Safwa with more leverage than us. Mansour Corporation is a titan. Why would they look at a family of our status when they have international conglomerates banging on their doors?" Rami Al-Farsi shook his head, his lip curling in a cynical sneer. "Zayd is right. We're small fish in that pond. They won't even give us a meeting, let alone a slice of that five billion. It's a pipe dream." Kamal's face darkened, his brow furrowing as he glared at his sons and grandsons. He slammed his palm against the table this time. "This is exactly why we haven't grown in a decade!" Kamal barked, his voice filled with displeasure. "You sit here and list reasons why we will fail before we've even tried. You lack initiative. You lack vision. Do you think wealth just falls into the laps of those who wait? We need a bridge to Mansour Corporation, and we need it now." Zayd cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably under his father's gaze. "It isn't about vision, Father. It's about access. We don't have a single person on the inside. How do you propose we secure an investment when we can't even get past their front desk?" Rami's eyes suddenly brightened. He straightened up, glancing toward Layla and then back to the patriarch. "Wait. We do have a bridge. Khalid Saab. He's not just any employee; he's a rising executive at Mansour Corporation. If he marries into the family—if he marries Layla—he won't just be an outsider. He'll be one of us. With his influence, securing a few hundred million for our projects would be a formality." The atmosphere in the room shifted instantly. The skepticism vanished, replaced by a calculating greed. Kamal turned his gaze toward Layla, his eyes hard and uncompromising. "Rami is right. The solution is standing right in front of us. Layla, you will marry Khalid. This is for the survival and the glory of the Al-Farsi family. It is an order." Layla's fork clattered against her plate. She froze, her face turning a ghostly shade of white. She looked at her grandfather, then at Tariq, who sat silently at the end of the table. "Grandfather... I'm already married. You're talking about forcing me into a divorce. I can't just—" "You can and you will," Lina Haddad interrupted, her voice sharp and persuasive. She leaned across the table toward her daughter. "Layla, don't be selfish. Think about what this means for your mother, for your sister, for everyone. You've spent years tied to this... this nobody. This is your chance to finally be with a man of status. Khalid can give you the world. Tariq can't even give you a car that doesn't need a charging cable." "It's the only way, Layla," another uncle chimed in. "Think of the five billion. Even a small piece of that changes everything for us. Do you really want to be the reason your family misses out on the greatest investment of the century?" "Besides," Rami added with a mocking grin toward Tariq. "Getting rid of the trash is just an added bonus. We've endured this embarrassment long enough." Layla opened her mouth to protest, but the words died in her throat. She looked at the faces around her—they weren't looking at her as a person, but as a bargaining chip. The pressure was a physical weight, pressing down on her shoulders. Lina stood up, a triumphant smile playing on her lips as she looked at Kamal. "Father, I knew this was the right path. In fact, I took the liberty of inviting Khalid here tonight. He's waiting outside. I told him we might have an announcement to make." Kamal's eyes widened, his anger vanishing as he let out a short, excited laugh. "He's here? Now? Lina, you've done well. Excellent work." He gestured toward the entrance of the hall, his hand trembling slightly with greed. "Bring him in! Bring Khalid to me at once!" Lina nodded and hurried toward the doors. The overhead chandeliers suddenly dimmed, the bright yellow light softening into a dramatic glow. The heavy oak doors swung open, and the sound of polished leather shoes echoed against the marble floor. Khalid Saab stepped into the hall. He was dressed in a bespoke charcoal-gray suit that screamed of corporate power, his hair perfectly styled. In his hands, he carried a velvet-lined gift box, his expression one of supreme confidence. He didn't look at Tariq; he didn't have to. He walked straight toward the head of the table, the savior of the Al-Farsi family arriving to claim his prize. ════════════════════════════════════════