Chapter 19

Khalid sprawled on the polished floor, his fingers clawing at the tiles as he struggled to push himself up. A thin trail of crimson leaked from the corner of his mouth, staining his expensive shirt. He glared up at Tariq, his eyes burning with a mixture of shock and sheer, unadulterated venom. "You're dead, Tariq," he wheezed, the words bubbling through the blood. "I'm going to ruin you. I'm going to strip everything you have until you're begging for scraps in the street. You think hitting me changes anything? You're a cockroach, and I'm going to crush you under my boot." Tariq didn't flinch. He didn't even look down at the man threatening him. Instead, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a backup phone, his movements deliberate and cold. He swiped across the screen and dialed a number that few people in the city possessed. "President? Is that you?" Omar's voice crackled through the speaker, instantly recognizable by its high-pitched, anxious enthusiasm. "I was just looking over the quarterly projections for the Al-Safwa region. Do you have instructions?" "Omar," Tariq said, his voice dropping into a deep, icy calm that made the air in the room feel several degrees colder. "There is an employee at Mansour Corporation. He's been using the company's name to manipulate people and facilitate his own personal interests. He's a parasite, and he's tarnished our reputation." "Understood, President," Omar replied, his tone shifting from eager to deadly serious. "Which department? What is the name? Give me the word and he's gone by the next minute." "Get rid of him," Tariq commanded, staring straight ahead as the Farsi family watched in stunned silence. "I want him removed from his position immediately. And don't just fire him. I want a full audit of every deal he's touched. If there's a single discrepancy, sue him for every penny. Take everything from him. Assets, bank accounts, properties—leave him with nothing but the clothes on his back." "President... may I ask what happened?" Omar's voice wavered with a hint of concern. "Did this person offend you directly? If so, a simple firing might be too light." "He thought he could use my company as a dowry for my wife," Tariq said, his eyes finally flickering down to Khalid. "Handle it now." "Consider it done," Omar said, the call disconnecting with a sharp click. Khalid let out a harsh, jagged laugh from the floor, clutching his ribs. He managed to prop himself up on one elbow, coughing as he spat more blood onto the rug. "Who was that? Another fake call? You're really committed to this act, aren't you, Tariq? You think a phone call to some 'Omar' makes you a king?" He gritted his teeth, his face twisting into a mask of pure arrogance. "You have no idea who you're dealing with. You're just a pathetic live-in son-in-law who got lucky with a punch. But the world doesn't run on punches. It runs on power and connections." Khalid leaned forward, his voice dropping to a hiss. "Do you know Yusuf Saleh? Does that name mean anything to your tiny, peasant brain? He's the most influential man in Al-Safwa. He's my brother-in-arms. One word from me, and Yusuf Saleh will have your legs broken before the sun goes down. He doesn't take kindly to people touching his associates." He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, a predatory grin forming despite his injuries. "I was going to just take Layla and let you rot. But now? Now I'm going to watch Yusuf Saleh tear your life apart piece by piece. You won't just be poor, Tariq. You'll be a cripple begging for mercy in the Al-Amir District." Khalid's hand went to his pocket, trembling as he reached for his own phone. He looked around the room at the Farsi family, seeking the validation of their fearful expressions. "Yusuf Saleh is coming. And when he gets here, God himself won't be able to save you from what's coming." ════════════════════════════════════════