Chapter 20

The mention of Yusuf Saleh hung in the air, thick and suffocating. Kamal Al-Farsi's grip on his chair tightened, his knuckles turning white. To the Farsi family, Yusuf Saleh was not just a name; he was a shadow that loomed over the business dealings of Al-Safwa, a man whose influence could bridge the gap between legitimate commerce and the dark undercurrents of the city. Khalid's connection to such a figure made the air in the room feel heavy with a new, dangerous weight. Tariq remained standing, his posture relaxed despite the tension vibrating through the hall. He looked down at Khalid, who was still recovering on the floor, and a small, sharp smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "You speak of ruin and revenge with such confidence, Khalid," Tariq said, his voice cutting through the murmurs of the family. "But I'm curious. How exactly do you plan to act on those threats? It's difficult to crush someone when you're about to lose everything you own. Tell me, what does a man do when he's staring down the barrel of total bankruptcy?" Rami Al-Farsi let out a sharp, jagged laugh, stepping forward to stand near Khalid. "Bankruptcy? Tariq, you've finally lost your mind. Look at that cheque on the table. One million. That's more money than you'll see in ten lifetimes of riding your pathetic scooter." "He's delusional," another family member chimed in, sneering at Tariq's worn clothes. "He thinks because he made a phone call that failed, he can suddenly predict the future of a man like Khalid. Khalid is an executive at Mansour Corporation. You're a delivery boy with a vivid imagination." Khalid began to climb to his feet, dusting off his expensive suit, his eyes burning with hatred. "You're dead, Tariq. I'll make sure of it. Once Yusuf Saleh arrives, you won't even have a home to crawl back—" His sentence was cut short by the frantic vibration of the phone in his pocket. Khalid snatched it out, intending to silence it, but his face paled when he saw the caller ID. He quickly pressed it to his ear, his aggressive posture wilting instantly. "Sir? Yes, Vice President, I'm here," Khalid said, his voice trembling. The voice that came through the speaker was deep, dignified, and carried a cold finality that reached the ears of those standing closest. "Khalid Saab," the Vice President stated, his tone devoid of emotion. "This call is to formally notify you that your employment with Mansour Corporation is terminated, effective immediately. Furthermore, a forensic audit has uncovered your misappropriation of company funds. Your personal and professional properties are currently being frozen for liquidation. Do not bother returning to the office. Legal counsel and the authorities are already processing the warrants for your arrest." The line went dead with a clinical click. Khalid stood frozen, the phone slipping slightly in his sweaty palm. The color drained from his lips, leaving his face a ghostly, sickly grey. The one-million-cheque sitting on the table—the very symbol of his power minutes ago—was now nothing more than a scrap of worthless paper. He was no longer a rising star; he was a criminal in a high-end suit. Tariq watched him, his expression unchanged. The prediction had landed with the weight of a falling mountain. Panic flared in Khalid's eyes, but it was quickly replaced by a desperate, feral calculation. He looked toward Layla. If the news of his firing and the embezzlement reached the Farsis now, he was finished. But if he could lock in the marriage tonight—if he could tie his fate to the Farsi family before the police arrived—he might still have a chance to use their resources to flee or fight the charges. He had to secure Layla before the world realized he was a hollow shell. Rami Al-Farsi, noticing the sudden, terrifying shift in Khalid's demeanor, stepped closer. His voice was uncharacteristically soft, pitched in a flattering, subservient tone. "Khalid? What is it? You look like you've seen a ghost," Rami asked, reaching out as if to steady the man he viewed as his golden ticket. "Was that the office? Is there something wrong with the investment plans?" Khalid didn't answer immediately, his gaze darting toward the door as he waited for the one man who could still change the tide of the evening. ════════════════════════════════════════