Chapter 7

The heavy doors of the private dining room swung open, and Karim Darwish stepped inside with the practiced gait of a man who owned the floor. Behind him, Tariq Mansour followed, his presence muted by the borrowed Al-Majid Couture suit that seemed to hang with an awkward, stiff formality on his frame. The room was already humming with the voices of their former classmates, the air thick with the scent of expensive cologne and the clink of silverware against fine china. "Look who's here!" one of the former classmates shouted, standing up to wave them over. Karim's face lit up with a practiced, toothy grin as he began making the rounds, shaking hands and slapping shoulders. Tariq remained at the periphery, his eyes scanning the gathering until they settled on a woman sitting near the center of the long table. It was Sana Khoury. Even after three years, she remained the beauty of their college years, her figure elegant and her expression composed. Karim immediately gravitated toward her, pulling out the chair next to her with a flourish. "Sana! It's been too long. You look more radiant than you did at graduation. I heard you've been doing incredible things lately." Sana offered a shy, soft smile, though she kept a professional distance in her posture. "Thank you, Karim. You haven't changed much." "Oh, please," Karim laughed, leaning in. "I'm just trying to keep up. But I heard the rumors. You're at Mansour Corporation now, aren't you? That's no small feat." Sana nodded modestly, smoothing her skirt. "I'm currently the administrative manager. It's a lot of work, but the board has been supportive. I've actually been told I'm being promoted to general manager next month." The table erupted in a chorus of congratulations. Karim beamed as if her success were his own. "General manager! At Mansour Corporation? That's one of the biggest players in the city. Sana, you really are the pride of our class." Tariq, listening from a few feet away, felt a flicker of intrigue. Mansour Corporation. The very entity he had just demanded control over from his family. He looked at Sana with a new perspective, realizing that if his demands were met, he would technically be her superior within days. He moved toward the table, intending to take the empty seat on Sana's other side. As Tariq reached for the chair, Sana's gaze shifted to him. Her eyes traveled from his face down to the fabric of his suit, and her brow furrowed into a sharp, visible line of distaste. "Tariq?" she asked, her voice turning direct and cold. "What are you doing?" Tariq paused, his hand hovering over the back of the chair. "I was going to sit here. Is this seat taken?" Sana didn't look away, her expression hardening. "I'd rather you didn't sit next to me. Why are you even here, Tariq? This is a reunion for people who have... well, for people who have moved forward." Tariq stood still, the rejection landing with a blunt force that silenced the nearby conversations. "It's a class reunion, Sana. I'm part of the class." "You're a live-in son-in-law who spends his days buying groceries," Sana said, her voice carrying across the table. "Don't sit here. Your presence is making me uncomfortable." Karim let out a sharp, mocking bark of laughter, drawing the attention of the entire room. He leaned back in his chair, pointing a finger at Tariq. "Sana, don't let the suit fool you. Do you know how he got here? He arrived on an old electric bike. I almost ran him over in the parking lot because he was wobbling around like a beggar." The classmates began to whisper, their eyes darting between Tariq and Karim. "An electric bike?" one girl giggled. "In that suit?" "That's the best part," Karim sneered, his eyes gleaming with malice. "Look at the fit. It's Al-Majid Couture, sure, but look at the sleeves. He's clearly borrowed it or found it in a bin to try and save face today. He's pretending to be rich to sit at our table, while everyone knows he's just a servant for the Farsi family." "That's enough, Karim," a voice rang out. Zahra, Tariq's former deskmate, stood up from the far end of the table. Her figure was as comely and elegant as ever, but her face was flushed with indignation. "He's our classmate. There's no need to be this cruel. So what if he's a son-in-law? That doesn't give you the right to humiliate him." Karim's smile didn't falter; it only grew sharper. He stood up and walked toward Tariq, reaching out before Tariq could move. With a swift, aggressive motion, Karim grabbed the collar of Tariq's jacket and pulled it back, exposing the inner lining. "Look at this!" Karim shouted, pointing to a small, tucked-away tag that Tariq hadn't noticed. "The price tag is still on it. Tens of thousands of dollars, and he hasn't even tucked the tag. He's probably planning to return it tomorrow after he's done playing dress-up. Tell us, Tariq, did your mother-in-law give you an allowance for the rental, or did you steal this from a real man's closet?" Zahra tried to speak again, but the room was filled with the sound of collective mockery. The status Tariq had tried to project was stripped away in an instant, leaving him standing there in a suit that now felt like a costume. Suddenly, Tariq's phone began to vibrate violently in his pocket. The ringtone was loud, cutting through the laughter. Tariq pulled it out, seeing Lina Haddad's name flashing on the screen. He hesitated, but the persistence of the vibration forced him to answer. "Hello?" he said quietly. "Tariq! Where the hell are you?" Lina's voice screamed through the speaker, so loud that those sitting nearby could hear every word. "I just walked into the guest bathroom and the toilet is filthy! I told you to scrub it before you left the house! Get back here right now and do your job. Do you think you're a guest in this house? You're a dog! Get home and wash the toilet!" The line went dead. The silence that followed was far worse than the laughter. Tariq stood with the phone pressed to his ear, his face pale. The image of the "Al-Majid suited businessman" had been utterly destroyed by the reality of the "toilet-scrubbing son-in-law." Karim wiped a tear of laughter from his eye. "Washing toilets? My god, Tariq, you've really reached the pinnacle of success. Go on then. Your master is calling. You don't want to keep the toilets waiting." He turned away from Tariq, dismissing him as if he were a piece of trash. "Get out of here. You're ruining the atmosphere. We have actual professionals here who want to enjoy their evening." Tariq didn't move immediately. He looked at Sana, who was looking away, her face full of disgust. He looked at Zahra, who looked down at her plate, unable to defend him against the sheer weight of the humiliation. Karim ignored Tariq's lingering presence and turned back to the table, his voice booming with renewed confidence. "Now that the help is leaving, let's actually have a real dinner. Sana, I want you to try the best this place has to offer. My cousin, Khalid Saab, is a project manager at your company, you know. He's very close with the higher-ups. I'll make sure he puts in a good word for your promotion." He snapped his fingers, summoning a waiter who had been hovering near the door. "Waiter!" Karim barked, his voice filled with a fake, arrogant authority. "Bring us your best wine. Don't bring us that house swill. I want the finest bottle in the cellar. Money is no object tonight." The waiter approached tentatively, bowing slightly. "Sir, our finest vintage is a rare reserve. It is priced at nearly eight thousand dollars per bottle. Would you like me to bring the wine list first so you can verify?" Karim let out a loud, dismissive laugh, glancing at Sana to make sure she was watching. "Eight thousand? Is that all? I told you, don't waste my time with warnings. I'm a Darwish. Open it. Bring two bottles. We're celebrating a future general manager tonight." The waiter hesitated, his eyes flickering toward Tariq, who was still standing by the door, then back to Karim's expensive-looking watch. "Very well, sir. I will bring the reserve immediately." Karim leaned back, crossing his arms, a smirk of total triumph on his face as he looked at the door, waiting for Tariq to slink away. ════════════════════════════════════════