Chapter 21

Sami Haddad adjusted his tie, his hands trembling slightly as he stared at his vibrating phone. The caller ID displayed a name that commanded absolute submission. He pressed the receiver to his ear, bowing his head instinctively despite being alone in his office. "How is the partnership with Daim Group going?" Tariq Al-Farsi's voice came through, cold and direct. "All good, Tariq Al-Farsi," Sami replied, his voice pitching higher in his haste to be respectful. "Terminate the partnership with Daim Group," Tariq commanded. The authority in his tone brook no argument. "Tell the Ghazis Najm will only work with Layla. And sort out the rumors between you and her. Protect her reputation." Sami didn't hesitate. He didn't ask about the millions already invested or the legal ramifications. "I will get it done right now." The line went dead. Sami immediately signaled his secretary. Within minutes, the legal department of Najm Group was drafting termination notices, and the logistics fleet was mobilized. At the Ghazi residence, the air was thick with the smug satisfaction of having finally purged Layla from their ranks. Khalid Ghazi sat in his high-backed chair, sipping tea, until the doors burst open. Yousef Ghazi stumbled into the room, his face ashen, his chest heaving as if he had run a marathon. "Najm Group has terminated our partnership!" Khalid's teacup clattered against its saucer. He stood up, his eyes bulging. "What? What did you say?" Omar and the other family members froze, the sneers vanishing from their faces. "Najm terminated our partnership," Yousef repeated, his voice dropping into a hollow, defeated tone. "Now, several trucks are waiting at our factory to transport the raw materials back. They're stripping the warehouses, Father." Khalid collapsed back onto the couch. His cane fell to the floor with a dull thud. The despair was visible in the sag of his shoulders; without Najm Group, the Ghazis' dream of ascending to the upper-class families of Al-Waha was dead. The loss wasn't just financial; it was the total destruction of their future. "What else did Najm say?" Khalid roared suddenly, thumping his fist against the sofa cushion. "Spit it out!" Yousef flinched, glancing nervously at Omar before looking back at the patriarch. "Najm's chairman, Sami Haddad, said he would only work with Layla. With Layla gone, he will never work with us." The silence that followed was suffocating. Khalid's face turned a deep, mottled purple. He reached out, grabbed his cane, and swung it with surprising force. The wood cracked against Yousef's shoulder, then swung around to catch Omar across the ribs. "Go and get Layla now!" Khalid screamed, his voice cracking with fury. He lashed out again, whacking any family member within reach. "Find her! Bring her back!" Across the city, in Mustashfa Al-Sha'ab on Shari' Al-Afa'i, the atmosphere was far more somber. Layla was awake, but she looked like a ghost of herself. She sat on the hospital bed, her head propped on her knees, her arms tightly hugging her calves as if trying to hold her broken spirit together. Tariq sat by her side, his expression softening as he watched her. He spoke quietly, trying to draw her out of the hollow shell she had retreated into, but her eyes remained fixed on a spot on the sterile floor. Her phone began to buzz on the bedside table. The screen illuminated, flashing Yousef Ghazi's name. Layla didn't move. She didn't even blink. Tariq reached over, looked at the screen, and promptly ended the call. "Who... who was it?" Layla asked, her voice weak and stained with the remnants of tears. "That was Yousef," Tariq said. "Oh." Layla didn't ask what he wanted. She didn't ask why Tariq had hung up. She simply tightened her grip on her legs, her indifference more painful to witness than her previous outbursts. Tariq leaned forward, searching her face. "Do you really want to go home? Looking at how the Ghazis are treating you, I don't think it's a terrible loss if you don't go back." Layla gave a listless, bitter laugh that ended in a sob. "Go back? Can I still go back there? I can never go back. I'm cursed, Tariq. I've caused so much trouble for my family. Now, grandfather has cast me out. Even mom doesn't want me anymore." The phone rang again. Same caller. Tariq picked it up and held it out to her, his thumb hovering over the accept button. "Do you want to take it?" Layla hesitated, then slowly reached out and took the device. She pressed it to her ear. "Layla, where are you?" Yousef's voice exploded through the speaker, thick with a desperation she had never heard from him. "Tell me, I'm coming to pick you up!" The listlessness vanished instantly. Layla's posture straightened, her eyes widening as hope surged through her. "I... I'm at Mustashfa Al-Sha'ab on Shari' Al-Afa'i." She lowered the phone, her hands shaking. She turned to Tariq, throwing her arms around his neck and burying her face in his shoulder. New tears began to flow—not of grief, but of a desperate, fragile joy. "Tariq Al-Farsi, uncle's picking me up," she sobbed into his chest. "I'm going home. I'm going home!" Tariq held her, his gaze looking past her toward the hospital door, his expression unreadable as he felt the frantic heartbeat of a woman who didn't yet realize she was the only leverage her family had left. ════════════════════════════════════════