Chapter 6

Early the next morning, the vibration of his phone on the nightstand pulled Tariq Al-Farsi from his thoughts. He answered to the sound of Layla Ghazi's voice, breathless and vibrating with an energy he hadn't heard from her in years. "Tariq! You won't believe it," Layla said, the words tumbling out in a rush. "I reached out to an old classmate from the university, Hala Al-Khoury. She's a department head at Najm Group now! She told me she can set up an appointment directly with the chairman, Sami Haddad. This is our chance to secure the order and prove everything to my grandfather." Tariq leaned back, his expression unreadable. He had already summoned Sami Haddad to heel, but Layla's excitement was a rare, fragile thing he didn't wish to crush with the weight of his own machinations. "That's good news, Layla. Don't go anywhere yet. Stay at home and wait for me. I'll pick you up." "I'll be ready," she promised. Tariq ended the call and stood, his frame casting a long shadow across the room. He walked toward the door where Karim was already waiting, standing like a statue in his black tank top and cap. "Where to, Al Qaid?" Karim asked, his voice a low, factual drone. "Pick up Layla," Tariq said. "Then to the Najm Group's office." The multi-purpose vehicle glided through the streets of Al-Waha, arriving at the Ghazi residence within minutes. Layla was already standing by the curb. She had clearly spent hours preparing. Her skin, once marred by the scars of the fire but now restored to a flawless, porcelain smooth finish, glowed under the morning sun. She wore a professional suit that accentuated her regained confidence, her hair styled with a precision that spoke of her desperation to succeed. As she stepped into the car, the interior seemed to brighten. She didn't notice Karim's silent, disciplined presence behind the wheel; her eyes were fixed on Tariq. "I'm so nervous, but Hala sounded so certain," Layla said, clasping her hands in her lap. "If we get this thirty-million-dollar order, the Ghazi Group will be saved, and no one can look down on us ever again." Tariq offered a thin, controlled smile. He looked at her, noting the way her beauty had returned even more vibrantly than before. "You look like you've already won, Layla. You're the one who will secure this. I'm just here to see it happen." Layla gave him a brilliant, radiant smile that reached her eyes. "I can do this. I have to. For both of us." As the vehicle merged into the mid-morning traffic, Layla turned her gaze to the window, her expression shifting to one of contemplation. "Did you hear the news this morning? It's all over the radio and the social feeds. Adnan Sharif is dead." Tariq shifted slightly, his face a mask of perfect, feigned shock. "The patriarch of the Sharifs? That's unexpected." "Unexpected? It's terrifying," Layla whispered, a shiver running through her. "He was decapitated. Right in the middle of his own birthday banquet. They say someone even tore the arm off Issa Sharif. The Sharifs are the leaders of Al-Arba'a Al-Kibar. They have so much power, so much influence... and yet, in one night, their world was turned upside down." She looked at the towering skyscrapers of the business district as they passed. "Sometimes I envy people like that. Not the tragedy, of course, but the wealth. To have so much money that the whole city bows to you. If we had even a fraction of that, we wouldn't be fighting for scraps from the Najm Group." Tariq watched her profile, the way she looked at the symbols of Al-Waha's elite. "If that's what you want, Layla—wealth and power—maybe you should divorce me. A woman with your beauty and a successful business record could easily find a rich man to give you all of that." Layla's head snapped around, her eyes flashing with a mix of annoyance and genuine affection. She reached out, swatting his arm playfully before settling back into her seat with a blissful sigh. "Don't be ridiculous, Tariq. Money is just paper and numbers. You're sincere. You stayed with me when I was a 'monster' in everyone else's eyes. You're worth more than all the gold in the Sharif vaults. I'd rather have a husband who stands by me than a billionaire who looks past me." Tariq remained silent, but a flicker of warmth touched his heart. Karim, true to his training, kept his eyes on the road, his hands steady on the wheel as they approached the heart of the city. The Najm Group's office loomed ahead—an imposing, eight-story monument of glass and steel that dominated the surrounding blocks. It was the seat of power for the Haddad family's interests in Al-Waha. As the car pulled into the polished circular driveway, Layla's confidence seemed to waver. She looked up at the sheer scale of the building and a visible tremor took hold of her hands. "It's so big," she murmured, a hint of panic entering her voice. "What if Hala can't actually get us in?" "Call her," Tariq said simply. Layla took a breath, smoothed her skirt, and dialed. "Hala? It's Layla. We're downstairs at the main entrance." They waited in the lobby, a cavernous space of marble and security checkpoints. Karim stood several paces behind them, an inconspicuous but lethal shadow. It took twenty minutes before a woman in a sharp, expensive designer dress strutted out of the elevator bank. Her heels clicked rhythmically against the stone floor, her chin tilted at an arrogant angle. "Layla?" Hala Al-Khoury stopped a few feet away, her eyes widening as she scanned Layla's face. The shock was evident; she had expected the scarred, broken woman from the rumors, not this radiant beauty. "My god, your face... the rumors said you were ruined." "I recovered, Hala," Layla said, offering a polite, slightly forced smile. "It's so good to see you. You've done so well for yourself here. Thank you for agreeing to help me with Chairman Haddad." Hala's shock quickly morphed into a smug, condescending smirk. She looked at Tariq, dismissing him instantly as a nobody, and then back to Layla. "The Chairman? Layla, be realistic. Sami Haddad doesn't just see anyone who walks off the street. Even as a department head, I can't just knock on his door." Layla's face fell. "But you said on the phone—" "I said I could help," Hala interrupted, crossing her arms. "And I can. But meeting the Chairman requires the permission of the General Manager. He's the gatekeeper. And the General Manager, Fahd Saab, is a very... busy man. He doesn't give out favors for free." Hala leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper that Tariq heard perfectly. "Look, Layla, you're beautiful again. Use it. If you want that thirty-million-dollar order, you need to be prepared to do what it takes. Sleep with Manager Saab. One night, and the contract is yours. It's how the world works." Layla recoiled as if she had been slapped. "What? Hala, how can you even suggest that? I'm married! I came here for a professional meeting, not to... to sell myself!" Hala rolled her eyes, her expression turning impatient and cold. "Don't be so provincial. This is the Najm Group. Everyone makes sacrifices for a deal of this size. Do you want to save your family business or do you want to play the virtuous wife? You can't have both in this city." "I thought you were my friend," Layla said, her voice rising with anger. "I thought you were helping me because of our time at university." "Friendship doesn't pay the bills, Layla," Hala snapped. "Sacrifice is the currency of Al-Waha. If you're too weak to pay the price, then you're wasting my time." Hala turned on her heel and began to walk away, throwing a final comment over her shoulder. "If you change your mind and decide to be a grown-up, let me know. Otherwise, don't bother coming back." Layla stood frozen in the center of the lobby, her eyes brimming with tears. She turned to Tariq, her shoulders slumped, the confidence she had spent all morning building now shattered into dust. "I'm useless, Tariq. I thought I could do this on my own merit. I thought being a Ghazi meant something, or that my education mattered. But to them, I'm just a piece of meat to be traded for a signature." Tariq stepped forward, his hand resting firmly on her shoulder. His voice was a calm, grounding force in the midst of her distress. "You aren't useless, Layla. And you won't be sacrificing anything. We didn't come here to see a manager. We came to see Sami Haddad. And that is exactly what we are going to do." "But Hala said—" "Hala doesn't decide who you see," Tariq said, his eyes turning toward the elevators. "Go up there. Walk past the desks. You are Layla Ghazi, and Sami Haddad will see you because he has no other choice." Before Layla could respond, the elevator doors opened again. Hala Al-Khoury returned, but this time she wasn't alone. Walking beside her was a man in his late forties, wearing a suit that cost more than a Ghazi Group annual salary. He had a soft, pampered look to him, his eyes roaming over Layla with a predatory intensity that made Tariq's jaw tighten. "Layla, this is Fahd Saab," Hala said, her voice now dripping with a performative sweetness. "The General Manager I was telling you about." Fahd Saab didn't look at Tariq. He didn't look at the lobby. He stared directly at Layla's face, his tongue flicking across his upper lip. He took a step into her personal space, ignoring the way she flinched back. "Hala told me you were looking for an order," Fahd said, his voice oily and thick with unearned authority. "Usually, we start small. Thirty million is a lot for a family like yours. But I'm a generous man when I'm impressed." He reached out as if to touch Layla's chin, but she stepped behind Tariq. Fahd's eyes narrowed for a moment before he chuckled. "Tell you what, Layla. I like your spirit. And I like your face even more. Forget the thirty million. I'll give you a fifty-million-dollar deal. I'll sign it right now. All you have to do is come up to my private suite and spend the afternoon making sure I'm... comfortable. One afternoon for fifty million dollars. That's a better rate than any queen in history." Hala smirked, watching Layla's reaction with cruel anticipation. "See, Layla? Manager Saab is being more than fair. Fifty million! Think of what that would do for your standing in the Ghazi family." Fahd leaned forward, his gaze locked on Layla, completely disregarding the muscular man standing in his way. "What do you say, beautiful? Is your 'sincerity' worth fifty million dollars, or are you ready to be a real businesswoman?" ════════════════════════════════════════