Chapter 8

Tariq Al-Farsi leaned back in the passenger seat of the multi-purpose vehicle, his muscular frame dwarfing the interior as Karim sat silently behind the wheel. Layla Ghazi sat beside him, her fingers tracing the edges of the hundred-million-dollar contract with a mix of awe and lingering confusion. She looked out the window at the receding gates of the Najm Group headquarters, then turned her gaze to Tariq. "Tariq, tell me the truth," Layla said, her voice dropping to a cautious whisper. "That villa we stayed in—the Dar Al-Malik. How did you get it? And how do you know someone like Sami Haddad?" Tariq didn't blink. He kept his expression neutral, his voice carrying the calm, explanatory tone of a man with nothing to hide. "The Dar Al-Malik isn't mine, Layla. It belongs to a friend of mine from the service. He's traveling abroad and let me look after it while I'm in Al-Waha. As for my family… I'm an orphan. I've had to rely on friends and my own two hands for a long time." Layla's eyes narrowed, her doubt visible in the slight tilt of her head. "An orphan? But you carry yourself like… and that friend must be incredibly powerful to own a place like that. It doesn't feel right." Tariq let a small, playful smile tug at the corner of his mouth. He leaned slightly toward her, his authoritative presence softening into a tease. "What's this? Are you disappointed? I thought you were worried about me being a criminal or a fraud. Now that you hear I'm just a man with a rich friend and no inheritance, you're looking at me differently. Don't tell me my wife is a materialist after all." Layla's face flushed, and she pouted, crossing her arms over her chest. "That's not it at all! You know I don't care about money. If you have nothing, it doesn't change anything." She looked him directly in the eyes, her voice steady and reaffirming. "Money is not an issue, Tariq. I have the Najm Group contract now. I'll be the one to earn for this family. I can take care of us. You don't need to rely on 'friends' or feel like you have to prove anything to the Ghazis. I'll protect you." Tariq's smile lingered, though his eyes remained sharp, scanning the road ahead. Karim remained a silent shadow in the driver's seat, his hands steady on the wheel, eyes fixed on the path. The vehicle slowed as it approached the exit of the business district. Suddenly, a figure darted from the sidewalk, throwing herself against the passenger side window. The glass thudded under the impact of frantic hands. Layla gasped, recoiling as she recognized the woman. It was Hala Al-Khoury, but she was unrecognizable from the polished professional of an hour ago. Her hair was a tangled mess, her expensive blouse was torn at the collar, and her face was a map of red welts and swelling. "Layla! Layla, please!" Hala screamed through the glass, her voice cracking with desperation. "Help me! Talk to Chairman Haddad! I've lost everything!" Before Layla could react, a heavy hand grabbed Hala by the hair and yanked her back. Fahd Saab stumbled into view, his face twisted in a mask of pure rage. He looked disheveled, his tie hanging loose. He backhanded Hala again, sending her spiraling to the pavement. "You stupid bitch!" Fahd yelled, ignoring the car for a moment to loom over the trembling woman. "It's your fault! You brought that woman here! You cost me my position, my reputation! I'm ruined because of your pathetic schemes!" Karim's hand moved toward the door handle, his eyes seeking instruction from the rearview mirror. Tariq simply waved a hand dismissively, his gaze barely flickering toward the violence outside. "Karim, drive," Tariq commanded, his voice firm and flat. "Wait!" Layla cried out, her hand reaching for the lock. "Tariq, he's hurting her! We can't just leave Hala like that. She's my classmate, she—" Tariq reached over and gently but firmly placed his hand over hers, preventing her from opening the door. He gave her a reassuring smile, one that didn't reach the cold calculation in his eyes. "Don't get involved, Layla. It's just a lovers' tiff. They deserve each other. People like that only turn on one another when the profit disappears. Let them settle it." As the vehicle began to roll forward, Fahd Saab seemed to snap out of his fit of rage. Seeing the car moving, he scrambled toward the driver's side. He fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes—a premium brand that cost at least one hundred dollars a pack. He thrust it toward Karim's window in a pathetic gesture of camaraderie. "Wait! Sir, please!" Fahd shouted, an awkward, pleading smile stretching across his face as he looked past Karim toward Layla. "Miss Ghazi! Layla! I was wrong! I was confused! Please, just one word to Chairman Haddad. Tell him it was a misunderstanding. I'll do anything!" He reached into his inner jacket pocket and pulled out a thick envelope, slapping it against the glass. "Ten thousand dollars! Right here! It's yours, just for a phone call. Please, don't let him fire me!" Hala crawled toward the rear wheel, sobbing and begging, but Tariq didn't look back. He turned to Layla, his expression shifting back to the supportive husband. "Ignore them," Tariq said. "You have a mission, remember? You need to take this contract to the Ghazi Villa. Show it to your grandfather. This is what secures your place in the family. Don't let these parasites distract you from your moment." He looked at the driver. "Karim. Go. Now." The engine roared, and the multi-purpose vehicle pulled away, leaving the two disgraced Najm employees in a cloud of dust and desperation. Layla watched them in the side mirror until they were specks in the distance. She turned to Tariq, a mischievous glint finally returning to her eyes. "Did I do that?" she asked playfully. "Did I really cause both of them to lose their jobs just by showing up?" Tariq chuckled, shaking his head. "You didn't 'cause' anything, Layla. People like Fahd and Hala build their lives on shifting sand. They were already corrupt and incompetent. You merely hastened their inevitable dismissal. You were the catalyst, not the cause." The drive to the Ghazi Villa was swift. As they pulled into the driveway, the atmosphere shifted. The Ghazis had heard the news of Layla's restored beauty, and the vultures were already circling. Ever since the word spread that the "disfigured" daughter was now a stunning beauty, Khalid Ghazi's perspective had shifted from finding a husband to unload a burden to finding a buyer for a prize. Inside the main hall, Omar Ghazi was standing next to a young man dressed in a sharp, designer suit. The young man exuded an air of effortless, bored arrogance. This was Faisal Sharif, a notorious playboy from the powerful Sharif family. "Grandfather," Omar said, grinning as he gestured toward Faisal. "I've brought Faisal Sharif to meet us. He's very interested in our situation. We've been discussing it—it's clear that a woman of Layla's new caliber shouldn't be tied down to a penniless soldier. The plan is simple: Layla divorces Tariq Al-Farsi immediately and becomes Faisal's girlfriend. It's the best move for the Ghazi Group." Khalid Ghazi sat in his high-backed chair, a thin smile on his face as he nodded. "An excellent suggestion, Omar. The Sharifs are Al-Arba'a Al-Kibar. A connection like that is worth more than any sentiment." The doors to the hall swung open. Layla walked in, her head held high, with Tariq following a step behind her like a silent guardian. The room went quiet. Faisal Sharif's bored expression vanished instantly, replaced by a predatory hunger. He stared at Layla, his eyes roaming over her smooth skin and perfect features. Layla didn't look at Faisal. She walked straight to Khalid Ghazi and produced the leather-bound folder. "Grandfather, I have it. The hundred-million-dollar contract from Najm Group. It's signed and official." She paused, her voice ringing with a mix of pride and challenge. "Now that I've fulfilled the requirement, is there any more talk of kicking us out? Can Tariq stay as my husband without further insult?" Omar Ghazi stepped forward, his face twisting in a sneer. He didn't even look at the contract. "Don't get ahead of yourself, Layla. We have a guest. This is Faisal Sharif. Show some respect." He pulled a cigarette from a silver case and held it out toward Faisal, then barked at Layla, "Come here and light this for Faisal. Be a good hostess." Layla recoiled, her brow furrowing as she felt Faisal's intense, uncomfortable stare. "I won't do that. I'm here to discuss business with my grandfather, not to serve as a maid for your friends." "Layla!" Khalid Ghazi's voice cracked like a whip. "You forget your place! This is a scion of the Sharif family. Your disrespect is an insult to this entire house!" Faisal Sharif leaned back, his expression darkening. He ignored the cigarette and looked at Khalid. "She's got spirit. I like that. But let's be clear, old man. I want her. This contract she's holding? It's worthless if I say so. The Sharif Group has a permanent partnership with Najm. One word from my father, and Sami Haddad will tear that paper into confetti. If you want that deal to stay alive, Layla divorces this loser today." Tariq, who had been standing in the shadows of the doorway, finally stepped forward. His voice was casual, almost conversational, but it carried a weight that made the air in the room feel heavy. "Faisal Sharif," Tariq mused, tilting his head. "That name sounds familiar. Weren't the Sharifs busy today? I heard your patriarch, Adnan Sharif, met with a bit of… misfortune. A decapitation, if the rumors are true. And your brother, Issa, I believe he's missing an arm? It seems strange for you to be here hunting for a wife when your family is in such a bloody state. Did you even attend the banquet, or were you too busy hiding?" The color drained from Faisal's face, replaced quickly by a flush of humiliated fury. The deaths at the banquet were a guarded secret, a stain of shame the Sharifs were trying to suppress. "You son of a bitch!" Faisal roared, leaping to his feet. "How dare you speak his name? You're a dead man!" Faisal lunged across the space, his hand raised to deliver a stinging slap to Tariq's face. Tariq didn't flinch. As Faisal's hand swung, Tariq moved with a fluid, almost lazy grace. He didn't strike back; he simply placed a hand on Faisal's chest and gave a gentle, firm push. The impact sent Faisal stumbling backward. His heels caught on the edge of a rug, and he collapsed into a heap against a side table, shattering a porcelain vase. "You touched me!" Faisal screamed, scrambling up, his eyes wild with rage. "A peasant like you touched a Sharif! Grandfather Ghazi, look at this! I demand he cuts off that hand right now, or I'll have my men burn this villa to the ground with everyone inside!" Omar Ghazi rushed to Faisal's side, his eyes gleaming with malice as he looked at Tariq. "Faisal is right! Kill him! Grandfather, let him do it! Tariq is a nobody, a drifter. No one will care if he disappears. Kill him, and Layla is yours, Faisal. It solves everything!" Layla stepped between Tariq and the others, her face flushed with a fury that matched her husband's hidden intensity. She slammed the hundred-million-dollar contract down on the table in front of Khalid Ghazi with a force that made the pens rattle. "Enough!" Layla shouted, her voice trembling with indignation. "Grandfather, you gave your word! You said if I brought this contract, you would acknowledge Tariq! This is a hundred million dollars! It is the future of the Ghazi Group! Are you a man of your word, or are you just a puppet for the Sharifs?" Khalid Ghazi looked from the contract to the enraged Faisal Sharif, his fingers twitching over the leather folder. The room held its breath as the patriarch stared at the seal of the Najm Group. ════════════════════════════════════════