Chapter 15

Jawad Al-Hashemi stared at his phone, his face pale as the blood drained from his cheeks. The confirmation from his contacts was undeniable: the Al-Badr Gallery exhibition was cancelled. Not postponed, not moved—cancelled. The prestige he had promised the Ghazi family was evaporating in real-time. He looked up, catching the expectant eyes of Khalid and Nour Ghazi. Khalid remained silent, his expression unreadable but his disappointment heavy in the air. Nour, usually so vocal, simply watched Jawad with a flickering uncertainty. "Is something wrong, Jawad?" Nour asked, her voice dipping into a concerned tone. Jawad forced a smile, though it didn't reach his eyes. "A minor administrative hiccup at the gallery. Nothing to worry about, but I need to handle it personally to ensure everything is perfect for the celebration." He turned to Khalid Ghazi, bowing slightly. "Uncle Khalid, please excuse me for a moment. I must go to Al-Badr Gallery immediately to finalize the logistics. I won't be long." "Of course, Jawad. Business first," Khalid replied, his voice cold and dismissive, though directed more at the situation than the man. "So much dedication," Nour whispered, following Jawad toward the door. "Are you sure you don't need help? You look so urgent!" Jawad didn't look back as he hurried to his car, his mind racing through every connection he had, trying to understand who could have the power to shut him out of Al-Badr. Nour walked back into the living room, her face hardening the moment she saw Rana standing near the hallway. Layla was quiet in the background, her pale face a constant reminder of the burden Tariq had placed on the family. Rana remained silent, her gaze fixed on the floor. "Look at you," Nour scolded, her voice sharp. "Jawad is out there moving mountains for this family's reputation, and you're still tied to that useless delivery man. And the child—always so sickly. If you had listened to me years ago, we wouldn't be in this position." Rana didn't respond. She simply tightened her grip on her own sleeve. Khalid, ignoring the domestic spat, picked up the painting Jawad had gifted him—The Desert Bloom. "I'm going to the study to show this to the neighbors," he muttered. "At least one thing today brings this house honor." While the Ghazi household stewed in its own tensions, Tariq Murad pulled up to the entrance of Al-Badr Gallery. He stepped out of the car and paused, looking up at the structure. The design was breathtaking—a seamless blend of modern glass and ancient structural principles that seemed to defy the surrounding desert landscape. It was elegant, stylish, and carried a quiet authority that most buildings in Madinat Al-Waha lacked. Tariq's eyes traced the sharp lines of the roof. He remembered the man who drew them. Ziyad Reyes. The world knew him as a reclusive genius who only produced one masterpiece a year, a man whose time was worth more than gold. Tariq remembered him differently—as a man who had once sat across from him, sweating, as Tariq handed over three hundred million in cash. That was the price Tariq had paid Ziyad to design a single private mansion years ago. Now, Ziyad's work stood here, serving as a front for Tariq's interests. He walked toward the main glass doors. Before he could reach the handle, a young woman in a sharp uniform stepped out. "I'm very sorry, sir," Sara Jaber said, her voice soft and polite. She kept her head slightly bowed. "Al-Badr Gallery is temporarily closed to the public today. We are not accepting any visitors at this time." Tariq stopped and looked at her. "I'm not a visitor. I'm looking for someone." Sara looked up, blinking. She took in Tariq's simple clothing, which lacked the shimmer of the city's elite. "Sir, even so, the manager has given strict instructions. No one enters without an appointment." "Who gave you permission to speak to this person, Sara?" a sharp, haughty voice cut through the air. Huda Al-Amri marched out from the lobby, her heels clicking aggressively against the polished stone. She was the lead receptionist, and her posture screamed of a woman who believed she owned the air everyone else breathed. She glared at Sara, who visibly flinched. "I-I was just explaining the closure, Huda," Sara stammered, her voice trembling with fright. Huda ignored her and turned her gaze to Tariq. Her eyes raked over him with pure disgust. "Look at this. A migrant worker wandering onto the plaza? Do you have any idea where you are? This isn't a construction site for the slums. This is Al-Badr." "I have business here," Tariq said calmly. "Business?" Huda snorted, her lip curling. "The only business a man dressed like you has is carrying bricks. Sara, move aside. You're too soft on these people." She stepped closer to Tariq, pointing a manicured finger toward the side of the building where a secondary wing was under renovation. "The labor entrance is that way. They've been waiting for the extra hands to move the materials. Get moving before I have security throw you out for loitering." Tariq didn't move. He looked at the finger pointed at his chest, then back at Huda's face. "I think there's a misunderstanding. I'm here to see Lina Quinn." Huda froze for a split second before bursting into a mocking, high-pitched snicker. "Lina Quinn? You? You want to see the Gallery Manager?" She turned back to Sara, who was looking increasingly uncomfortable. "Did you hear that? The laborer wants an audience with the Director. Tell me, do you also have a dinner reservation with the Mayor later tonight?" She stepped right into Tariq's personal space, her voice dropping into a pompous hiss. "Listen to me, you pathetic little man. Miss Quinn is currently handling high-level affairs. People like you don't even get to breathe the same air as her. Now, get to the construction site and start working, or I will make sure your agency never gets a contract in this city again." Tariq's expression darkened. The calm he usually maintained was being tested by the sheer, unearned arrogance of the woman standing before him. "I'm not part of a labor agency," he said, his voice dropping an octave. "And I suggest you stop talking before you say something you can't take back." Huda let out a sharp, barking laugh. She turned to a group of actual workers who were resting nearby, shouting at them to get back to work before turning her venom back on Tariq. "You're threatening me? A nobody? I am the head of reception at the most prestigious gallery in the country. I control who enters and who is erased. I could have your salary docked for the next ten years with a single phone call to the site foreman." She stepped back, crossing her arms over her chest, looking at him with a snort of derision. "You're all the same. You get a little bit of dirt on your boots and think you're a man of the earth. You're nothing but a stain on the marble of this lobby." Tariq's eyes turned cold, a predatory stillness settling over him. "You have a very high opinion of your position, Huda. But the truth is, you don't have the right to stay in Al-Badr Gallery. Not after today." Huda stared at him for a beat of silence, then doubled over, her laughter echoing through the glass-walled entrance. "I don't have the right? I've been here since the opening! You're hilarious. Truly. Maybe you should be a comedian instead of a bricklayer." "What is all this noise?" The laughter died instantly. Huda straightened up as if an electric current had passed through her. Lina Quinn stepped through the inner doors, her brow furrowed in a deep frown. She looked immaculate, her presence commanding immediate silence from the workers and the receptionists alike. Huda didn't miss a beat. She quickly jogged toward Lina, her face shifting from mockery to a fawning, flattering mask. "Miss Quinn! I am so sorry for the disturbance," Huda said, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. "This... this person wandered in from the street. He's been causing a massive scene, claiming he has an appointment with you. I was just in the process of having him removed so he wouldn't offend our guests or ruin the atmosphere. He's a total troublemaker, probably looking for a handout or a job he isn't qualified for." Huda pointed a thumb back at Tariq, a smug, triumphant grin tugging at the corners of her mouth as she waited for Lina to deliver the final blow. ════════════════════════════════════════