Chapter 17

Riad Pike leaned back in the plush leather chair of the gallery's private lounge, his feet propped up on the polished mahogany table. He looked up as Lina Quinn entered, a smug grin stretching across his face. "Get out of my office, Riad," Lina said, her voice dropping to a glacial temperature. "I have work to do, and your presence is an unnecessary distraction." Riad didn't move. He laced his fingers behind his head, relishing the way her jaw tightened. "Now, Lina, don't be like that. As the operations director, I have every right to be in here. This gallery belongs to the people who run it, doesn't it?" Outside, in the corridor leading toward the auxiliary storage area, Huda Al-Amri stood with her hands on her hips, blocking Tariq's path. She gestured toward a stack of crates and a pile of construction debris near the service entrance. "You there," Huda barked, pointing a manicured finger at Tariq. "Don't just stand there like a statue. We have a renovation deadline. Get to work moving those materials." Tariq looked at the crates, then back at Huda, his expression blank. "I'm not here to work on the construction." Huda's face flushed a deep, angry red. "Don't you dare talk back to me! I don't care which contractor sent you. In this gallery, my word is law for people like you. Pick up those boards or I'll have your pay docked before you even earn it." "I am looking for Lina Quinn," Tariq said, his voice steady despite the growing displeasure in his eyes. Huda let out a sharp, jagged snort of laughter. "Looking for the manager? You? Look at yourself. You're lucky if I let you use the service elevator. A laborer asking for Miss Quinn is like a stray dog asking for a seat at a banquet." Tariq tilted his head. "Is that how you speak to everyone who comes here?" "I speak to people exactly how they deserve to be spoken to," Huda replied, snorting again as she turned to a group of nearby workers. "Listen up! If any of you think you can slack off like this one, you'll be out on the street by sunset. This is Al-Badr Gallery, not a charity house for the lazy." Tariq's eyes darkened as he watched her perform for the crowd. "What is your name?" "Huda Al-Amri, head of reception and administration," she said, thrusting her chin out. "Why? Are you going to go cry to someone? Go ahead. See who believes a migrant worker over me." "Huda Al-Amri," Tariq repeated, nodding slowly. "You don't have the right to stay in this building anymore." Huda erupted into a cackle that echoed off the high ceilings. "I don't have the right? I've been here for years, you fool! I'm the soul of this front office. You're nothing but a pair of hands and a dusty shirt." The office door swung open, and Lina Quinn stepped out, her brow furrowed at the commotion. "What is all this noise? Huda, why are you shouting in the corridor?" Huda's demeanor shifted instantly. She scurried toward Lina, her voice turning syrupy and helpful. "Oh, Miss Quinn, I'm so sorry you had to come out. It's just this troublemaker. This laborer refuse to follow orders and keeps insisting on seeing you. He's been incredibly disrespectful." Lina turned her gaze toward the man standing by the crates. Her face remained a mask of professional neutrality as she looked at Tariq. "Are you causing trouble in my gallery?" Tariq didn't answer. Instead, he reached into his pocket and took out his phone. Huda didn't wait for his response; she stepped between them, her voice rising to a bellow. "Look at him! He's ignoring you now! This is exactly what I'm talking about. He has no respect for authority. We should call security immediately and have him dragged out of here. He's a threat to the guest experience!" Lina ignored Huda's outburst and checked her own phone as it vibrated. Her eyes widened as she read the caller ID. She looked at Huda, her voice direct and clipped. "Go to the main entrance. Prepare the staff. We are expecting a very important guest—the new owner. Everything must be perfect." Then, Lina's phone pressed to her ear. "Hello? Yes, I am here. I am ready to receive you." "Look behind you," a voice said, coming both from the phone and from the man standing five feet away. Lina froze. She turned slowly, her heart hammering against her ribs. She looked at Tariq—really looked at him this time. The realization hit her like a physical blow. This wasn't just a delivery man or a stray worker. This was the man who had inherited the legacy of Mazen Al-Ghamdi, the man backed by the shadow of Fahd Abbas. Mazen, a man worth three hundred million, had been nothing more than a servant to the interests this man represented. Lina's knees trembled. She immediately bent her body into a deep, ninety-degree bow, her voice trembling with terror. "I... I didn't recognize you. Please, forgive my blindness. Welcome to Al-Badr Gallery, Mr. Murad." Huda's jaw dropped so far it looked painful. Riad Pike, who had followed Lina out of the office, stood frozen in the doorway, his smug expression replaced by a look of sheer bewilderment. Tariq looked down at the bowing manager, his voice cold. "Your staff seems to have a very specific way of greeting people, Lina." "I am so sorry, sir," Lina whispered, still bowed. Riad Pike broke the silence, letting out a forced, nervous laugh. "Lina, what are you doing? Mr. Murad? You're bowing to a guy in a work jacket? Is this a joke? Is he your boyfriend or something?" Lina straightened up, her face flushed with fury. "Riad, get out. Now. You are relieved of your duties." Riad's eyes narrowed, and he stepped forward shamelessly. "Fire me? You can't fire me. I'm the operations director. And you certainly can't fire Huda. We have contracts, Lina. You can't just throw us out because you want to play house with a migrant worker." Huda, finding her courage again as she moved closer to Riad, leaned into his arm and looked at Lina with pure condescension. "Exactly. Who do you think you are? You're twenty years old and you think you can run this place? You're probably only in that position because you've spent the last twenty years guarding your 'precious' reputation just to give it away to a loser like this." Riad chuckled, his gaze turning menacing and greedy as he looked Lina up and down. "She's right. Don't offend me for the sake of a peasant, Lina. It's not worth it. Tell you what—come have dinner with me tonight, and maybe I'll forget you ever tried to fire us. We can discuss how the gallery *really* works." "Dinner?" Huda burst out, her voice sharp with jealousy as she gripped Riad's arm tighter. "Why are you asking her for dinner? After she just insulted us?" She turned her glare back to Tariq. "And as for you, if you want to keep your skin intact, you'll kneel right now and apologize for the trouble you've caused. Kneel and beg Mr. Pike for forgiveness!" Tariq maintained a faint smile, his eyes fixed on Huda. "You want me to kneel?" "You heard her," Riad added, his voice dripping with contempt. "Kneel down, apologize to the lady, and maybe I won't have the police haul you away for trespassing." "Shut up!" Lina screamed, her voice cracking with pure rage. "Both of you, shut your mouths!" Huda rolled her eyes, mocking Lina's distress. "Oh, look at her. She's so protective of her little laborer. It's pathetic, really. Look at him—he's probably never seen more than a hundred riyals at once. He doesn't belong in the same zip code as this gallery." Tariq stepped toward Riad, his smile never wavering. "What did you say your name and position were again?" Riad sneered. "Riad Pike. Operations Director. Not that a bug like you needs to know." Tariq turned his head slightly toward Lina. "Lina. Fire them both. Effective immediately. I want a full financial audit of every department Riad Pike has touched. Investigate him for corruption, kickbacks, and abuse of power. If there is a single riyal missing, I want him in a cell." The hallway went silent for a heartbeat before Riad erupted into a cackle. "Fire us? Investigate me? Who do you think you are, the Sultan? You're a nobody!" Huda snickered, shaking her head. "He's delusional. He actually thinks he has power here." Lina didn't laugh. She pulled out a radio and spoke into it with a cold, sharp smile. "Security to the main lounge. Now. Bring the financial head and the legal lead. We have a termination and a criminal referral." The laughter died in Riad's throat as four large security guards rounded the corner, followed by the gallery's legal counsel. They didn't move toward Tariq. They moved toward Riad and Huda. "What are you doing?" Riad shouted as a guard grabbed his arm. "Let go of me! I'm the director!" Lina ignored him. She took a tablet from a passing assistant, tapped a few commands, and then looked at Tariq. "The termination notices are generated, sir. The financial audit has already flagged three suspicious accounts linked to Mr. Pike's department." "Post the notice," Tariq said calmly. "Post it right at the main door so every guest and staff member knows that these two are no longer permitted on the premises." Riad's face went pale. The reality of the situation crashed down on him like a mountain. The legal counsel was nodding to Tariq. Lina was standing in a posture of total submission. This man wasn't a worker. He was the boss. Riad's legs gave out. He fell to his knees, the sound of his joints hitting the floor echoing in the hall. "Wait! Mr. Murad! Please! I didn't know! I was just joking! Please, don't do this!" He began to slap his own face, hard, the cracks of palm against skin sounding like pistol shots. "I'm a fool! A dog! Please, forgive me!" Huda stood paralyzed, her mouth hanging open. She looked at the guards, then at Tariq, her body beginning to shake with a violent tremor. Two police officers, who had been stationed near the entrance for the upcoming exhibition, stepped forward as Lina signaled them. They didn't hesitate. Riad's hands were pulled behind his back, and the cold click of handcuffs snapped shut. "No! Please! I have a family! Lina, tell him!" Riad screamed as he was dragged toward the exit, his shoes scuffing uselessly against the marble. Huda fell to her knees next, sobbing. "Mr. Murad, please! I was just doing my job! I didn't mean those things! I'll do anything! Please don't fire me, I need this job!" Tariq didn't even look at her. He looked past her to a young woman standing timidly by the reception desk—Sara Jaber, who had watched the entire scene with wide, frightened eyes. "Lina," Tariq said coldly. "Get this woman out of here. And put that girl—Sara—in her position. She seems to know how to treat people with basic decency." Lina nodded. "Understood, sir." She gestured to the remaining guards. "Take her out. Use the service exit. She is never to enter this building again." Huda's screams of "Please!" and "I'm sorry!" faded as she was hauled away, leaving a heavy silence in the corridor. Tariq adjusted his jacket, his expression returning to one of calm indifference, while the remaining staff stood in petrified rows, none of them daring to meet his eyes. He turned his gaze toward the main gallery hall, where the preparations for Jawad Al-Hashemi's exhibition were still underway. ════════════════════════════════════════