Chapter 4

Yusuf Saleh's face twisted into a mask of thundering rage as he stormed toward the entrance of Al-Saqr Delivery Services. He pointed a trembling finger at the beaten-up scooter parked haphazardly near the curb, and then at the sleek, imposing Al-Fares that had pulled up behind it. "Tariq Murad! You brainless idiot!" Yusuf bellowed, his voice echoing off the warehouse walls. "You're blocking the path for the new boss's car! Do you have any idea what kind of trouble you're bringing down on us?" Beside him, Jamil Nasser stood with his arms crossed, his brow furrowed in a deep, annoyed scowl. Behind the tinted glass of the Al-Fares, Fahd Abbas remained motionless, watching the scene unfold with a stony expression. A few staff members gathered near the loading bay, whispering and nudging each other. "Isn't that the guy who used to own this place?" one delivery rider muttered, adjusting his helmet. "Talk about a fall from grace. From owner to delivery boy, and now he can't even park a bike right." "He's always been a bit of a loser since he came back," another whispered. "I heard his wife's family treats him like a dog. Now he's going to get crushed by the new management before they even step out of the car." Jamil Nasser turned his cold gaze toward Yusuf. "Manager Saleh, is this your staff?" Yusuf's posture shifted instantly, bowing slightly toward Jamil with a look of oily subservience. "Boss, you don't come here often, so I forgot to introduce you. This is Tariq Murad, our company's ex-owner. He's now just a lowly delivery man here. A real bottom-feeder, honestly." Jamil's frown deepened as he looked at Tariq, who was standing by his scooter with an unbothered, almost bored expression. Jamil's eyes flicked to the Al-Fares, then back to the scruffy man in the delivery uniform. "Clear out that good-for-nothing so we can welcome the new owner," Jamil ordered, his tone dripping with dismissive contempt. Yusuf turned back to Tariq, a cheekily malicious grin spreading across his face. "Tariq, you heard the man. Pack your bags and go! You're an eyesore and a liability. Get lost!" Tariq didn't move. He didn't flinch. He simply spat a single word onto the pavement. "Lunatic..." Yusuf's face went from red to a dark, bruised purple. He stepped forward, his chest heaving. "F*ck! Try saying that again! I dare you!" Tariq let out a short, cold laugh, his eyes locking onto Yusuf's with a sudden, piercing intensity that made the manager hesitate for a fraction of a second. "As you wish then, you lunatic! Your whole family is crazy if they think I'm moving for you." "You're a dead man, Tariq!" Yusuf screamed through gritted teeth, his fists clenched at his sides. "You are now fired! And don't think you're just walking away. You need to reimburse the company for the losses you have made with your incompetence!" Just as Yusuf reached out to grab Tariq's collar, the rear door of the Al-Fares swung open. The heavy thud of the door silenced the crowd. Fahd Abbas stepped out, his presence immediately commanding the entire lot. His eyes were burning with a cold, sharp fury as he scanned the scene. "Who dares to fire him?!" Fahd's voice wasn't loud, but it carried a weight that made the air feel heavy. He ignored the stunned silence of the employees and walked straight past Jamil and Yusuf. When he reached Tariq, the man who held the keys to seventy percent of the world's wealth, Fahd stopped and bowed his head slightly. "Fahd Abbas, sorry I was late," the chairman said, his tone shifting to one of profound, neutral respect. The silence that followed was absolute. The delivery riders froze. Jamil Nasser's jaw dropped. Yusuf Saleh stood paralyzed, his hand still half-raised in a threatening gesture. Then, Yusuf let out a sudden, jagged burst of laughter. "Old Mister, are you our new owner?" Yusuf asked, clutching his stomach as if he'd heard the funniest joke of his life. "You can stop joking around. This Tariq is the lowest level of staff in our company, so you must be mistaken! You probably just saw a delivery guy and got confused." Jamil Nasser stepped forward quickly, his face pale as he tried to salvage the situation. He reached out an arm to usher Fahd toward the office. "Fahd Abbas, please don't joke with us like that. This is just a misunderstanding with a disgruntled employee. Come, let's talk inside. We have the paperwork ready for the transition." Fahd Abbas didn't move an inch. He turned a chilling, icy gaze toward Jamil. "Who's joking with you? This is your company's new owner!" Tariq tilted his head, a faint, mocking smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he looked at the trembling Yusuf. "Brother Saleh, didn't you just say that you want to fire me?" Yusuf roared, his fear manifesting as a desperate, blind aggression. "Tariq! Are you asking for trouble? Don't call me Brother Saleh! You think because you found some old actor to play a part that you're someone? You better scram now and reimburse the company's loss! That'll be ten thousand!" Yusuf held out his hand, shaking it aggressively. "What are you staring at? Hand out the money now! Ten thousand dollars for the delays and the disrespect!" Tariq's smile didn't fade. He just stared into Yusuf's eyes, watching the man crumble under the weight of his own delusion. "What's wrong with me staring?" "You're just looking for trouble, aren't you?" Yusuf snickered, looking around at the other staff for support, though no one was laughing now. "I'd just be doing you a favor if I didn't fire you for what you have just said. But now? You're done." "Then, I'll tell you what, Yusuf," Tariq said, his voice dropping into a nonchalant, terrifyingly calm register. "I'm firing you now. So you can beat it." Yusuf opened his mouth to scream another insult, but Fahd Abbas stepped into his line of sight, his eyes like daggers. "If our young master says to fire you, you're fired!" Jamil Nasser's heart skipped a beat. He looked at Fahd Abbas—the man who controlled the Murad Group's local interests—and then at Tariq. The realization hit him like a physical blow. He didn't hesitate. He spun around and delivered a stinging slap across Yusuf's face. "Yusuf Saleh, get lost this instant!" Jamil roared, his voice cracking with panic. "You're fired!" Yusuf stumbled back, clutching his reddening cheek, his eyes wide with pure, unadulterated disbelief. "Boss... Boss, what do you mean by this? Why are you hitting me? I was defending the company!" "What I mean," Jamil hissed, leaning in close to Yusuf's face, "is that Tariq Murad is the new owner. And since he says you're fired, you're fired!" Yusuf began to tremble, his legs nearly giving out. He looked at the delivery uniform Tariq was wearing, then at the Al-Fares, then at the bow Fahd Abbas had given. "Impossible! He's already bankrupt! I saw the records! How could a broke man like him be the new owner? It's a trick!" Jamil looked at Yusuf with genuine pity mixed with disgust. "He's not as simple as you think he is, you fool." The company staff stood in a semi-circle, their eyes wide, watching the man they had mocked for months suddenly ascend to a height they couldn't even fathom. Tariq stepped forward, his presence now filling the space in a way it never had before. "Yusuf Saleh, from now onwards, you're fired. Beat it!" The bravado drained out of Yusuf instantly. He collapsed to his knees, reaching out to grab at the hem of Tariq's trousers. "Tariq Murad... I was too blind! I didn't recognize you for who you were. I was too full of myself, please! Please don't fire me. Seeing that we used to be colleagues, please let me stay in the company. I'll do anything! I'm willing even to make deliveries! Just let me keep a job!" Tariq looked down at the man groveling at his feet and snorted. "Now you know that you're at fault. But, would you have forgiven me if this didn't happen? If I was still just the delivery man you wanted to kick? Your wrongdoings will only bring about self-destruction!" He turned his back on Yusuf, looking out at the rest of the staff. Among them stood Yasmin Al-Farsi, dressed in her neat black uniform skirt set. Her face was a mask of shock, her hands pressed to her chest as she watched the man she had tried to protect reveal himself as the master of her world. "I know that a lot of you had looked down on me when I was in my darkest moments," Tariq announced, his voice steady and neutral. "But that's okay. From today on, all of your salaries will be doubled!" A collective gasp went through the crowd, followed by a stunned, hesitant cheer. Tariq's gaze shifted, landing on Yasmin. "One more thing," Tariq said. "Yusuf's manager position will be replaced by Yasmin Al-Farsi." Yasmin froze. She looked around, certain he was talking to someone else, but Tariq was looking directly at her. "Tariq... No, Tariq Murad," she stammered, her voice conflicted and high-pitched with nerves. "Are you... are you promoting me to become a manager?" Tariq offered her a genuine, warm smile. "Yasmin Al-Farsi, what's wrong? Don't you believe in your abilities?" "I... I'm just afraid I might not be good enough," she whispered, her head ducking in a moment of sudden doubt. "I've never managed anyone before." "Relax, Yasmin Al-Farsi," Tariq reassured her. "Take your time to get used to things, and don't worry. You were the only one who treated me like a human being when I had nothing. You'll do fine." As Tariq turned to follow Fahd towards the Al-Fares, Yasmin watched him go, her mind racing. Who was he really? He had lived for years in poverty, enduring the insults of men like Yusuf and the coldness of his own wife's family. Why? Why act poor if he was so rich he could buy a company on a whim? Inside the quiet, climate-controlled luxury of the Al-Fares, the atmosphere was different. Fahd Abbas sat across from Tariq, a professional smile on his face as the car pulled away from the warehouse. "Fahd Abbas," the butler said, using Tariq's formal title. "There is an investment project tomorrow, and you have to meet the other company's boss. It's a vital step in re-establishing your presence in the Murad Group's local portfolio." Tariq leaned his head back against the leather seat and spoke crisply. "I'm not going." Fahd didn't seem surprised. "It is a requirement of the transition, Young Master." "I was forced to inherit the family wealth," Tariq said, his voice rising with a touch of indignation. "I only did it because I needed to save Layla. So don't even think about asking me to go anywhere! I'm done with the hoops." Fahd remained perfectly calm. He adjusted his cuffs and looked out the window. "Then, Fahd Abbas, please return that hundred thousand to me." Tariq choked on his next word. He thought of the cash he had just thrown at Karim Haddad, the money that was currently buying his daughter's life and his wife's temporary silence. He didn't have a hundred thousand dollars of his own; he only had the Murad fortune, which Fahd controlled the access to. "Fine, fine, fine!" Tariq snapped, waving a hand dismissively. "I'll go, okay? Just stop bringing up the money." Fahd's smile returned, subtle and triumphant. "Alright. I will come and pick you up tomorrow. The meeting is set for the afternoon." The Al-Fares glided to a halt near the entrance of a high-end shopping district where Tariq had requested to be dropped off. He stepped out of the car, the heavy door closing with a soft, expensive thud behind him. He took a breath, trying to shake off the weight of the Murad name, when he spotted a familiar figure standing near the glass doors of a nearby restaurant. Rana Ghazi was standing there, her brow furrowed, her eyes tracking the luxury car that had just departed. When her gaze landed on Tariq, her expression shifted from confusion to a sharp, narrowed suspicion. She began walking toward him, her heels clicking rhythmically on the pavement. ════════════════════════════════════════