112.

Ibrahim paced back and forth in his luxurious office, his hands clenched into fists, the veins on his temples pulsing with fury. His son Faraz had crossed the line this time. To dare ask for company shares—the nerve.

Ibrahim slammed his palm against his mahogany desk, his voice rumbling with suppressed rage. “How dare he think he has the right?” he hissed through gritted teeth. “Just because he shares my blood, he believes he’s entitled to this company?”

He glared out the window, his mind whirling. No, he couldn’t let Faraz worm his way into his hard-earned empire, especially not at Murad’s expense. His youngest son, Murad, had always been his pride, the one he groomed to carry on the family legacy.

With determination hardening his features, Ibrahim grabbed his phone and dialed Murad’s number. The line rang only twice before Murad picked up.

“Father?” Murad’s familiar, calm voice echoed through the receiver. “Is everything alright?”

Ibrahim exhaled sharply, his jaw tight. “Murad, we have a situation.” He paused, composing himself. “Faraz has shown up, demanding shares of the company.”

“What?” Murad’s voice sharpened with surprise. “Faraz is here? When did he arrive?”

“Just today,” Ibrahim replied, his voice dripping with disdain. “He didn’t even have the decency to announce his visit properly. He stormed into my office, demanding what he has no right to claim.”

Murad’s disbelief was evident. “What does he expect, barging in like that? It’s not his place.”

“Exactly,” Ibrahim agreed, his tone growing colder. He sank into his chair, leaning forward as if Murad could see the plotting gleam in his eyes. “We need to ensure he stays out of our business. I won’t let him disrupt everything we’ve worked so hard to build. You understand, don’t you?”

Murad took a moment to process the news, but his reply was resolute. “I understand. What do you have in mind, Father?”

Ibrahim’s lips curled into a sinister smile. “Let me handle the details. For now, be prepared. If Faraz is planning something, we’ll be ready.”

Murad ended the call with a sigh, his brow furrowed. As much as he wanted to be loyal to his father, there were limits even he couldn’t cross. The idea of plotting against his brother, regardless of their differences, unsettled him. Faraz had every right to defend himself and know what was coming.

Murad stood from his leather chair in his private office cabin, tucking his phone into his pocket. The spacious room, lined with tall bookshelves and a modern glass table, felt suffocating all of a sudden. He grabbed his blazer, threw it over his arm, and left the cabin, his footsteps brisk and determined.

Walking down the hallway, Murad debated his decision. Should he really betray his father’s trust? But the more he thought about it, the more his conscience screamed that he had to do what was right. If he stayed silent, Faraz would walk right into a trap.

Finally reaching the café across from their corporate building, Murad spotted Faraz sitting near the window, a cup of coffee steaming on the table in front of him. Faraz wore a sharp navy suit, his hair neatly styled, but his usually confident demeanor seemed dimmed, weighed down by tension.

Murad took a deep breath, then stepped forward. As he approached, Faraz looked up, his eyes narrowing in surprise.

“Murad?” Faraz’s voice carried a hint of skepticism. “To what do I owe this sudden visit?”

Murad pulled out the chair opposite him and sat down, his expression grave. “We need to talk, Faraz. It’s important.”

Faraz arched an eyebrow, setting down his cup. “Talk? What about?”

Murad hesitated for a second, then leaned forward. “About Father,” he said, his voice low but urgent. “And his plans to make sure you don’t get what you’re asking for.”

Faraz's jaw clenched. He folded his arms over his chest, bracing himself. “I figured he wouldn’t just let me have a share of the company without a fight,” he muttered bitterly. “But what kind of plan are we talking about?”

Murad sighed, rubbing his temple. “An ugly one,” he confessed. “He’s determined to keep you out of the company, and he’s willing to do whatever it takes to make sure you don’t get in his way. I don’t know the specifics, but he’s plotting something big, and it’s coming soon.”

Faraz’s eyes darkened, his hands tightening into fists. “Typical,” he said, his voice dripping with frustration. “Our father always played favorites, and I’ve always been on the losing end. But I didn’t expect he’d go this far.”

Murad’s gaze softened, guilt flickering across his face. “I didn’t come here to argue or take sides,” he said quietly. “I just… I couldn’t let you be blindsided. Whatever happens next, be prepared.”

Faraz’s expression shifted, a mix of surprise and gratitude flashing in his eyes. For a moment, the tension between the brothers eased, replaced by a sense of reluctant camaraderie.

“Thank you,” Faraz said, his voice sincere. “I appreciate you telling me, even if it means going against him.”

Murad stood, his shoulders heavy with the weight of the choice he’d made. “Just be careful,” he warned. “Father won’t forgive me if he finds out I told you. But I’d rather face his anger than let you walk into this unprepared.”

With that, Murad turned and left the café, leaving Faraz deep in thought, the storm of betrayal and determination brewing in his eyes.