Chapter 26 · Chapter 26

The silence that settled over the majlis was not an absence of sound, but the heavy weight of an unpayable debt. Abu Fahad remained rigid near the threshold, his fingers clenched into the fringe of his bisht, unwilling to concede the floor even as the driver waited beyond the arched doors.

Along the perimeter carpets, the remaining elders of the Al-Zamil line sat unmoving, their gaze fixed on the low brass table where the dispute had stalled.

They had believed Nayef’s intervention was merely an exercise of will—a powerful man closing his doors around a woman out of pride. If they thought that, they fundamentally misunderstood the ledger.

I stepped into the center of the hall, my dark silk abaya trailing without a rustle over the thick weave of the wool runners. My head was covered, the shaila pinned neatly, leaving only the sharp line of my brow and the steady resolve in my eyes visible to the room. I did not raise my voice.