Chapter 32 · Chapter 32

Before I could take three paces toward the arched foyer, Ammi Tariq’s voice cracked the stillness behind us, ragged and venomous.

"You imagine numbers on a screen sever family obligations, Nayef?" Tariq spat, his knuckles white against the carved armrest as he forced himself upright. The remaining witnesses in the hall paused, their white thobes rustling softly against the wool carpets, eyes lowered to avoid the indignity of his desperation. "You are an outsider to the Al-Zamil line. You hold no mandate to bar an uncle from his brother’s estate."

Nayef did not spin around in temper. He merely stopped, turning back with that measured, crushing stillness that commanded the room far more completely than any shout.

"You came here under the courtesy of a guest, Tariq," Nayef said, his voice flat, devoid of heat, yet chilling every corner of the majlis. "You came to demand an inheritance that does not belong to you, before men whose respect you have squandered."

Nayef raised two fingers toward the corridor entrance.