Chapter 5 - The Night the Rahal Family Turned Against Its KingKareem dismissed Samir from his position the following morning.
He didn't do it publicly.
He didn't threaten him.
He simply ordered an independent review of every company account Samir had controlled and revoked his access to confidential records.
By noon, the news had spread through the Rahal organization.
By evening, three senior executives had resigned.
And by midnight, someone had attempted to break into the office of Kareem's private attorney.
I learned about the break-in from Layla.
She called while I was staying in a temporary apartment arranged through a victim-support organization.
"Nia, are you alone?"
"Yes."
"Lock the door."
My heart jumped.
"What's happened?"
"Someone is trying to destroy records."
"Samir?"
"We don't know."
I sat on the edge of the bed.
"Where's Kareem?"
"At the family residence. His nephews have called a meeting."
Something in her voice frightened me.
"What kind of meeting?"
"The kind people call when they believe a man is losing control."
The Rahal family was larger and more complicated than I had realized.
Kareem had two younger brothers, both involved in legitimate businesses.
One had died several years earlier.
The other lived in Dubai.
His nephews managed various companies.
His advisers controlled shipping contracts, real estate, and investments.
Many owed their positions to Kareem.
But loyalty built around power was fragile.
And the discovery of old criminal evidence threatened everyone who had benefited from the empire.
That evening, Kareem's nephew Omar confronted him.
Omar was thirty-eight, handsome, ambitious, and convinced he should inherit control of the family companies.
According to Layla, he arrived with several executives and demanded that Kareem step aside temporarily.
"You've allowed a waitress to influence a seventy-million-dollar negotiation," Omar said.
Kareem remained seated behind his desk.
"Her name is Nia Brooks."
"I don't care what her name is."
"Then perhaps you should."
Omar slammed a folder onto the desk.
"Our partners are withdrawing. Investors are asking questions. And Samir says you're accusing him of crimes based on photographs supplied by a stranger."
Kareem looked at the folder.
"Samir is under investigation."
"By whom?"
"The police."
Omar laughed bitterly.
"You've invited the police into our affairs?"
Kareem stood.
"Our affairs should withstand scrutiny."
The room fell silent.
Omar stared at him.
"Since when do you believe that?"
Kareem didn't answer immediately.
Then he said, "Since I learned what my silence cost Margaret Brooks."
Omar shook his head.
"You're destroying everything Grandfather built."
"No," Kareem replied. "I'm discovering what was stolen in his name."
By the next morning, the family had divided into two camps.
Some supported Kareem.
Others supported Omar.
And Samir had disappeared.
Detective Alvarez called me shortly after breakfast.
"We need to talk."
"Did you find Samir?"
"Not yet. But we recovered security footage from the Bellweather Room."
I sat upright.
"What does it show?"
"Something interesting."
She explained that Samir had met Charles Whitmore in a service corridor forty minutes before Kareem arrived.
They spoke for less than three minutes.
Then Samir handed Charles a folded document.
"What was it?" I asked.
"We don't know. But Charles placed it in his jacket."
I remembered the evening.
Charles had behaved strangely during the negotiations.
His insulting remarks had seemed careless.
Now I wondered whether they had been deliberate.
"What if he wanted Kareem to leave?" I asked.
"Why?"
"Because he knew I'd speak to him."
Alvarez was silent.
Then she said, "Someone may have been counting on your grandmother's language lessons."
The thought made me sick.
My entire life had felt ordinary until that Saturday.
Now every detail seemed suspicious.
My job.
My manager.
The restaurant.
Even the reason Kareem had been invited there.
I called Jasmine.
She answered immediately.
"Girl, I have been waiting for you to call."
"Are you okay?"
"I'm fine. Trent's acting like somebody stole his last dollar."
I almost laughed.
"Listen, Jasmine. Did anyone ask about me before Saturday?"
She hesitated.
"Actually, yes."
My stomach tightened.
"Who?"
"A man came in about three weeks ago. Said he was from a hospitality recruitment company."
"What did he want?"
"He asked whether you still worked here."
I closed my eyes.
"What did Trent say?"
"That you were reliable but difficult."
Of course he had.
"Did the man leave a card?"
"I think so."
"Can you find it?"
"I'll try."
An hour later, Jasmine sent me a photograph.
The business card belonged to a consulting company called Meridian Hospitality Partners.
I searched the name.
The company had been incorporated six months earlier.
Its registered address was a virtual office.
Its listed director was a man named Elias Mercer.
I forwarded the information to Alvarez.
Twenty minutes later, she called back.
"Nia, where did you get this?"
"Jasmine."
"Don't contact Mercer."
"Why?"
"Because Elias Mercer is an alias used by someone connected to Samir Haddad."
I felt my blood turn cold.
"Who?"
Alvarez paused.
"His younger brother."
I stared at the wall.
Samir had not simply discovered me at the restaurant.
His family had been looking for me.
And someone had arranged for Kareem to find me at exactly the same time.
That evening, a courier delivered a sealed envelope to my temporary apartment.
There was no return address.
Inside was a photograph of Grandma standing beside Daniel.
On the back, someone had written:
Your grandmother lied about one thing that matters more than all the others.
Below it was a second sentence.
Ask Layla who your father was.
I stared at the words until they blurred.
May you like
Then I picked up my phone.
And called the woman who had been crying every time my grandmother's name was mentioned.
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