The city sprawled beneath Nadia's penthouse window, glowing in the night like a breathing, living entity. It was late—too late for any sane person to still be awake—but sleep had been elusive for days.
The accusations still echoed in her mind. The whispers, the stares, the online articles dissecting every move she made. They hadn't won. Not yet. But they were trying.
Her phone vibrated against the marble countertop. She almost ignored it until she saw the caller ID.
Mama.
She sighed, rolling her shoulders before answering. "Mama—"
"You're coming home."
No greeting. No pretense. Just a firm declaration that left no room for argument.
Nadia's grip on the phone tightened. "Mama, I'm fine here."
Her mother's voice was steady, but there was something beneath it—something tense. "No, you're not."
Nadia bristled. "I can handle myself."
"You shouldn't have to."
A flicker of warmth touched her chest, but she didn't let it show. "Mama, I fought hard to stand on my own. If I run back now, it will look like I've lost."
"You're not running," her mother said, softer now. "You're repositioning. A good strategist knows when to retreat."
A familiar ache settled in Nadia's throat.
A second voice broke through the call. "Nadia… please, come home it'll just be for a day."
Ayla.
Nadia exhaled sharply, pressing two fingers against her temple. "You're in on this too?"
Her younger sister's voice was quieter than their mother's but no less firm. "Mama's right. The board is getting restless. Baba is trying to hold things together, but it's getting harder every day. The rumors… they're spreading."
"Let them spread," Nadia said through gritted teeth. "I will clear my name."
"How?" Ayla challenged. "When every move you make is being watched? When the media is already building a noose around your neck?"
Silence.
"You need to be here," Ayla continued, her tone gentler now. "Where it's harder for them to reach you. Where you have a real foundation."
Nadia swallowed hard.
She wanted to refuse. She wanted to say she could fight this alone. But Ayla's words chipped away at her defenses. Her sister wasn't wrong.
Her mother's voice returned. "I won't let them tear you down, Nadia. You are my daughter. I will fight for you. But even the strongest need a fortress."
A fortress.
For so long, she had seen her childhood home as a cage. A golden one, but a cage nonetheless. Now, it was beginning to look like something else entirely.
A shield, a shield she so desperately needed, from the claws of those tearing at her, before she broke down trying to protect herself and fight back.
She sighed, pressing a hand against the cold marble of the counter. "Alright. I'll come home, but just for a day okay, I don't want them to think I'm running away."
---
Meanwhile in a penthouse at the high end side of the city, Sara leaned back in the leather chair, stretching her legs out in front of her as she studied the man across from her.
Kareem was comfortable—too comfortable, given that their first attempt to ruin Nadia hadn't gone as planned. But then again, she supposed that was his charm. Nothing rattled him.
"That wasn't enough," she said, swirling the dark red wine in her glass.
Kareem smirked. "Patience."
Her fingers twitched against the stem of the glass. "We don't have time for patience."
"We have more than you think."
She scoffed. "Nadia survived the last attack because the evidence wasn't strong enough. We need something airtight—something even her father can't ignore."
Kareem tapped his fingers against the desk, considering. "A financial scandal."
Sara tilted her head.
He continued, his voice smooth. "Falsified transactions. Offshore accounts. We make it look like she's been draining the company dry. Stealing from the very empire she's so desperate to protect."
Sara's lips curled. "Perfect."
He chuckled. "By the time we're done, her father will have no choice but to strip her of her title. And her precious reputation?" He took a slow sip of his drink. "Gone."
Sara lifted her glass in a silent toast. "To the downfall of Nadia Al-Fayeed."
Their glasses clinked, the sound echoing in the quiet room like the first note of a funeral march.
__
The car ride felt longer than it should have.
The streets she had once driven through without a second thought now felt foreign, distant. The weight of returning pressed down on her chest, each passing streetlight illuminating the cold reality she was stepping back into.
By the time the car rolled to a stop in front of the estate's towering iron gates, her fingers had curled into fists against her lap.
The gates opened.
The mansion stood before her, untouched by the storm raging outside its walls.
She stepped out.
The moment she did, her mother was there, sweeping her into a firm embrace.
"You made the right decision," she murmured against Nadia's temple.
Nadia's throat tightened, but she said nothing.
A soft scoff came from the side. "At least now we won't be bored," Ayla quipped, crossing her arms.
Nadia huffed a quiet laugh, shaking her head. "Somehow, I doubt that's true."
But the warmth of the moment faded when her father stepped into the room.
Her shoulders straightened instinctively, her breath steadying.
"Baba," she greeted carefully.
He studied her for a long moment, his dark eyes unreadable.
Then, finally, he nodded.
"We'll talk tomorrow."
Her stomach twisted.
Tomorrow.
She had a feeling she wasn't going to like what that conversation would bring.