𝐂𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐁𝐲 𝐕𝐨𝐰𝐬

Chapter 6

°°°

She never looked nice, she looked like art

°°°

Aamirah.

I stand in the expansive lobby of one of the most influential companies in the city. The grandeur of this place is almost overwhelming—the marble floors, the sleek glass walls, and the hum of activity create a backdrop that feels both exhilarating and intimidating.

But amid the opulence, my focus is singular and urgent: I am here to meet the Mr. Salem, and his boss; a person whose influence and resources might be our last hope.

Al Syeds are well known and influential  name around the world, I had searched about them, they are not only in legal business but also someone with a reputation for philanthropy and a network that spans beyond the corporate world.

If there’s anyone who might be able to help us, it's definitely them. But I know they won't do it for free, as everything has a price.

I just want my baba to be safe and sound, my family won't shed a single tear after this, I had made the promise to myself.

Even if I'm not sure what will happen, but I'll be there for my family, just like mama and baba sacrificed many things for us and for our happiness now it is my responsibility.

As I wait in the lobby, my nerves are a tight knot in my stomach. I clutch a folder containing all the relevant documents and letters from the hospitals and the things Mr. Salem had asked me to bring.

Every detail in that folder is a reminder of how precarious our situation is. I have tried every other avenue available to me, and now, with no other options left, I’m hoping that a personal appeal might make a difference.

The receptionist approaches with a professional, though sympathetic, demeanor. “Ms. Aamirah, Sir will see you now. Please follow me.”

Sir? Who is this sir? Maybe she is talking about Mr. Salem.

I rise from the plush chair and follow her through a corridor lined with framed accolades and sophisticated artwork. The walls seem to close in as I approach the office, each step magnifying my anxiety. I remind myself to stay composed, to remember why I am here and the gravity of my family's situation.

We arrive at the office door, which opens into a large, tastefully decorated room. Mr. Salem is behind a substantial mahogany desk, his posture relaxed but authoritative.

The room’s panoramic view of the city contrasts sharply with the turmoil I feel inside. He stands as I enter, extending a hand in greeting, which I avoided out of respect. His eyes, though warm, carry the weight of someone accustomed to making impactful decisions. He must be around in his late twenties.

“Ms. Aamiraj, it’s good to meet you. Please, take a seat.”

I sit down, my heart pounding as I prepare to lay out the reason for my visit. I take a deep breath, steadying my voice as I begin.

“Mr. Salem, thank you for meeting with me. My father was recently in a serious car accident. Unfortunately, his condition is critical, and despite our best efforts, no hospital is willing to take his case. We’ve exhausted every option we could think of, and I’ve come to you because yo-you.” I didn't even realised I was talking without taking a break.