Beau Monde ✅

Chapter 4

I held myself back from acting on impulse, and made sure to control my expression before I voiced out the words in my mind. "A problem?" I repeated, not surprised by how calm my tone came out.

Years of practice leads to that. Years.

And that practice and expertise wouldn't come crumbling because of words I get thrown at by that woman. If anything, I've expected it.

If it was anyone else with common sense, the person would've taken note of their mistake and say something else to steer the attention from what she really meant. But, this woman old enough to be my mother must've not been in the line when sense was distributed.

Because, her smirk widened, and she nodded. "Yes, a problem conceiving." She stated, with no hesitations. "Don't worry, darling. You aren't the first young lady to be barren. It's nothing to be ashamed of. You can't have all the things in life."

I said nothing for the next few seconds, and yet, I didn't move my cold gaze away from hers. I could feel Imran's hand tighten around mine slightly—already knowing what I'm going to do. It's time like this that he actually steps in, knowing my capabilities.

From the corner of my eyes, I saw him attempt to take a step in front of me and cut in before I react. However, he was a second too late.

Tightening my hold around his hand back, I beat him to it. My lips stretched into a smile slowly, and both she and I knew whatever would come past my lips will not be liked by her because I saw the way her resolve cracked slightly—anticipating the worst.

"Well, of course; it's nothing to be ashamed of. After all, you never had a child of yours too." Truth be told, I do not like exploiting people's life, nor exposing their weakness like that. But, at the same time, I have little control over myself when I'm crossed no matter who the person happens to be. "Correct me if I'm mistaken. That daughter of yours..." I feigned uncertainty, before taking a step closer to her. "...isn't she your husband's illegitimate child?"

Almost instantly, her eyes widened.

Pathetic.

She couldn't even hold up the act she'd been putting on for years. She just gave herself away because of a single statement.

I didn't stop, fully intending to shut her up for good. Clicking my tongue, my voice dropped so only the three of us could hear what I'm about to say. "—How do you think the press would react to finding that out? Your husband wants to contest for Governor, right? Having a child out of wedlock wouldn't do him any good, don't you think?"

Her hold around the champagne flute in her hand tightened, her lips pulled back. Her eyes were narrowed in slits, and I would be lying if I say I don't like the sight. Truth be told, riling people up is my favorite activity—especially when it comes to reciprocating the way I've been treated.

"Don't you dare, Nailah." She seemed to have found her voice. It's cute how she thinks the whole dropping her voice thing would work on me. I nearly laughed at the face she's holding up.

"Try me." I would not hesitate to expose him, and she knows that. What's the one reason the Zayed and Hadi family have been at the top for years?

We don't lose. No matter what.

If that means playing dirty, then so be it.

I grew up in such a world, and I am not afraid to take such measures when crossed.

She didn't say a word more. If anything, she simply shifted her glare from me, to Imran who's quietly standing beside me before huffing out a breath. Turning around on her heels, she was quick to storm away before any of her other secrets could be laid bare—and trust me, I know quite a lot.

With her gone, I blew out a small breath, my shoulders slumping slightly in the process. Looking around, I was slightly relieved to see no one noticed our small exchange. They all seemed to be too busy building relations, and strengthening their businesses.

A hand being placed on my shoulders had me looking up just in time Imran turned me around to face him. His eyes met mine, his expression blank. He didn't say a thing, just quietly observed my features. I don't know what he was looking for, but I guess he got it because he simply nodded to himself, and then looked away.

I didn't know what to think of that.

His silence is never a good thing. And no, I'm not scared for myself.

Before I could dwell on what might happen, the chatters around us increase tenfold—instantly gaining both our attentions. We both looked away just in time to see what the cause of the people's chatter is.

And behold, striding into the hall in all his glory is none other than the infamous Ayaan Fadel. I could swear that man's presence alone shook the entire hall. It was demanding, to the point that I doubt there's anyone who doesn't have his or her gaze on him. He seemed to know what kind of influence he has, because he strode in confident strides, almost as if he owns the place.

I pressed my lips together, a brow quirked slightly.

That wasn't it all—the person accompanying him was none other than the last person I wanted to see at this moment. The cause of numerous problems I have, Basma Wambai.

Kill me.