Mark bristled, puffed up again.
“Who the hell are you?”he demanded, the pitch of his voice rising.Then he waved a dismissive hand in the air.“I don’t have a meeting with you, so get the hell out of my building!”
Jemma sighed.Evensheknew better than to poke the beast when he was in this kind of mood.
She took a step forward, ready to explain, to diffuse.
But Saif lifted a hand, stopping her with a simple gesture.
“I’m Saif Al-Sintra,” he said, his voice cool and edged with steel.“And you’re fired.”
There was a stunned beat of silence.
Then Mark laughed.
It was loud, obnoxious, and full of the same misplaced confidence he used in staff meetings.
“You can’t fire me!”he shouted, his voice echoing down the hall.A few heads were already peeking around cubicle walls.“Iownthis place!”
Saif moved closer, his expression calm—but there was that glint in his eye.That glint that made people shift uncomfortably in their shoes without knowing why.
“Actually, you sold your company to Overlock Corporation five years ago,” Saif said, voice low and deliberate.
Mark’s face didn’t even twitch.“So?”he scoffed.“The contract clearly states I remain in charge.”
Saif’s smile was slow.Knowing.
The kind of smile that made people sweat.
“Yes, Mark,” he said softly.“It states you’re allowed to run the company—as long as the company remains profitable.”
The words dropped like thunder.
Mark paled.
The crowd of employees gathering nearby tensed, breath held as if waiting for a verdict.
“This companyisprofitable,” Mark insisted, but even his voice faltered now.
“Sinstack Designs hasn’t shown a profit in three years,” Saif said, his voice harder now.“Overlock is preparing to sell it off.”
“No!”Mark choked, eyes wide as he glanced around, realizing just how many people were watching.“That can’t happen!”He turned to the onlookers.“Get back to work!”
No one moved.
Saif didn’t raise his voice, didn’t need to.
He simply turned his gaze to Jemma.
“What’s your analysis of the new line?”he asked, calmly and without looking at Mark again.
Jemma shrank back slightly from the confrontation, instinct kicking in from months of being steamrolled by louder voices and stronger egos.But then her gaze flicked to the faces around her.Her coworkers.People who had stayed late with her, fought against Mark’s bad decisions, worried about whether paychecks would clear.
If Mark stayed in charge, they’d all be out of jobs within the next six months.
Maybe sooner.
She straightened her spine.
