chapter8
637 Words
Then Yaqub asked with cautious calm:“Did she speak?”“Yes, sir. She had a conversation with the doctors a short while ago.”Yaqub’s voice remained quiet. “And what did she say? Who is she?”Fatih let out a deep sigh, confusion clear on his face as he replied:“Actually… almost nothing, sir.”Yaqub Al-Rashid’s brows knitted behind his massive desk, and his tone sharpened:“What do you mean ‘almost nothing’? Didn’t she tell you her name or who did this to her?”“The doctors who examined her a few minutes ago believe she is suffering from complete and total retrograde amnesia.”Silence fell over the line once again — a heavy, suspicious silence that pulsed with tension. Fatih continued in a serious, almost sympathetic tone:“The girl doesn’t know her name… or her family… or the slightest detail about how she ended up hiding, injured and bleeding, on the floor of your Bentley a few days ago. Her mind is a completely blank page.”There was no immediate reaction or comment from the other end. Yaqub listened coldly, as if absorbing the scale of this new complication that had invaded his meticulously ordered life.Fatih hesitated visibly, glancing left and right to ensure the corridor was empty, then added carefully:“Sir…”“What now, Fatih?”Fatih took a deep breath and decided to set emotions aside, speaking with the cautious logic of a security man who feared for the interests and influence of the Al-Rashid family.“Perhaps… it would be safer and wiser for us not to get any more involved in this mysterious matter.”He closed his eyes for a moment to gather his courage before continuing with advice for his boss:“We don’t know who this girl truly is… nor do we know who managed to breach our security and place her, covered in blood, inside your luxury car. Even the security cameras were completely wiped. We don’t know if she’s simply an innocent victim fleeing from hell… or part of a carefully orchestrated scheme and a dirty game by your enemies to drag your name into a criminal case.”Fatih paused briefly, waiting for any outburst or sign of anger from Yaqub. When none came, he continued with extreme caution, outlining his plan:“I will personally take care of her during her stay at the hospital, in complete secrecy, until she recovers and her wounds heal. After that… we can decide what to do with her and how to remove her from our lives without leaving any trace.”This time, the silence stretched unusually long. A full minute passed. Fatih even began to wonder if the call had dropped due to bad reception or if Yaqub had hung up in rejection.But Yaqub Al-Rashid’s voice finally came through — calm and low, unusually so. It was a terrifying, eerie kind of calm that unsettled Fatih far more than his usual anger:“Do what you see fit for now, Fatih.”“Yes, sir. I will execute the plan precisely.”“And inform me immediately — at any hour — the moment anything new happens or if she remembers even the smallest detail.”“Of course, sir. I won’t miss anything.”The call ended as Yaqub closed the line coldly.On the other end, Yaqub remained seated behind his luxurious wooden desk. He held his Cuban cigar, its smoke rising slowly and mingling with the faint daylight. His hawk-like eyes, sharp and filled with challenge, were fixed on the open file in front of him on the table.It was an empty file…The file of a girl with no name, no past to hold her accountable, and no trace at all.
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