He wants it clear that this kind of corruption won’t be tolerated in business dealings involving Gulf investors. I checked my phone. Messages from Tariq, sent early this morning.
Good morning, beautiful. Can’t wait to see you tonight. Dinner at our place? I’ll cook.
My meeting got moved to a bigger venue. Big investors interested in our proposal. This could be huge for us.
I love you. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me. I showed the messages to my father.
He read them, his jaw tightening. Our proposal, he repeated. The audacity of this man.
He thinks he’s already won, I said. He thinks the hard part is over. That he’s successfully stolen our business plan and is about to present it as his own to Sheikh Abdullah’s investment group.
Pride before the fall, Patricia observed, looking up from her documents. Classic. My phone rang.
Tariq, don’t answer, my father advised. I have to. If I suddenly start avoiding him, he might get suspicious.
I swiped to accept. Good morning, Habibti. Did you get my messages? His voice was cheerful, excited.
I did. Congratulations on the bigger meeting. That’s wonderful news, I know.
This could be the breakthrough we’ve been waiting for. And I wanted to ask you something. What are you doing this afternoon around two? My pulse quickened.
Nothing planned? Why? I want you to come to the meeting. As my fiancé, these investors value family and I think having you there would make a good impression. You don’t have to say anything.
Just smile and look beautiful. Can you do that for me? I looked at my father, who was listening to the conversation on speaker. He nodded slowly.
Of course, I said. I’d be honored. Should I dress formally? Business formal? Yes.
Conservative. Remember, these are traditional Middle Eastern investors. Modest is best.
I understand. Text me the address. I’ll pick you up at one thirty.
Love you. Love you, too, I said, the words tasting like ash in my mouth. After I hung up, Patricia was smiling.
He wants you there. Perfect. He’s going to incriminate himself in front of you.
He thinks I’m a prop, I said, something to display to prove he’s a respectable family man. He has no idea what he’s walking into. The rest of the morning passed in a blur of preparation.
Patricia briefed me on the legal implications of what we were doing, making sure every action we took was completely above board. James confirmed that Sheikh Abdullah’s security team had everything in place. My father made calls to keyboard members, ensuring everyone understood what was happening and why.
At noon, I went home to change. I selected a navy blue suit, tailored and conservative with a cream silk blouse, professional, modest, exactly what Tariq had requested. I added the pearl necklace he’d given me for our six month anniversary, the one modified with surveillance technology and matching earrings that James’s team had also equipped with recording devices, insurance in case something went wrong with the Sheikh’s recording equipment.
At 1.30 exactly, Tariq’s silver BMW pulled up outside my building. I took one last look in the mirror, checking my appearance. The woman looking back at me was calm, professional, perfectly composed.
Inside, I was a storm. I slid into the passenger seat and Tariq leaned over to kiss me. You look perfect.
Exactly right. Thank you. I’m excited to see you in action.
I’ve never been to one of your business meetings before. Just remember, these men are very traditional. If they speak to you, be polite, but brief.
Let me do the talking. And please, don’t mention your work. They prefer women who are more focused on family.
I understand, I said, playing my role. I’m just there to support you. Exactly.
He pulled into traffic, one hand on the wheel, the other finding mine. I’m so glad you’re here for this, Sophie. Today is the beginning of something big.
Our future together starts now. If only he knew how right he was. We drove to a luxury hotel in downtown Boston, one known for hosting high-level international business meetings.
Tariq pulled up to the valet and a doorman immediately opened my door. Inside, the lobby was all marble and crystal, hushed and elegant. The meeting is in the executive conference suite, Tariq said, guiding me toward a private elevator.
Top floor. These investors rented out the entire level for privacy. In the elevator, he checked his appearance in the mirrored walls, adjusting his tie.
I’ve been working on this deal for months. If today goes well, Alman Sur Holdings will be positioned to dominate the Middle Eastern consulting market. Blackstone is providing the initial capital, but once we have the clients, we’ll be unstoppable.
The clients? I asked innocently. Companies currently working with other consulting firms. We’re going to offer them better terms, more specialized knowledge of the region, stronger connections.
We’ll take market share from competitors who’ve gotten complacent. That sounds very competitive. Business is competitive, Habibti.
The strong survive. The weak get crushed. He smiled at his reflection.
We’re going to be very strong. The elevator doors opened onto a quiet hallway, plush carpet muffling our footsteps. A man in a dark suit, clearly security, stood outside a set of double doors.
Mr. Alman Sur, he said with a slight nod. They’re waiting for you, Tariq squeezed my hand. Ready? I smiled at him.
Ready. He opened the doors and we stepped into the conference room. It was larger than I expected, with a long table that could seat 20 people.
But only four people were currently present, all standing near the far end of the room. Sheikh Abdullah Al Thani stood at the head of the table, impressive in traditional white thobe and black bisht. Next to him were two men I recognized from photos, ministry officials from Qatar’s Department of Commerce.
And standing slightly apart, arms crossed, was my father. Tariq froze. I felt his hand tighten painfully on mine.
Mr. Alman Sur, Sheikh Abdullah said in English, his voice carrying the weight of authority. Thank you for coming. I believe you know Mr. Daniel Martinez already.
And of course you know his daughter, your fiancée. Tariq’s face had gone white. He looked from my father to me, confusion and dawning horror in his eyes.
I don’t understand, he said. This meeting was supposed to be… Supposed to be an opportunity for you to present stolen business strategies as your own? Sheikh Abdullah cut him off, his voice cold. Supposed to be your chance to profit from corporate espionage? Please, Mr. Alman Sur, tell us what this meeting was supposed to be.
Sophie? Tariq turned to me, his voice shaking. What’s going on? Why is your father here? I pulled my hand from his grip and took a step back. When I spoke, it was in flawless Arabic, the formal dialect used in serious business dealings.
You wanted to know what this meeting is about, Tariq? It’s about exposure. It’s about justice. It’s about what happens when you underestimate the people you’re trying to cheat.
His face went from white to gray. His mouth opened, but no sound came out. You seem surprised that I speak Arabic.
I continued in his language, watching him process this revelation. Did you really think I spent eight years in Dubai and didn’t learn? Did you think I was so incompetent that I couldn’t master the language of the business I was conducting? You… you never said… you never asked. You assumed.
You assumed I was ignorant, that I was stupid, that I was a means to an end. I switched back to English, including the others in the conversation. You assumed wrong, Sheikh Abdullah gestured to the chairs.
Please sit. We have much to discuss, and I want everything documented properly. One of the ministry officials activated a recording device on the table.
Tariq remained standing, frozen in shock. Sit down, Mr. Al-Mansur, my father said quietly, or we can have this conversation at the police station instead. Your choice.
Tariq finally moved, sinking into a chair. I remained standing, walking to my father’s side of the table. Sheikh Abdullah opened a folder.
Mr. Al-Mansur, we are here because you attempted to defraud multiple parties through corporate espionage and misrepresentation. You cultivated a relationship with Ms. Martinez with the explicit intention of stealing confidential business information from her father’s company. You conspired with a senior employee of Martinez Global Consulting to obtain proprietary strategies and client lists.
And you plan to present this stolen information today as your own work in the hopes of securing investment from my group. I can explain. You will explain, the Sheikh cut him off.
But first, you will listen. I have known Daniel Martinez for 15 years. We have conducted business worth hundreds of millions of dollars, built on trust and mutual respect.
When he came to me with evidence of your scheme, I was personally offended. Not just on his behalf, but on behalf of every legitimate business person in the Gulf who works hard to maintain our reputation for fair dealing. He pulled out documents, spreading them across the table.
These are transcripts of your conversations with Richard Torres, Martinez Global’s former senior VP. Mr. Torres has confessed to everything and provided detailed testimony about your arrangement. These are bank records showing payments from your family’s holding company to Mr. Torres.
These are emails discussing how to use your engagement to Ms. Martinez to access confidential information. Tariq stared at the documents, his face a mask of disbelief. And these, Sheikh Abdullah continued, pulling out more papers, are transcripts of your family dinners.
Every word you and your family said in Arabic, mocking Ms. Martinez, discussing how to exploit her and her father’s company. Did you know she understood every word? Tariq looked at me, and in his eyes, I saw the moment everything clicked into place. Every dinner, every conversation, every casual cruelty spoken in Arabic while I sat there smiling.
He’d been exposing himself all along. The wedding is canceled, I said simply. Obviously.
Sophie, please let me explain. He started to stand. Sit down, my father commanded.
You’ll speak when Sheikh Abdullah tells you to speak. One of the ministry officials spoke for the first time. His English formal and precise.
Mr. Almanzor, you should understand the gravity of your situation. Corporate espionage between entities involving Gulf state investments is taken very seriously by our government. The evidence here suggests multiple violations of international business law.
Beyond the legal issues, Sheikh Abdullah added. There is the matter of your reputation. In our business community, word travels fast.
By this time tomorrow, every major investor and company in the Gulf will know what you attempted to do. Your family’s business relationships built over generations will be destroyed. Tariq found his voice finally, desperate.
Sheikh Abdullah, please. My family had nothing to do with this. This was my mistake alone.
Don’t punish them for my errors and judgment. Your family mocked this woman in their home. The Sheikh said coldly, your mother, your father, your siblings, all of them participated in this disrespect.
They knew what you were doing and encouraged it. I heard the recordings myself. The cruelty, the calculated manipulation.
