Chapter 70 — The Faces Hidden Behind The Curtain
"What do you mean, Abbas?" Mr. Collins asked sharply.
The warmth that had existed inside the private lounge earlier was completely gone now.
Everyone felt it.
The shift.
The danger.
Mr. Collins slowly straightened in his seat, his eyes locked directly on Abbas Abdullah.
"Care to explain exactly what you mean by everything you've said?" he continued. "Who are these accomplices? What connection does Mustopha have to this? And who is the man in that photograph?" His voice hardened further. "Where did you even get that picture from?"
The room fell silent again.
Not ordinary silence.
The kind that made breathing feel loud.
Abbas did not answer immediately.
Instead, he looked toward Farouq first.
The boy still sat frozen beside his father, confusion written all over his face. Rihannat looked no better. Rayyan had unconsciously moved slightly closer to her while Folakemi stared at Abbas like she was trying to force answers out of him through sheer intensity alone.
Even Ridwan's usual calm expression had disappeared.
Because everybody understood one thing now—
Whatever Abbas was about to reveal…
Would change everything.
Slowly, Abbas exhaled.
Then he leaned back.
"The man in the picture," he said quietly, "is named Idris Vale."
The name meant nothing to most of them.
But not to everyone.
Mrs. Collins' face changed instantly.
Very slightly.
Yet enough for her husband to notice.
Mr. Collins turned sharply.
"You know him?"
Her lips parted faintly before closing again.
"…I know of him."
That answer alone deepened the tension.
Abbas nodded slowly, as though he had expected that reaction.
"Most powerful people know of him," Abbas continued calmly. "But very few have ever actually seen him."
"You are from the royal family in Europe so you will know him."
Faridat frowned immediately.
"Why are you talking about him like some ghost?"
"Because that man survives by remaining invisible," Abbas replied. "He rarely appears."
And for some reason—
That sentence unsettled the entire room.
Abbas reached for the brown envelope beside him again before pulling out another photograph.
This time, he placed it on the table carefully.
Everyone leaned forward instinctively.
The image showed a private gathering.
Elegant.
Luxurious.
Several influential men stood together holding glasses while speaking casually amongst themselves.
At first glance, it looked harmless.
Normal.
Until Abbas tapped one particular face.
Mustopha.
A visible tension immediately crossed the room.
But Abbas did not stop there.
His finger shifted.
To the man standing beside Mustopha.
Tall.
Sharp-featured.
Cold eyes.
The exact same man from the previous photograph.
Idris Vale.
"This picture was taken eight years ago," Abbas said. "At a private investors' gathering in Morocco."
Mr. Collins frowned deeply.
"How did you even obtain something like this?"
Abbas' expression darkened slightly.
"Because I've been investigating them for years."
That sentence landed heavily.
Years?
Even Mr. Abdullah looked shocked now.
"You never told me this," he muttered quietly.
"I couldn't.. I wasn't sure."
Abbas' voice remained calm, but there was exhaustion beneath it now. Old exhaustion. The kind built over years of carrying something dangerous alone.
"Because the deeper I looked into Idris Vale…" Abbas continued slowly, "the more bodies I found behind him."
Nobody interrupted.
Nobody dared.
"He finances illegal operations through legitimate businesses. Human trafficking routes. Political manipulations. Blackmail networks. Arms movements." Abbas' jaw tightened slightly. "Entire governments have failed to pin crimes directly on him because he never dirties his own hands."
Folakemi stared in disbelief.
"You're saying Mustopha works for someone like that?"
Abbas looked at her.
"No," he said quietly.
Then his expression turned colder.
"I'm saying Mustopha is one of his oldest partners."
The room exploded instantly.
"What?!"
"That's impossible!"
"You must be mistaken!"
Rihannat physically recoiled in horror while Farouq looked completely stunned.
But Abbas remained unmoving.
"Unfortunately," he said quietly, "I am not mistaken."
Mr. Collins stood up abruptly.
The movement startled nearly everyone.
"You better explain everything right now."
And this time—
Even he sounded unsettled.
Abbas rubbed slowly at his temple before speaking again.
"Years ago, Mustopha began building connections through financial organizations overseas. Most people believed he was simply expanding business influence internationally."
"Even he believed it was simply business until he became a Vale shareholder. He was exposed to the cruel and most gruesome world when Vale took interest in him. It was far more complicated to pull out."
"Vale saw Mustopha potentials... so he introduced him to his dark and shady businesses in disguise but Mustopha signed a confidential agreement before Vale did that."
"Mustopha tried to bail out after seeing the corrupted side of Vale but he's binded by the confidential agreement he signed. Vale won't let him go."
"And he wasn't?" Ridwan asked quietly.
Abbas looked at him carefully.
"No."
He slid another file across the table.
Documents.
Transfers.
Names.
Dates.
Transactions.
"Those businesses were fronts," Abbas said. "Money laundering routes connected to Vale's network."
The air inside the room suddenly felt suffocating.
Mrs. Collins sat down slowly now, her face noticeably pale.
Mr. Collins noticed immediately.
His eyes narrowed.
"You knew something," he said quietly.
She looked up sharply.
"I didn't know this much. I heard little things whenever I attended the royal gatherings in Europe."
"But you knew his name too Ola. The man they always called with initials - I.V. People were always cautious to mention his name."
"Mr Collins staggered, you mean the man they call I.V is...." then it clicked, I.V..., Idris Vale.
Silence.
And that silence alone answered enough.
Faridat blinked repeatedly.
"Wait…" she whispered slowly. "Are you saying all this time… people like that were around us?"
"Closer than you think,, he keeps a close watch on his subordinates. More than we can even imagine." Abbas answered.
Nobody liked the sound of that.
Nobody.
Rayyan finally spoke for the first time in several minutes.
"What exactly does this have to do with Rihannat?"
The question shifted the atmosphere instantly.
Because that—
That was the center of everything.
Abbas' expression changed again.
Darker this time.
"I started investigating Mustopha some years ago, but I stopped later on." It was a dead end. My belief was he's an innocent man until recently that I realised...."
sigh.
"We've known eachother since younger days. Although we became business partner few years back. We all know eachother from school back then."
"A university student disappeared some years ago. No traces. No body. Nothing."
Rihannat frowned faintly.
"…And?"
Abbas looked directly at her now.
"Three months before she vanished… she was seen publicly with Mustopha."
A strange chill moved across the room.
Mr. Collins folded his arms tightly.
"You think he killed her?"
"I think," Abbas replied carefully, "she discovered something she wasn't supposed to."
Nobody spoke.
Farouq swallowed hard.
Then Abbas reached into the envelope one final time.
And this time—
When he placed the last photograph on the table—
Mrs. Collins gasped.
Actually gasped.
Mr. Collins turned instantly toward the picture.
Then froze.
Because the girl standing in the photograph beside the missing university student—
Was unmistakable.
Younger.
But unmistakable.
Mrs. Collins.
The room descended into absolute silence.
And slowly…
Very slowly…
Everyone turned toward her.
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