Chapter 6: A Queen Among Peasants
The silence at the table wasn't just quiet; it was heavy, like a physical weight pressing down on the chests of everyone present. The clinking of forks had stopped. The laughter from the other tables at The Grand Grill seemed to fade into a distant hum, leaving only the two of them—Heer and Aslam—locked in a silent war of gazes.
Heer didn't blink. She held her glass of sparkling water with a grace that felt like a threat. Her eyes, dark and unreadable, searched Aslam's face for a crack, a flinch, or any sign of the "graveyard" the Fixer had described.
"So," Heer's voice finally cut through the air, smooth as silk. "I heard about your father. Is he okay? I heard he's been... unwell."
Every head at the table turned toward Aslam. Jack's mouth was slightly open, a piece of steak forgotten on his fork. Ben's eyes narrowed, his protective instincts flaring as he sensed the sudden shift in the atmosphere.
Aslam felt the cold sweat begin to prickle at the back of his neck. The "Fake Smile" was under the greatest pressure it had ever faced. If he showed fear, he lost the game. If he showed anger, he lost his job.
"Yes, Madam," Aslam replied, his voice steady, carrying a level of confidence that surprised even himself. He met her gaze head-on, refusing to look away. "He is much better now. Recovering well, thank you for asking."
Heer tilted her head slightly, a small, hummed "Hmm... good," escaping her lips.
For a few seconds, the silence returned, even more awkward than before. The staff looked at Heer, then at Aslam, then back at Heer. They were confused. Why did the "Ice Queen" of the company know about the health of a staff member's father? Why was she looking at him like he was the only person in the restaurant?
Suddenly, Heer broke the tension with a light, airy laugh that didn't reach her eyes.
"Why are you all so silent?" she asked, looking around the table at the frozen faces. "Enjoy the meal! Jack, why are you sitting like a statue? Eat, eat! This is a celebration, isn't it?"
Like a machine being restarted, the table erupted back into forced conversation. Jack started talking too loudly about production metrics and the others dove back into their food, but the air remained charged with electricity.
Aslam had just lifted his glass to his lips, desperate for a cool sip of water to soothe his dry throat. But the moment Heer's words—"I heard you are getting married"—hit the air, his composure shattered.
The water went down the wrong pipe. With a violent, uncontrolled cough, Aslam sprayed the entire mouthful of water directly onto Ben, who was sitting right next to him.
The table went silent again, but this time it was filled with shock. Ben sat there, blinking, his expensive shirt drenched and dripping. Every eye at the table was fixed on the mess.
"I am sorry! Ben, I am so sorry!" Aslam stammered, grabbing a silk napkin and frantically trying to dab at Ben's shoulder. His heart was hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird.
Across the table, Heer didn't look angry. Instead, a devilish smile played on her lips. She leaned back, enjoying the chaos she had created with a single sentence.
What are you trying to do, Madam? Aslam screamed internally, his eyes flashing with a spark of genuine anger that he couldn't quite hide. Why are you tearing my life apart in front of everyone?
"Aslam!" Jack's voice boomed, breaking through the confusion. "You haven't told us you're getting married! Since when? Who is she?"
Heer's voice cut through Jack's excitement like a cold blade. "Aww, Aslam," she said, her tone mockingly sweet. "You haven't told your colleagues about your marriage? That's not a very nice thing to do, keeping such a big secret."
"I... I was going to tell them, Madam," Aslam said, his voice dropping an octave. He tried to sound polite, but the anger was bubbling just beneath the surface.
"Well, tell us now!" Jack urged, clasping his hands together and leaning in. The rest of the staff followed suit, their faces full of curiosity. From the head of the table, Heer made a subtle gesture with her hand, a silent 'Go on, tell them' that felt like a command.
Aslam felt the walls closing in. "Ah... ah... she..."
"Yes, yes?" Jack prompted, grinning.
"She... she is my father's friend's daughter," Aslam finally blurted out, his brain racing to match the lie his father had told him on the phone. "Next month, when the holidays start, I will go to my hometown and... everything will be finalized then."
"Wonderful!" Jack shouted, slapping the table. "We'll all come! A village wedding sounds fantastic. We'll bring the whole production team!"
"WHY WOULD YOU COME?!" Aslam snapped.
The volume of his voice made everyone jump. Jack's grin froze. The other supervisors looked amazed at his sudden outburst. Realizing he had let the mask slip too far, Aslam forced the most painful fake smile of his life onto his face.
"I mean..." he said, his voice suddenly sugary sweet and dripping with fake concern. "My hometown is very far. It's a long, exhausting journey. If you all come, you'll just get tired. I wouldn't want to put you through that."
If you idiots come, I'll actually have to marry that girl just to keep the lie alive! Aslam thought, his mind spiraling into a panic.
"Nonsense!" Jack said in his loudest 'leader' voice. "We'll come, Aslam. No matter how far it is. We are your fans and your friends! We support our own!"
Heer's eyes glittered as she watched Aslam's desperation. "Yes, Aslam," she added, her voice a low, steady purr. "They are your friends. They will be there to see you take that step."
No matter if you want it or not, her eyes seemed to say.
The tension at the table was just beginning to settle into a steady hum of chewing and clinking glass when a loud, cheerful voice shattered it. "Hey! Aslam!"
Aslam stiffened. He knew that voice. He turned to see a young man approaching their table with a wide, oblivious grin. It was Parwaiz.
"Parwaiz?" Aslam asked, his voice tight. "You're here?"
"Yes! Our team is having a dinner tonight too, just across the hall," Parwaiz said, waving a hand vaguely toward the other side of the restaurant. He looked around the table, his eyes widening as he saw the senior staff and the Boss herself. "Hi, everyone! Hope the food is good!"
"Hi, Parwaiz," the staff echoed, some nodding with mouths full of steak.
Jack leaned over, his curiosity never staying silent for long. "Aslam, who is he? Another village friend?"
"He's my friend," Aslam said quickly, hoping Parwaiz would just move on.
Parwaiz let out a loud, mock-offended gasp. "Friend? Uh-uh, bro. We're bros, right? Like brothers!" He slapped Aslam on the shoulder, completely missing the daggers Aslam was staring at him.
"Yes... brooo," Aslam hissed through his teeth, his grip tightening on his napkin.
"Anyway, I have to get back to my team before they eat all the appetizers," Parwaiz laughed. "I'll meet you after the dinner, okay, Aslam? We have things to catch up on!"
"Okay," Aslam muttered, watching him walk away.
Upstairs, Heer's mind was moving faster than the city's fiber-optic cables. She watched Parwaiz's retreating back and then looked at Aslam's panicked expression. She didn't just see a friend; she saw the key to the box. Parwaiz was the one who would have all the answers the Fixer couldn't find. He was the one who would tell her the truth about Mehrina without even realizing he was doing it.
As the dinner wound down, the heavy, satisfied silence of a "top shelf" meal settled over the group. When the waiter finally approached with the leather folder containing the bill, the supervisors reached for their wallets, but Heer raised a sharp, manicured hand.
"I told you," she said smoothly. "It's my treat."
She reached into her designer clutch and pulled out a card. It wasn't the standard corporate gold card the staff expected to see. It was a unique, jet-black credit card—a titanium-grade card so rare that most people only saw it in movies. It carried no bank logo, only an etched silver crest.
The table went dead silent. Jack and Ben stared at the card as if it were a piece of alien technology. A card like that didn't just pay for dinner; it could buy the whole restaurant.
As the waiter took it with trembling fingers, Heer caught the look on Aslam's face. For a split second, her own composure slipped. She realized her mistake. She had spent the whole night trying to act like a "boss among her team," but that card shouted the truth: she was a queen among peasants.
By the time she realized she should have used the company card, it was too late.
Suddenly, Ben's voice cut through the silence, sharp and urgent. "Hey! Look! Isn't that our company on the TV?"
Every head at the table swung toward the large plasma screen hanging above the restaurant's bar. The news anchor's voice was muffled by the chatter, but the headline scrolling across the bottom in bold red letters was unmistakable:
"QUEENS GROUP INTERNATIONAL: MYSTERIOUS NEW CEO TO BE REVEALED."
"Wait, look!" Jack leaned in, his eyes wide. "They're showing a photo of the new leader!"
Aslam felt his heart stop. He looked at the TV, then at Heer, who was sitting perfectly still, her hand frozen on her glass of water.
The news anchor took a breath, and the screen transitioned.
"And here," the anchor's voice seemed to boom in the quiet restaurant, "is the first confirmed image of the person now holding the reins of the Queens empire—"
[End of Chapter 6]