Chapter 4: The Vulture's Confession

Chapter 4: The Vulture's Confession

The summons to Mr. Thorne’s penthouse came as a delightful shock. Fahad straightened his ill-fitting driver's uniform, puffing out his chest as he rode the private elevator. Its silent, swift ascent was a taste of the power he craved. He had seen the whispers this morning, the nervous glances from the other staff. He knew the Filipino girl, Elara, had been arrested. News traveled fast in the staff accommodations, a current of fear and gossip. He felt a profound, almost holy satisfaction. The lesson had been delivered. Justice, his justice, had been served.

Clearly, the great Mr. Thorne had seen it too. This summons wasn't a punishment; it was a recognition of his loyalty, of his moral fortitude. He was the one who had taken action to protect the company's honor when others were too weak. He was being called to the throne room to be rewarded. He ran a hand over his patchy beard, a self-satisfied smirk playing on his lips.

The elevator doors opened onto the vast, sunlit expanse of the office. The sheer scale of it was designed to intimidate, with its panoramic view of the glittering city and its minimalist, brutally expensive furniture. But today, Fahad felt he belonged.

Alex Thorne was not behind his desk. He was standing near a polished bar, pouring two glasses of sparkling water. He turned, his expression unreadable, and gestured towards the same charcoal-grey sofa where Elara had wept just hours before. The irony was lost on Fahad.

"Fahad. Thank you for coming on such short notice," Alex said, his voice a smooth, neutral baritone. He handed a glass to Fahad, a gesture of hospitality that immediately put the driver at ease.

"It is my honor, sir. Always ready to serve," Fahad replied, his tone dripping with practiced piety. He sat on the edge of the sofa, holding the crystal glass as if it were a holy relic.

Alex took the armchair opposite him, mirroring the setup he had used with Elara, but this time the dynamic was entirely different. He was no longer a protector; he was a hunter, and the bait was laid.

"I've called you here to discuss a delicate matter," Alex began, swirling the water in his glass. "It concerns company integrity. The moral fabric of our organization."

Fahad leaned forward, his eyes gleaming. This was it. "Yes, sir. It is a very important thing. In these modern times, many have forgotten the old ways, the proper ways."

"Precisely," Alex agreed, his gaze steady and intense. "Last night, one of our employees, Elara, was arrested. It was a messy, unfortunate business. An embarrassment."

Fahad nodded sagely. "A great shame, sir. A great shame to your name. Some of these young women… they have no modesty. They invite trouble."

Alex gave a slight, almost imperceptible nod, a flicker of encouragement. "The police acted on an anonymous tip. A tip from a citizen concerned about the moral decline he was witnessing. A man who felt it was his duty to act."

The praise, indirect as it was, landed like a drug in Fahad’s system. His chest swelled with pride. He could no longer contain his role in this righteous act.

"A man must do what is right in the eyes of God, sir," Fahad declared, puffing out his chest. "When a man sees a rot, he must cut it out, for the good of the whole tree."

"So it was you," Alex stated, not as a question, but as a confirmation. His voice was calm, almost appreciative. "You made the call."

Fahad's face split into a triumphant grin. The great Mr. Thorne was not angry; he was impressed. "I did, sir. For you. For the company. I could not stand by while that… that troublemaker woman brought disgrace upon us all. She needed to be taught a lesson in humility and respect."

He used the exact phrase Kasim had reported. Alex’s expression didn't change, but a glacial coldness began to seep into his eyes. The trap had been sprung. Now, it was time to tighten the wire.

"Your loyalty is… noted, Fahad," Alex said, choosing his words with surgical precision. "But I confess, I am curious. Your concern for her moral character seems unusually strong. Is there a reason for your particular interest in this one employee?"

Fahad’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second. A flicker of caution entered his eyes. "She is a bad influence, sir. She does not conduct herself with the proper modesty. I have observed her."

"Observed her?" Alex echoed, his voice dropping subtly, losing its warmth. "You mean, at work? During your duties?"

"Yes, and… and around the accommodation. I try to offer guidance, as a senior employee, a man of faith. I try to help these girls walk the righteous path."

"Ah, yes. The guidance," Alex said, leaning forward. The air in the room grew heavy, the temperature seeming to drop several degrees. "I understand you offered her your 'guidance' in the parking garage a few weeks ago."

Panic flared in Fahad’s eyes. The blood drained from his face. The hunter had just revealed his teeth. "Sir? I… I do not understand. We were merely talking about her schedule."

"My understanding is that you did more than talk," Alex countered, his voice now a blade of ice. "My understanding is that you assaulted her. That you have been harassing her ever since. That this call to the police was not an act of moral duty, but a pathetic, vindictive act of revenge because she refused you."

"No! It is a lie!" Fahad sputtered, jumping to his feet and sloshing water onto the priceless rug. His pious mask was shattering, revealing the snarling, insecure predator beneath. "She is the liar! She is the sinner! She tempted me, and when I corrected her, she made these stories! She is trying to ruin me because I am a good, God-fearing man!"

He was cornered, thrashing wildly, incriminating himself with every word. Alex remained seated, the picture of deadly calm.

"So you deny it?" Alex asked, his voice lethally quiet. "You deny ever touching her? You deny harassing her for weeks?"

Fahad's mind raced, desperately seeking a path out of the closing trap. He couldn't deny everything—what if there was a witness? What if the girl had proof? He had to minimize. He had to make it sound like a small, one-time misunderstanding, a minor transgression by a tempting woman that a pious man had immediately regretted. It was the best lie he could conjure.

He clasped his hands together as if in prayer, his face a mask of false remorse. "Sir, please, you must understand! These women, they can be confusing. It was a moment of weakness, a simple mistake that was over in a second. I swear to you, on my wife and my children..."

He took a desperate breath and made his fatal mistake.

"I only tried once, sir."

The words hung in the air, thick and heavy and damning.

I only tried once.

Not "It never happened." Not "She is lying." An admission. A confession, wrapped in a pathetic attempt at mitigation.

The silence that followed was absolute. The hum of the city beyond the glass seemed to fall away. In that moment, the only sound was the frantic pounding of Fahad’s own heart as the full, catastrophic weight of his words crashed down upon him. He stared at Alex Thorne, his jaw slack, his eyes wide with the dawning horror of a man who has just signed his own death warrant.

Alex’s face was completely devoid of emotion. He simply looked at Fahad, the vulture who had so proudly confessed to his crime, and let the confession suffocate him in the sterile, silent air of the penthouse. His fate was sealed.