Page 2 of Prince of Her Heart
Ramzi turned and looked out the window, looming over the smaller man.His words cut clean and deep.“That boy—because that’s what he is—hired his college drinking buddies.”He looked back at the older man who seemed to have aged in the past twenty minutes.“They’ve been drawing salaries and laughing behind your back.You know it.They do nothing but play golf and spend company money on bottle service and networking ‘retreats.’”
“No,” Mark breathed, shaking his head.But there was no fire left in his voice—only the hollow ache of truth settling in.
Ramzi saw the opening and drove it home.“You want to save Bondras?Then stop pretending.I’ve given you an offer that protects the core of your company.Your patents remain intact.Your name stays on the products.Your pension plan stays funded and your employees will be paid on time.The only thing I’m asking is for you to step aside and stop the bleeding before there’s nothing left to save.”
He paused, his voice softening a fraction—just enough to show he understood.“I know you want to leave something behind.I respect that.I know what it means to protect a legacy.”
He didn’t elaborate, but the shadow of his father, Sheik Amit el Sandir, crossed his mind.The Crown of Uftar wasn’t handed to the unworthy—and Ramzi had spent a lifetime proving he wasn’t soft.He didn’t flinch from hard decisions.He didn’t fold under pressure.And he would never let sentimentality dictate strategy.
“But legacies aren’t gifts, Mark,” he said quietly.“They’re built.Earned.Your grandson hasn’t earned his.”
Mark stared at the documents in front of him, his shoulders sagging under the weight of failure and fear.Ramzi could practically see the capitulation unfolding in his eyes—the final, reluctant surrender to reality.
“Yes,” Mark finally whispered.“The package is very good.”He took a shaky breath.“But how do I know you won’t fire everyone?”
“You don’t,” Ramzi replied flatly.“Once I take over Bondras, I’ll shift part of the operation to my country, most likely in the capital of Uftar.I will fire the dead weight.Anyone not actively contributing to the company’s advancement will be removed.”His voice held no emotion—just fact.
“There will still be a presence in Philadelphia,” Ramzi continued, calm and surgical.“Scientists will remain here.But they’ll report to and coordinate with a central research division in Uftar.That’s where the real innovation will happen.”His voice lowered slightly, more measured than kind.“You have some excellent products, Mark.The patents alone were worth the price I paid in shares.But your staff aren’t getting those products to the industries that need them.That’s failure, not loyalty.”
Mark nodded slowly, the weight of defeat sinking deep into his shoulders.His hazel eyes, once defiant, now looked hollow.He leaned back in his chair and, for the first time, looked every minute of his seventy-one years.
“Will you at least keep my grandson employed?”he asked quietly.
“Not a chance,” Ramzi said without hesitation.“He’s been passing information to Hestra behind your back.”
Mark blinked, stunned.Then he shook his head sharply, anger flaring.“You’re lying.Jeff would never—”
Ramzi didn’t argue.Marwan, Ramzi’s assistant, pulled a photo from the folder and slid it across the table.Jeff Bondras, grinning on a yacht, drink in hand, surrounded by five Hestra executives, looking as if he hadn’t a care in the world.
Mark stared at the image.He didn’t speak.Couldn’t.The fire in his eyes faded into something far older, something brittle.Grief and shame collapsed his defenses all at once.
Ramzi glanced at his watch.He’d given this meeting more time than necessary.The only justification was the small measure of respect he had for Mark—the man who had once built Bondras from nothing with grit and vision.But misplaced loyalty had blinded him.The people he'd trusted had used him, bled him dry, and handed the company to outsiders on a silver platter.
“Mark,” Ramzi said, voice quiet but firm as he leaned against the wall, “my offer is more than fair.You can sell me your shares and allow Bondras to expand into international markets—or I’ll sell my shares to Hestra.”He let that hang for a beat, then delivered the final blow.“But we both know private equity managers are the vultures of the business world.They strip the meat, auction off the bones, and leave nothing behind but debt and severance notices.”
Mark’s jaw tensed.
“My offer is good for the next thirty seconds,” Ramzi added.“After that, I leave and move on to my next meeting.”
He nodded once to Marwan, who immediately began gathering the documents with practiced precision.
Mark gasped and slapped a hand over the contract.“I’ll sign,” he whispered.
Ramzi didn’t move, didn’t blink.He simply watched as Mark picked up the pen and scrawled his name.The signature was shaky, but legible.The lawyer next to him immediately signed as witness.
Ramzi nodded, satisfied.“You made the right choice.”He stood, powerful and composed.Marwan swept everything into the folder and rose beside him.
“The funds will be in your account within the hour.”
Chapter 2
“Momma!”Tabitha Jones gasped, glancing up from her laptop.“What are you doing here?”
Tilda Jones bustled through the door into Tabitha’s bright, sun-drenched office, her floral dress fluttering slightly around her knees and her panty-hose-covered thighs swishing audibly as she moved.Her sensible shoes clicked on the hardwood floor, and the enormous faux-leather tote bag slung over her arm bounced against her hip with every step.
“I came to the city, dear,” she said, leaning in for a gentle, lavender-scented hug, “because I always celebrate your birthday with you.”
Tabitha pulled back, blinking.“Birthday?”she echoed, startled.Her gaze flicked toward the enormous bouquet of cream and blush roses that followed her mother into her office, carried by one of the lobby receptionists who smiled as she set the huge bouquet on the corner of her desk.Of course.Ramzi.He’d remembered even though she’d completely forgotten.Typical.
