A strange, heavy wind blew as darkness blanketed the sky. The entire estate fell completely silent, save for the distant crying of birds and the frantic swaying of trees under the sudden change in weather. Before anyone could react, the sky opened up, and rain began to pour down in torrential sheets. Instantly, everyone who had a window open slammed it shut. Amidst the downpour, a fair-skinned, remarkably beautiful young boy stepped outside, tightly holding a walking cane. It was clear that he was blind. Despite the heavy rain beating down violently, he seemed entirely unfazed, walking steadily until he arrived right in front of the door leading to his uncle's wing. Suddenly, the boy unleashed a piercing, agonizing shriek that echoed deeply through the entire estate. He fell, and blood began to ooze and spread rapidly on the ground. Despite his horrifying scream, not a single soul emerged from their apartments. Even if it hadn't been raining, this was the deeply rooted culture of this family—no one minded anyone else’s business, living completely detached lives as if they didn't share the exact same bloodline. It was a bizarre, tragic, and terrifying reality, inherited directly from their parents, who had fostered extreme division. In this family, an uncle dared not correct or discipline his brother's children; everyone lived strictly for themselves. To make matters worse, they were cursed with a tyrannical matriarch—a grandmother who lived only for worldly pleasures, power, and absolute control. Descending from a royal lineage, she was the mother of wealthy tycoons, and anyone who earned her hatred was automatically doomed to a life of misery. The main protagonist had never known his mother; he had been raised exclusively by his father from birth. This strange upbringing stemmed from the deeply shrouded, chaotic circumstances surrounding his birth within the NADER family line. The NADER household was built on dark, hidden secrets and dense complexities; unraveling them was a dangerous game that could cost many people their very lives. Whatever the truth may be, follow me closely as the story unfolds. The heavy downpour eventually subsided, leaving only a light, lingering drizzle in the air. A sleek, pitch-black Mercedes-Benz with heavily tinted windows glided into the compound. The tint was so dark that it was impossible to discern who was inside. The car parked smoothly right in front of its owner's private wing, as he had only returned to retrieve some important documents. The driver's door opened, and a pair of flawless, fair-skinned feet, clad in expensive black alligator-leather half-shoes, stepped out. One look at the footwear confirmed that a fortune had been spent on it. He wore a crisp, white, and exceptionally luxurious Filtox Shadda fabric that draped elegantly over his frame. He exuded an intensely rich, captivating fragrance, looking as though he had been literally bathed in premium perfume. It was impossible to tear your eyes away from him due to his striking, flawless looks. He possessed fair skin, intensely captivating, sexy eyes covered by a pair of sophisticated prescription glasses that heightened his charm, and a thick, glistening, perfectly groomed beard. He walked with the powerful, commanding stride of a wild buffalo or a lion. He truly embodied his names: the King of Lions and the King of Journalists. Any journalist worth their salt in Nigeria closely followed his footsteps. Suddenly, he froze in his tracks as his heart rate spiked violently. "Sultan!" the name escaped his lips, his voice trembling with sheer horror. He pulled out his phone, his hands shaking as he dialed a number. The call was answered on the very first ring. Trying desperately to stabilize his breathing, he barked into the receiver: "Hello, Commissioner? Get down to our house immediately with a full security detail and a team of officers. A murder has just been committed." Before the commissioner could respond, he slammed the phone down. At that exact moment, Abbey (his father) emerged from his wing, looking clearly unsettled, indicating he hadn't gone to work that day. With a trembling voice, he called out: "TAREER! (TAREEK)" Tareek didn't turn around. His heart hardened further, and his face flushed a deep, furious red, signaling that he had finally been pushed to his absolute limit. It was incredibly difficult to read the expressions on his handsome, reserved face; he was a master at concealing his internal turmoil, possessing a rare, supernatural level of patience and endurance. Since his childhood, the turbulent waves of life had tossed him around in a dark, endless ocean. By the time Abbey rushed over to where he stood, he gasped in horror, finding Sultan lying flat on the ground, completely lifeless. Abbey turned to Tareek, his eyes wide with panic. "Who... who killed him?" Tareek remained dead silent, merely lifting his foot slightly to signal that he, too, had no idea. Knowing Tareek's rigid, unyielding nature, Abbey didn't press further and immediately began frantically calling the other members of the family. Within minutes, a massive crowd of relatives gathered around the body. They lifted the corpse and carried it up to Sultan’s private floor, as it was the closest wing. The floor was a testament to extreme, unimaginable wealth; a massive, elegant portrait hung near the dining room area, depicting Tareek and Sultan locked in a warm embrace, laughing together. Looking at the cheerful face in the portrait, any outsider would double-check if this was the same cold, unyielding Tareek standing before them today—he was a literal chameleon, capable of shifting his demeanor entirely depending on his environment. His entire floor was decorated in an immaculate, high-end theme of white and gold. Just then, Sitti (the grandmother) swept into the room in a display of absolute royalty and grandeur. She was draped in an incredibly expensive Swiss lace fabric, radiating a powerful, elite fragrance. Looking at her youthfulness and glowing skin, no one would ever believe she was the biological mother of these giant, powerful tycoons: ABDULKARIM, ABDULNUR, ABDALLAH, and NASIR. Safna followed closely behind her, dressed in a trendy, sleeveless tank top paired with three-quarter trousers. Her hair was styled into a long, immaculate ponytail using premium horsehair extensions that cascaded down past her waist. She wore dark purple lipstick and exceptionally long, dramatic eyelashes. Rocking a pair of high-end stiletto heels that made a sharp, echoing clack-clack sound against the luxury tiles, she walked right past the corpse without a shred of emotion. Sitti climbed onto a luxury royal sofa, elegantly crossing one leg over the other, swaying her foot with an air of absolute indifference. Moments later, the security jami'an tsaro arrived alongside a medical examiner, who immediately began conducting a preliminary forensic investigation on the corpse. Suddenly, Aunt Ayesha rushed into the room, panting heavily. The moment she saw her son covered in blood, she threw herself onto the corpse, wailing hysterically. It was the heartbreaking sight of a devastated mother; her screams were so filled with raw agony that any human with a soul would deeply pity her. Tareek quietly stepped back, removing himself from the hysterical crowd of relatives. His eyes turned bloodshot, and he tightly clenched his fists against his chest, fixing his piercing gaze on the corpse without blinking for a single second. He was intensely scanning the scene, determined to uncover the monster behind this murder. The security details eventually packaged the body to transport it to the hospital for a rigorous forensic autopsy, knowing that a thorough investigation was paramount. The killer was clearly a professional master of malice; they had executed the crime flawlessly, leaving absolutely no evidence or clues behind. As the body was wheeled out, Aunt Sakina and the other women sank onto the floor, observing Tareek closely, each harboring their own hidden thoughts. Sensing their intense gaze, Tareek cleared his throat loudly, causing everyone to turn toward him in fear. The only exception was Safna, who was completely unfazed, casually snapping pictures of the scene to shock her media followers and fans on social media. With an air of supreme authority, Tareek stepped toward them and commanded coldly: "Clear out. I am locking down my wing." Sitti’s eyes flashed with anger. Standing up with immense pride, she snarled, using his full name: "MUHAMMAD! Are you seriously throwing us out of your apartment?" Tareek didn't even blink. He had long since ceased to fear this wicked, scheming old woman. Aunt Ameena, whose hot temper always got the better of her, quickly chimed in to support Sitti: "Sitti, just ignore him! He’s clearly projecting his anger onto us. Look at him! Ever since we walked in here, he’s been acting like the king of kings, puffing his chest out. We’ve known the true origins of this vulture since it migrated from Egypt, so don't you dare—" Before she could finish her sentence, Tareek unleashed a thunderous, ferocious roar that shook the room: "I SAID GET OUT!" Seeing him transform into a terrifying, ferocious lion, the relatives immediately scrambled to their feet and fled the wing in terror. Tareek picked up his documents and stormed out of the house.
Episode 6
"Sitti, I swear to God, I want nothing but the Lion (Tareek)," Safna declared, pouting. Sitti picked up a crystal glass filled with freshly pressed apple juice, taking a elegant sip while observing her granddaughter. The entire family looked at Safna as though she had a severe mental illness. After all, wanting a man like Tareek was pure madness. His heart was completely hardened and scarred, he was constantly living on the edge of death, and he was entirely incapable of love. Sitti gently placed her glass down on the glass center table in front of her. "Safna, you are clearly out of your mind. What on earth is there to love about Tareek? Granted, he has devastatingly good looks, but you know very well he is a child of sin—and such children always possess unmatched physical beauty paired with a cold, godless heart." Sitti leaned back comfortably against her armchair, a dark, calculating smile spreading across her face. "However... if you tell me you are only after his vast wealth because he is a multi-billionaire, then I am fully on board. In fact, I have been looking for a direct pathway to seize his entire empire myself." She let out a sharp, chilling laugh. "You, my dear, will be my perfect stepping stone. I know you are capable of doing whatever it takes. Now, the real game begins." Safna stared at her grandmother, completely lost and unable to comprehend the depth of her words. Just as she opened her mouth to speak, Sitti stood up abruptly, cutting her off. "It is not yet time for you to understand the details." Realizing the conversation was over, Safna stood up and walked out, heading directly toward the young men's wing of the estate. The corridor was completely deserted. She looked around stealthily before quietly slipping into one of the private rooms. Since she possessed a spare key to the wing, she locked the door behind her. She walked over to the bed, where Salim lay fast asleep, buried deep beneath a thick blanket, entirely oblivious to the chaos that had transpired in the estate. Safna climbed onto the bed, pulling the blanket off his body. He was completely naked, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers. Without hesitation, she slipped her hand deep into his boxers. Feeling the sudden, intimate touch, Salim jolted awake. A wicked smile spread across his face, and Safna returned the look with equal mischief. He pulled her tightly into his arms, hauling her shirt up to expose her chest, and began aggressively nursing and pulling at her nipples. In the heat of the moment, Safna gasped, "Salim... you have no idea. Sultan was murdered today." Salim didn't even pause, displaying complete and utter indifference. "Who cares? One less bastard to worry about," he muttered carelessly, burying his face back in her chest.
PALESTINE: THE CITY OF GAZA
A fierce, sweeping wind blew across the Gaza Strip. Despite the political turmoil, the atmosphere possessed a unique, beautiful serenity due to its close proximity to the Mediterranean coast. Suddenly, a deafening, catastrophic explosion tore through the air, followed immediately by the frantic, terrified screams of thousands of citizens. Concrete buildings began collapsing like a house of cards, burying people under heavy rubble as others fled for their lives. Amidst the falling debris, a desperate father used the last of his strength to throw his young daughter out of a collapsing building into the open street. The little girl shrieked in terror, weeping and pounding against the debris, screaming: "Abbu! Abbu!" (Father! Father!) The father simply shook his head, offering her a calm, beautiful smile as he raised his hand in a final farewell. The exit was completely blocked, and the towering concrete structure was on the verge of crushing him completely. The little girl turned to run back into the building to save him, but bystanders quickly grabbed her, holding her back. In that exact moment, she heard her father’s very last words—loudly and clearly reciting the Shahada (declaration of faith) before the building collapsed with a thunderous roar, burying him alive. The little girl collapsed onto the asphalt, weeping bitterly as rescue workers and medics rushed to the scene.
A Brief Overview of Palestine and Israel:
Languages: Arabic is the official language of the Palestinian people, while Hebrew is spoken by the Israeli population.
The Gaza Strip: A narrow territory measuring roughly 41 kilometers (25 miles) in length and 10 kilometers (4 to 8 miles) in width, bordered by Israel to the north and east, Egypt to the southwest, and the Mediterranean Sea to the west.
Population: Gaza is home to approximately 2.3 million citizens, making it one of the most densely populated territories on Earth.
Governance: The Gaza Strip is currently under the administrative governance of the Hamas movement.
Historical Context: The West Bank, the Gaza Strip, and East Jerusalem—collectively recognized as the Palestinian territories—alongside Israel, have historically formed the region known as Palestine since the Roman era. These lands also encompass the ancient biblical Jewish kingdoms, which the Jewish people revere as their ancestral homeland. Israel officially declared statehood in 1948, though nations and individuals who do not recognize its sovereignty continue to refer to the entire region as Palestine.
In the war-torn Gaza Strip, peace was entirely non-existent. At any given moment, Israeli military forces could launch a devastating strike. Citizens sat outside the ruins of their homes—many severely injured, others completely displaced. Rescue workers frantically pulled lifeless bodies from beneath the heavy concrete slabs. Suddenly, a heartbreaking shriek echoed through the air. A young Palestinian girl, barely ten years old, broke away from the volunteers holding her and ran toward the row of deceased bodies laid out on the pavement. Anyone who looked at her was moved to tears. Though the citizens had grown somewhat numb to the daily killings and the complete lack of international aid, the raw agony of losing one's family never faded. To make matters worse, severe famine was ravaging the population. The young girl collapsed over the lifeless bodies, recognizing her entire family, including her father. Tears streamed down her face as she shook violently, completely traumatized and disoriented. A kind woman rushed over and pulled her into a tight embrace, but the girl fought back frantically, breaking free from the woman's grip. She threw herself back onto her father's corpse, weeping uncontrollably. With great difficulty, the volunteers eventually managed to separate her from the body. There was no time or resources for traditional funeral baths; the bodies were quickly sprinkled with water and transported to their final resting places.
KANO, NIGERIA
Tareek honked his horn, and the security guard at the prominent radio station quickly swung the gates open. The facility was stunningly modern and beautifully designed, mirroring the elite infrastructure of the Al-Jazeera television network. Tareek navigated into the VIP parking lot, parked his luxury vehicle, and stepped out. He walked directly toward the main reception area. The moment he entered, a high-class lady immediately stood up from the silver lounge chairs reserved for executive guests. She was dressed in an expensive, green English Atamfa fabric adorned with deep maroon embroidery, tailored into a tight straight skirt and a matching boubou. She wore a dark maroon veil and a pair of oversized designer sunglasses that obscured half of her face. Just then, Tareek's phone began to ring. Seeing an unfamiliar number on the screen, he ignored it completely. Standing nearby, a beautiful female receptionist who was typing away on her laptop let out a subtle, flirtatious sigh and greeted him warmly: "Welcome back, King." Without sparing her a glance, Tareek barely moved his lips, responding in a low, detached murmur: "Thank you." As he began walking past the reception desk, the elite lady who had been waiting for him quickly stepped forward, calling out his name: "Tareek!" Surprised, Tareek stopped and turned around, fixing his large, piercing eyes on her. The young lady quickly lowered her gaze, thoroughly intimidated and captivated by his intense, commanding aura. Stammering nervously, she managed to say, "My... my name is Lubna Nazeer. I am one of your biggest admirers. I am deeply in love with you and your broadcasting programs." Tareek's stern expression softened slightly. "Thanks," he replied simply, turning to continue on his way. Lubna’s heart pounded wildly. Seeing that she was about to lose her chance with the man of her dreams, she quickly blurted out, "Please, King! Could I please get your phone number? And... please, could we take a picture together?" Tareek froze in his tracks. He turned around, gently biting his lower lip. He despised humiliating or disrespecting ordinary people, so he offered a polite compromise: "We can take a picture, but I strictly do not give out my personal number." Overjoyed, Lubna beamed. "Thank you so much!" She quickly pulled out her iPhone 7+ and snapped a couple of pictures with him. A rare, handsome smile graced Tareek’s face for the camera. After thanking him profusely, Tareek gave a polite nod and turned to leave. Just then, his colleague Jamil walked up, grinning broadly. "The King of Lions!" he boomed, extending his hand for a warm, friendly handshake. As Lubna walked away, Jamil watched her go, teasing Tareek playfully. "Wow, that is a seriously high-class lady. I swear, man, God has blessed you with immense popularity and charm. I always see Surayyah gatekeeping and chasing women away from you; no wonder you took so long to come inside! You were out here collecting flowers while we’ve been waiting for you in the studio. The program’s airtime is already running late!" Tareek merely offered a faint smile, remaining quiet as usual. He turned the handle to the live broadcasting studio, and they stepped inside. The entire production crew was seated, waiting exclusively for him. Tareek took his seat, pulled his professional headphones 🎧 over his ears, and adjusted the microphone. In his deep, rich, and intensely commanding radio voice, he began the live broadcast: "Assalamu Alaikum, dear listeners. Welcome back to another live episode of 'Review of the Dailies'. Today, we have a very special guest in the studio—the chief political correspondent for the daily 'Jasab Daily Trust' newspaper. I am your host, Muhammad TAREEK NADER. Let us dive straight into the headlines, as time is already far spent." "Inna! Inna!" Lubna shouted excitedly as she burst through the front door of her family home. The elderly matriarch lifted her head from her seat, staring at her granddaughter in bewilderment. "Lubna, are you completely out of your mind? You didn't even say the Islamic greeting, you just came bursting into this house like a wild animal!" Lubna sat down beside her, quickly removing her veil. She opened her handbag, pulled out her phone, and gushed, "Inna, look! This is Tareek—the very man you listen to on the radio every single day! By the grace of Allah, I met him at the radio station today, and we took a picture together!" Before her grandmother could respond, Lubna quickly reached over and turned up the volume of the radio 📻 sitting on the table, eager to listen to the live debate between the young star journalist and the correspondent from the Jasab newspaper. Seeing that her grandmother was still staring at her blankly, Lubna held the phone closer. "Inna, look closely! It’s me and him in the photo!" Inna took the phone, squinting at the screen before smiling warmly. "Masha Allah, Lubna. He is an exceptionally handsome and dignified young man." Lubna smiled dreamily. "Please, Inna, you must pray for me. Pray that Allah blesses me to become his wife." Inna’s expression instantly hardened into a scowl. She handed the phone back aggressively. "Take your phone, you shameless modern children! You have absolutely no modesty left in you. I will absolutely not make such a specific prayer for you. You should pray for Allah to give you what is best for your destiny, not what your greedy eyes desire!" Lubna pouted aggressively, taking her phone back, and marched out of the room. Inna turned her full attention back to the radio 📻, where Tareek’s deep voice was echoing through the speaker: "...Faruq, on the front page of this morning’s edition of the 'Jasab' newspaper, your firm published a detailed report exposing the horrific atrocities being committed by Israeli forces against the citizens of Palestine. My question to you is: what is the current strategic stance of the Hamas movement, given that they are the governing authority in the territory? Furthermore, why are Muslim nations worldwide failing to provide immediate, robust military and humanitarian aid to save these people?" Faruq let out a grim, dry laugh. "King of Journalists, the reality on the ground is far more complex than it appears on paper. Israel possesses immense military strength and state-of-the-art weaponry, and they enjoy the absolute backing of the world's superpower nations. As long as the Palestinian authority refuses to recognize Israel's sovereignty, the military will not cease its relentless bombardment. Israel commands absolute dominance over Gaza's airspace, controlling every single entry and exit point. However, I understand you are currently preparing to travel down there for a major investigative journalism project, so you will soon witness the raw reality with your own eyes." Tareek offered a sophisticated, brief smile. "Well, the conversation has indeed grown profound, but our time is officially up. Dear listeners, please join us same time next week for the continuation of this discussion. This is Faruq M. Aliyu bidding you farewell." After Faruq signed off, Tareek concluded: "Have a wonderful and peaceful weekend ahead." He pulled off his headphones, handed the studio over to the next presenter, and walked straight out to his car. His heart was exceptionally heavy. Whenever he remembered Sultan's brutal murder, a wave of deep sorrow washed over his soul. He initially thought about calling his uncle to check for updates on the police investigation, but he quickly dismissed the idea. If only I were a law enforcement officer, he thought bitterly, I would personally hunt down Sultan's killer and deliver justice. Still, he vowed to himself that his brother's blood would never be shed in vain. He drove out of the station with absolute precision. His phone rang repeatedly on the passenger seat, but he ignored it completely. He navigated through the elite streets of Gadan Kaya, driving past a row of massive, high-end mansions before turning right into his family’s grand estate. The estate grounds were already teeming with mourners who had gathered for the funeral proceedings. The forensic team had officially concluded their preliminary autopsy and released the body. Tareek parked his car and stepped out in a hurry, desperate not to miss the funeral prayer (Janaza). He quickly performed his ablutions and joined the rows of men. Once the prayers concluded, the body was carried away to the cemetery. Tareek drove out alongside the funeral procession to accompany his brother to his final resting place. On their way back from the cemetery, a speeding vehicle suddenly swerved directly into Tareek's lane. Tareek slammed on his brakes with all his might, but it was too late. The two vehicles collided with a violent crash... ✍️
(Episodes 1–10)
Episode 1
A strange, heavy wind blew as darkness blanketed the sky. The entire estate fell completely silent, save for the distant crying of birds and the frantic swaying of trees under the sudden change in weather. Before anyone could react, the sky opened up, and rain began to pour down in torrential sheets. Instantly, everyone who had a window open slammed it shut.
Amidst the downpour, a fair-skinned, remarkably beautiful young boy stepped outside, tightly holding a walking cane. It was clear that he was blind. Despite the heavy rain beating down violently, he seemed entirely unfazed, walking steadily until he arrived right in front of the door leading to his uncle's wing.
Suddenly, the boy unleashed a piercing, agonizing shriek that echoed deeply through the entire estate. He fell, and blood began to ooze and spread rapidly on the ground. Despite his horrifying scream, not a single soul emerged from their apartments. Even if it hadn't been raining, this was the deeply rooted culture of this family—no one minded anyone else’s business, living completely detached lives as if they didn't share the exact same bloodline. It was a bizarre, tragic, and terrifying reality, inherited directly from their parents, who had fostered extreme division. In this family, an uncle dared not correct or discipline his brother's children; everyone lived strictly for themselves.
To make matters worse, they were cursed with a tyrannical matriarch—a grandmother who lived only for worldly pleasures, power, and absolute control. Descending from a royal lineage, she was the mother of wealthy tycoons, and anyone who earned her hatred was automatically doomed to a life of misery.
The main protagonist had never known his mother; he had been raised exclusively by his father from birth. This strange upbringing stemmed from the deeply shrouded, chaotic circumstances surrounding his birth within the NADER family line. The NADER household was built on dark, hidden secrets and dense complexities; unraveling them was a dangerous game that could cost many people their very lives.
Whatever the truth may be, follow me closely as the story unfolds.
The heavy downpour eventually subsided, leaving only a light, lingering drizzle in the air. A sleek, pitch-black Mercedes-Benz with heavily tinted windows glided into the compound. The tint was so dark that it was impossible to discern who was inside. The car parked smoothly right in front of its owner's private wing, as he had only returned to retrieve some important documents.
The driver's door opened, and a pair of flawless, fair-skinned feet, clad in expensive black alligator-leather half-shoes, stepped out. One look at the footwear confirmed that a fortune had been spent on it. He wore a crisp, white, and exceptionally luxurious Filtox Shadda fabric that draped elegantly over his frame. He exuded an intensely rich, captivating fragrance, looking as though he had been literally bathed in premium perfume. It was impossible to tear your eyes away from him due to his striking, flawless looks.
He possessed fair skin, intensely captivating, sexy eyes covered by a pair of sophisticated prescription glasses that heightened his charm, and a thick, glistening, perfectly groomed beard. He walked with the powerful, commanding stride of a wild buffalo or a lion. He truly embodied his names: the King of Lions and the King of Journalists. Any journalist worth their salt in Nigeria closely followed his footsteps.
Suddenly, he froze in his tracks as his heart rate spiked violently. "Sultan!" the name escaped his lips, his voice trembling with sheer horror. He pulled out his phone, his hands shaking as he dialed a number. The call was answered on the very first ring.
Trying desperately to stabilize his breathing, he barked into the receiver: "Hello, Commissioner? Get down to our house immediately with a full security detail and a team of officers. A murder has just been committed." Before the commissioner could respond, he slammed the phone down.
At that exact moment, Abbey (his father) emerged from his wing, looking clearly unsettled, indicating he hadn't gone to work that day. With a trembling voice, he called out: "TAREER! (TAREEK)"
Tareek didn't turn around. His heart hardened further, and his face flushed a deep, furious red, signaling that he had finally been pushed to his absolute limit. It was incredibly difficult to read the expressions on his handsome, reserved face; he was a master at concealing his internal turmoil, possessing a rare, supernatural level of patience and endurance.
Since his childhood, the turbulent waves of life had tossed him around in a dark, endless ocean. By the time Abbey rushed over to where he stood, he gasped in horror, finding Sultan lying flat on the ground, completely lifeless.
Abbey turned to Tareek, his eyes wide with panic. "Who... who killed him?"
Tareek remained dead silent, merely lifting his foot slightly to signal that he, too, had no idea. Knowing Tareek's rigid, unyielding nature, Abbey didn't press further and immediately began frantically calling the other members of the family. Within minutes, a massive crowd of relatives gathered around the body.
They lifted the corpse and carried it up to Sultan’s private floor, as it was the closest wing. The floor was a testament to extreme, unimaginable wealth; a massive, elegant portrait hung near the dining room area, depicting Tareek and Sultan locked in a warm embrace, laughing together. Looking at the cheerful face in the portrait, any outsider would double-check if this was the same cold, unyielding Tareek standing before them today—he was a literal chameleon, capable of shifting his demeanor entirely depending on his environment. His entire floor was decorated in an immaculate, high-end theme of white and gold.
Just then, Sitti (the grandmother) swept into the room in a display of absolute royalty and grandeur. She was draped in an incredibly expensive Swiss lace fabric, radiating a powerful, elite fragrance. Looking at her youthfulness and glowing skin, no one would ever believe she was the biological mother of these giant, powerful tycoons: ABDULKARIM, ABDULNUR, ABDALLAH, and NASIR.
Safna followed closely behind her, dressed in a trendy, sleeveless tank top paired with three-quarter trousers. Her hair was styled into a long, immaculate ponytail using premium horsehair extensions that cascaded down past her waist. She wore dark purple lipstick and exceptionally long, dramatic eyelashes. Rocking a pair of high-end stiletto heels that made a sharp, echoing clack-clack sound against the luxury tiles, she walked right past the corpse without a shred of emotion.
Sitti climbed onto a luxury royal sofa, elegantly crossing one leg over the other, swaying her foot with an air of absolute indifference. Moments later, the security jami'an tsaro arrived alongside a medical examiner, who immediately began conducting a preliminary forensic investigation on the corpse.
Suddenly, Aunt Ayesha rushed into the room, panting heavily. The moment she saw her son covered in blood, she threw herself onto the corpse, wailing hysterically. It was the heartbreaking sight of a devastated mother; her screams were so filled with raw agony that any human with a soul would deeply pity her.
Tareek quietly stepped back, removing himself from the hysterical crowd of relatives. His eyes turned bloodshot, and he tightly clenched his fists against his chest, fixing his piercing gaze on the corpse without blinking for a single second. He was intensely scanning the scene, determined to uncover the monster behind this murder. The security details eventually packaged the body to transport it to the hospital for a rigorous forensic autopsy, knowing that a thorough investigation was paramount.
The killer was clearly a professional master of malice; they had executed the crime flawlessly, leaving absolutely no evidence or clues behind.
As the body was wheeled out, Aunt Sakina and the other women sank onto the floor, observing Tareek closely, each harboring their own hidden thoughts. Sensing their intense gaze, Tareek cleared his throat loudly, causing everyone to turn toward him in fear. The only exception was Safna, who was completely unfazed, casually snapping pictures of the scene to shock her media followers and fans on social media.
With an air of supreme authority, Tareek stepped toward them and commanded coldly: "Clear out. I am locking down my wing."
Sitti’s eyes flashed with anger. Standing up with immense pride, she snarled, using his full name: "MUHAMMAD! Are you seriously throwing us out of your apartment?"
Tareek didn't even blink. He had long since ceased to fear this wicked, scheming old woman. Aunt Ameena, whose hot temper always got the better of her, quickly chimed in to support Sitti: "Sitti, just ignore him! He’s clearly projecting his anger onto us. Look at him! Ever since we walked in here, he’s been acting like the king of kings, puffing his chest out. We’ve known the true origins of this vulture since it migrated from Egypt, so don't you dare—"
Before she could finish her sentence, Tareek unleashed a thunderous, ferocious roar that shook the room: "I SAID GET OUT!"
Seeing him transform into a terrifying, ferocious lion, the relatives immediately scrambled to their feet and fled the wing in terror. Tareek picked up his documents and stormed out of the house.
Episode 6
"Sitti, I swear to God, I want nothing but the Lion (Tareek)," Safna declared, pouting.
Sitti picked up a crystal glass filled with freshly pressed apple juice, taking a elegant sip while observing her granddaughter. The entire family looked at Safna as though she had a severe mental illness. After all, wanting a man like Tareek was pure madness. His heart was completely hardened and scarred, he was constantly living on the edge of death, and he was entirely incapable of love.
Sitti gently placed her glass down on the glass center table in front of her. "Safna, you are clearly out of your mind. What on earth is there to love about Tareek? Granted, he has devastatingly good looks, but you know very well he is a child of sin—and such children always possess unmatched physical beauty paired with a cold, godless heart."
Sitti leaned back comfortably against her armchair, a dark, calculating smile spreading across her face. "However... if you tell me you are only after his vast wealth because he is a multi-billionaire, then I am fully on board. In fact, I have been looking for a direct pathway to seize his entire empire myself." She let out a sharp, chilling laugh. "You, my dear, will be my perfect stepping stone. I know you are capable of doing whatever it takes. Now, the real game begins."
Safna stared at her grandmother, completely lost and unable to comprehend the depth of her words. Just as she opened her mouth to speak, Sitti stood up abruptly, cutting her off. "It is not yet time for you to understand the details."
Realizing the conversation was over, Safna stood up and walked out, heading directly toward the young men's wing of the estate. The corridor was completely deserted. She looked around stealthily before quietly slipping into one of the private rooms. Since she possessed a spare key to the wing, she locked the door behind her.
She walked over to the bed, where Salim lay fast asleep, buried deep beneath a thick blanket, entirely oblivious to the chaos that had transpired in the estate. Safna climbed onto the bed, pulling the blanket off his body. He was completely naked, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers.
Without hesitation, she slipped her hand deep into his boxers. Feeling the sudden, intimate touch, Salim jolted awake. A wicked smile spread across his face, and Safna returned the look with equal mischief. He pulled her tightly into his arms, hauling her shirt up to expose her chest, and began aggressively nursing and pulling at her nipples.
In the heat of the moment, Safna gasped, "Salim... you have no idea. Sultan was murdered today."
Salim didn't even pause, displaying complete and utter indifference. "Who cares? One less bastard to worry about," he muttered carelessly, burying his face back in her chest.
PALESTINE: THE CITY OF GAZA
A fierce, sweeping wind blew across the Gaza Strip. Despite the political turmoil, the atmosphere possessed a unique, beautiful serenity due to its close proximity to the Mediterranean coast.
Suddenly, a deafening, catastrophic explosion tore through the air, followed immediately by the frantic, terrified screams of thousands of citizens. Concrete buildings began collapsing like a house of cards, burying people under heavy rubble as others fled for their lives.
Amidst the falling debris, a desperate father used the last of his strength to throw his young daughter out of a collapsing building into the open street. The little girl shrieked in terror, weeping and pounding against the debris, screaming: "Abbu! Abbu!" (Father! Father!)
The father simply shook his head, offering her a calm, beautiful smile as he raised his hand in a final farewell. The exit was completely blocked, and the towering concrete structure was on the verge of crushing him completely. The little girl turned to run back into the building to save him, but bystanders quickly grabbed her, holding her back. In that exact moment, she heard her father’s very last words—loudly and clearly reciting the Shahada (declaration of faith) before the building collapsed with a thunderous roar, burying him alive.
The little girl collapsed onto the asphalt, weeping bitterly as rescue workers and medics rushed to the scene.
In the war-torn Gaza Strip, peace was entirely non-existent. At any given moment, Israeli military forces could launch a devastating strike. Citizens sat outside the ruins of their homes—many severely injured, others completely displaced. Rescue workers frantically pulled lifeless bodies from beneath the heavy concrete slabs.
Suddenly, a heartbreaking shriek echoed through the air. A young Palestinian girl, barely ten years old, broke away from the volunteers holding her and ran toward the row of deceased bodies laid out on the pavement. Anyone who looked at her was moved to tears. Though the citizens had grown somewhat numb to the daily killings and the complete lack of international aid, the raw agony of losing one's family never faded. To make matters worse, severe famine was ravaging the population.
The young girl collapsed over the lifeless bodies, recognizing her entire family, including her father. Tears streamed down her face as she shook violently, completely traumatized and disoriented. A kind woman rushed over and pulled her into a tight embrace, but the girl fought back frantically, breaking free from the woman's grip. She threw herself back onto her father's corpse, weeping uncontrollably.
With great difficulty, the volunteers eventually managed to separate her from the body. There was no time or resources for traditional funeral baths; the bodies were quickly sprinkled with water and transported to their final resting places.
KANO, NIGERIA
Tareek honked his horn, and the security guard at the prominent radio station quickly swung the gates open. The facility was stunningly modern and beautifully designed, mirroring the elite infrastructure of the Al-Jazeera television network. Tareek navigated into the VIP parking lot, parked his luxury vehicle, and stepped out.
He walked directly toward the main reception area. The moment he entered, a high-class lady immediately stood up from the silver lounge chairs reserved for executive guests. She was dressed in an expensive, green English Atamfa fabric adorned with deep maroon embroidery, tailored into a tight straight skirt and a matching boubou. She wore a dark maroon veil and a pair of oversized designer sunglasses that obscured half of her face.
Just then, Tareek's phone began to ring. Seeing an unfamiliar number on the screen, he ignored it completely. Standing nearby, a beautiful female receptionist who was typing away on her laptop let out a subtle, flirtatious sigh and greeted him warmly: "Welcome back, King."
Without sparing her a glance, Tareek barely moved his lips, responding in a low, detached murmur: "Thank you."
As he began walking past the reception desk, the elite lady who had been waiting for him quickly stepped forward, calling out his name: "Tareek!"
Surprised, Tareek stopped and turned around, fixing his large, piercing eyes on her. The young lady quickly lowered her gaze, thoroughly intimidated and captivated by his intense, commanding aura.
Stammering nervously, she managed to say, "My... my name is Lubna Nazeer. I am one of your biggest admirers. I am deeply in love with you and your broadcasting programs."
Tareek's stern expression softened slightly. "Thanks," he replied simply, turning to continue on his way.
Lubna’s heart pounded wildly. Seeing that she was about to lose her chance with the man of her dreams, she quickly blurted out, "Please, King! Could I please get your phone number? And... please, could we take a picture together?"
Tareek froze in his tracks. He turned around, gently biting his lower lip. He despised humiliating or disrespecting ordinary people, so he offered a polite compromise: "We can take a picture, but I strictly do not give out my personal number."
Overjoyed, Lubna beamed. "Thank you so much!" She quickly pulled out her iPhone 7+ and snapped a couple of pictures with him. A rare, handsome smile graced Tareek’s face for the camera. After thanking him profusely, Tareek gave a polite nod and turned to leave.
Just then, his colleague Jamil walked up, grinning broadly. "The King of Lions!" he boomed, extending his hand for a warm, friendly handshake.
As Lubna walked away, Jamil watched her go, teasing Tareek playfully. "Wow, that is a seriously high-class lady. I swear, man, God has blessed you with immense popularity and charm. I always see Surayyah gatekeeping and chasing women away from you; no wonder you took so long to come inside! You were out here collecting flowers while we’ve been waiting for you in the studio. The program’s airtime is already running late!"
Tareek merely offered a faint smile, remaining quiet as usual. He turned the handle to the live broadcasting studio, and they stepped inside. The entire production crew was seated, waiting exclusively for him. Tareek took his seat, pulled his professional headphones 🎧 over his ears, and adjusted the microphone.
In his deep, rich, and intensely commanding radio voice, he began the live broadcast: "Assalamu Alaikum, dear listeners. Welcome back to another live episode of 'Review of the Dailies'. Today, we have a very special guest in the studio—the chief political correspondent for the daily 'Jasab Daily Trust' newspaper. I am your host, Muhammad TAREEK NADER. Let us dive straight into the headlines, as time is already far spent."
"Inna! Inna!" Lubna shouted excitedly as she burst through the front door of her family home.
The elderly matriarch lifted her head from her seat, staring at her granddaughter in bewilderment. "Lubna, are you completely out of your mind? You didn't even say the Islamic greeting, you just came bursting into this house like a wild animal!"
Lubna sat down beside her, quickly removing her veil. She opened her handbag, pulled out her phone, and gushed, "Inna, look! This is Tareek—the very man you listen to on the radio every single day! By the grace of Allah, I met him at the radio station today, and we took a picture together!"
Before her grandmother could respond, Lubna quickly reached over and turned up the volume of the radio 📻 sitting on the table, eager to listen to the live debate between the young star journalist and the correspondent from the Jasab newspaper. Seeing that her grandmother was still staring at her blankly, Lubna held the phone closer. "Inna, look closely! It’s me and him in the photo!"
Inna took the phone, squinting at the screen before smiling warmly. "Masha Allah, Lubna. He is an exceptionally handsome and dignified young man."
Lubna smiled dreamily. "Please, Inna, you must pray for me. Pray that Allah blesses me to become his wife."
Inna’s expression instantly hardened into a scowl. She handed the phone back aggressively. "Take your phone, you shameless modern children! You have absolutely no modesty left in you. I will absolutely not make such a specific prayer for you. You should pray for Allah to give you what is best for your destiny, not what your greedy eyes desire!"
Lubna pouted aggressively, taking her phone back, and marched out of the room. Inna turned her full attention back to the radio 📻, where Tareek’s deep voice was echoing through the speaker:
"...Faruq, on the front page of this morning’s edition of the 'Jasab' newspaper, your firm published a detailed report exposing the horrific atrocities being committed by Israeli forces against the citizens of Palestine. My question to you is: what is the current strategic stance of the Hamas movement, given that they are the governing authority in the territory? Furthermore, why are Muslim nations worldwide failing to provide immediate, robust military and humanitarian aid to save these people?"
Faruq let out a grim, dry laugh. "King of Journalists, the reality on the ground is far more complex than it appears on paper. Israel possesses immense military strength and state-of-the-art weaponry, and they enjoy the absolute backing of the world's superpower nations. As long as the Palestinian authority refuses to recognize Israel's sovereignty, the military will not cease its relentless bombardment. Israel commands absolute dominance over Gaza's airspace, controlling every single entry and exit point. However, I understand you are currently preparing to travel down there for a major investigative journalism project, so you will soon witness the raw reality with your own eyes."
Tareek offered a sophisticated, brief smile. "Well, the conversation has indeed grown profound, but our time is officially up. Dear listeners, please join us same time next week for the continuation of this discussion. This is Faruq M. Aliyu bidding you farewell."
After Faruq signed off, Tareek concluded: "Have a wonderful and peaceful weekend ahead."
He pulled off his headphones, handed the studio over to the next presenter, and walked straight out to his car. His heart was exceptionally heavy. Whenever he remembered Sultan's brutal murder, a wave of deep sorrow washed over his soul. He initially thought about calling his uncle to check for updates on the police investigation, but he quickly dismissed the idea. If only I were a law enforcement officer, he thought bitterly, I would personally hunt down Sultan's killer and deliver justice. Still, he vowed to himself that his brother's blood would never be shed in vain.
He drove out of the station with absolute precision. His phone rang repeatedly on the passenger seat, but he ignored it completely. He navigated through the elite streets of Gadan Kaya, driving past a row of massive, high-end mansions before turning right into his family’s grand estate.
The estate grounds were already teeming with mourners who had gathered for the funeral proceedings. The forensic team had officially concluded their preliminary autopsy and released the body. Tareek parked his car and stepped out in a hurry, desperate not to miss the funeral prayer (Janaza). He quickly performed his ablutions and joined the rows of men.
Once the prayers concluded, the body was carried away to the cemetery. Tareek drove out alongside the funeral procession to accompany his brother to his final resting place. On their way back from the cemetery, a speeding vehicle suddenly swerved directly into Tareek's lane.
Tareek slammed on his brakes with all his might, but it was too late. The two vehicles collided with a violent crash... ✍️