Chapter 2 His True Face

Amir's Pov:

The respect I commanded in the company was palpable, a tangible force I had meticulously built. I saw it in the deferential nods of the junior partners and, most importantly, in the grateful eyes of my grandfather. He never failed to express his gratitude for the crucial deals I'd secured, the partnerships I'd forged over lavish dinners and in opulent boardrooms.

But I also saw the worry lurking behind his praise. He knew. He knew that while I was a maestro of social and business strategy, my role as an engineer was a carefully constructed façade.

I dodged meetings with the top engineers like they were the plague. During presentations on new technological updates, I remained a silent, smiling statue. I never volunteered a single technical idea. It was as if I'd learned nothing in my five years of university.

The moment of truth arrived in the stark silence of his office. I was mid-sentence, outlining a brilliant new marketing strategy, when Mr. Sami, the senior manager of the Computer Networks Department, walked in. He was the real deal-a man who spoke in code and circuit diagrams. He proposed a new technological approach and then, with the grim satisfaction of a surgeon finding a tumor, revealed a flaw in our current system and began explaining it.

I arranged my face into a mask of intense interest, but inside, I was drowning. The jargon was a foreign language, the concepts were a dense fog. When he finally finished, my grandfather turned to me. "Amir," he said, his voice calm. "Your opinion?"

I played the only card I had. "I agree with Mr. Sami. It's a solid analysis."

"Elaborate," my grandfather pressed, his gaze unwavering.

I felt the walls closing in. I tried to steer the conversation back to market impact and client perception, but my grandfather was a hawk. He wouldn't be diverted. He finally dismissed Mr. Sami, telling him he'd have an answer in two days.

The moment the door clicked shut, the atmosphere shifted. My grandfather turned to me, his expression grave.

"Explain yourself, Amir," he ordered, his voice low and stern.

"Soon, others will see it as well. It will be a scandal: 'Engineer Amir Ramzi Abo Al_Saeed is a fraud who knows nothing about his major'."

"They will accuse this entire company of corruption. They will question our integrity and the quality of our work!"

I tried to defend the indefensible. "I tried, Grandfather, I truly did. But I hated it," I confessed, the words feeling like a confession of a deep, shameful weakness.

"I hated every complex book in school and university. I absolutely hated math and science. But I am not stupid," I insisted, my voice gaining a desperate edge.

"I am a practical man. I work instead of reading about working. I learn from experience. I know I am not an engineer, but I needed the title to get to this position. Everyone knows how much I've done for this company. You know it too. This little detail can remain our secret."

I laid out my true value. "As a manager, I handle responsibilities others can't fathom. The logistics, the finance, the relations, the... 'dirty work.' That is what I do. Being an engineer? Many can do that. Taking care of the company? That is something only I can do."

He was silent for a long moment, his eyes searching my soul. "I will think about it," he said finally.

Soon after, fate intervened. My grandfather fell gravely ill. I stayed by his bedside for days, the guilt and fear were a constant companion. As he felt his time nearing, he called me close. His voice was a frail whisper, but his will was iron. He told me he would name me CEO, but only if I proved I could do it.

"Secure the deal with the QBG group," he breathed, referring to the partnership we'd been negotiating for years. "if you do that I will rest assured the company is in good hands. The fortune will be yours."

I went home that night feeling utterly trapped. The QBG deal was the big one. To secure it, I would have to lead the final presentation myself. I had never done that before. My role was always the prelude: I'd plan the outings, I'd pick the finest restaurants, the entertainment, I'd be making sure the partners were happy and pliable before the real technical experts took over. But now, as the prospective CEO, the technical burden would fall squarely on my shoulders. I would have to sit with the engineers, understand their updates, make technical decisions, and answer complex, pointed questions.

I was stepping into a danger zone, and I was utterly unarmed. And then, as if summoned by my desperation, a memory surfaced. A face from the past. The only person who had ever been able to translate that incomprehensible world of equations and code into something I could grasp. My one and only savior from college: my nerd friend. Tala.