A two-hundred-and-fifty-million-dollar deal had been seconds away from completion.
And a child wearing a blue dress had just stopped it.
Richard suddenly stood.
“This is absurd,” he snapped. “A small technical error doesn’t invalidate the agreement.”
But the room had already shifted.
No one was paying attention to him anymore.
The emir continued studying Mia.
Not angrily.
But thoughtfully.
Laura felt her heartbeat racing in her throat.
This moment could determine everything.
If the emir thought her daughter had caused trouble, she might lose her job immediately.
“I’m so sorry, sir,” she whispered. “She didn’t mean to interrupt.”
The emir said nothing at first.
Slowly, he stood up.
Everyone in the room stiffened.
He walked around the table until he stood directly in front of Mia.
The girl looked up at him.
For the first time, she felt afraid—not for herself, but for her mother.
The emir bent slightly so they were face-to-face.
“Who taught you that?” he asked.
Mia hesitated.
It was easy to tell the truth about letters and ink.
But now they were talking about people.
“My great-grandfather,” she finally answered.
The emir raised an eyebrow.
“A professor?”
Mia shook her head.
“He was a sergeant.”