Location: MAK Enterprises
The glass building kissed the sky.Suits walked fast. Phones kept ringing.But the moment Mujtaba stepped out of the elevator—everyone froze.
Tailored black suit. Dark sunglasses. A storm behind his silence.
Zayan, his assistant, followed him nervously with a clipboard in hand.
"Sir, the volunteers are ready. Rashan is packed. Two drivers and the foundation team will distribute the supplies."
Mujtaba paused, turned his head slightly.
"Cancel it."
Zayan blinked. "Sir?"
"No one goes today."
"But the trucks are—"
"I'll go myself."
Zayan almost dropped the file.
"Y-You'll… go? Personally?"
Mujtaba's jaw tightened.
"Yes. With my men. I want to see how these people live. I want to see if your 'perfect planning' actually works."
Zayan gulped.
"Of course, sir. I'll inform the guards."
Mujtaba walked forward, his words cold yet commanding:
"Tell the team: if one sack is missing, or one family left unfed—I'll know."
Scene Shift: In the SUV – Mujtaba with His Guards
Three black SUVs sliced through the poor streets of the city.
People peeked out of their windows.Kids stopped playing with tires.Women covered their heads and stepped aside as the tires crushed dust beneath them.
The devil had arrived.But not to punish.To provide.
He stepped out.No bodyguards spoke unless spoken to.
He walked up to an old lady who sat with torn slippers and calloused hands.
"Is there anything else you need?" he asked softly, almost too gently for a man with blood on his name.
She couldn't believe it.
"Beta… we don't even know who sent the help. Just bless them. May Allah protect them."
He looked away, something dark flickering in his eyes.
"He might not deserve your prayers…"
But he still nodded.