ZAIN
Zain was heading toward a destination that had been forced upon him .... a place where he would spend an entire year without touching a tennis racket.
Since the age of fourteen, he had lived in the limelight. Wimbledon had become the core of his existence .... the heartbeat of his purpose. In the stormy days of his youth, it was his only escape. Because of Wimbledon, he had managed to suppress the ache of his father's death ... the pursuit his baba had chosen for him.
It was on those sacred courts that he had found his strength, his identity, and his reason to keep moving. His life was interwoven with the voices that once roared for him .... the yelling, the screaming, the chanting of his name. Those voices had lifted him when he stumbled and cheered him through every triumph.
And now, after signing that eerie contract, he felt like a chained slave .... bound to follow the ridiculous rules that moron Adam Macros had drafted.
At times, he couldn't help but think that Mr. Alam had been right. He had gambled his career, a pawn in Adam Macros's rivalry. Perhaps leaving the LTA would have been the better option. Maybe he could have saved one .... his father's wish or his career. But walking away would mean accepting defeat… and Zain Farooq was not raised to bow before defeat.
And then there were the fans ... those unpredictable worshippers who held the power to create or destroy idols. They could die for their heroes while they glittered under the spotlight, yet their devotion was painfully short-lived. Out of sight, out of mind. They had deceitful tendencies, fickle hearts dressed as loyalty.
He knew he couldn't keep his fans' attention merely by being a brand ambassador. Modeling wasn't his piece of cake, and he knew it. If he wanted to stay in their minds, he had to do something more .... something that would keep their admiration intact.
He exhaled heavily, the sound blending with the low hum of the aircraft.
Life had suddenly become dense, almost suffocating. Too many burdens had landed on his plate all at once .. finding his lost sibling, dealing with that bizarre contract and the scheming Adam Macros, accepting his father's sudden death, and helping his mother recover completely.
He felt trapped in a rollercoaster, unsure where the ride would end. And beneath all his thoughts lurked a single fear .... the fear of failure. The fear of losing everything he had fought for.
"Uff," he breathed out, closing his eyes.
The airplane soared through the clouds, and Zain sat alone in a VIP seat reserved to keep him away from the chaos of his fans. A few rows away, two air hostesses were struggling miserably to conceal their excitement ... their professionalism slowly crumbling under the weight of their admiration.
"Oh my God, I'm going to have a heart attack! He looks even more handsome than on screen," one of them whispered breathlessly.
"You stay here and compose yourself," the other replied, adjusting her scarf. "I'm going to ask if he wants his meal."
"Wait! It's my turn. If you dare go near him, I'll complain to the captain," the first snapped softly, smoothing her uniform with a frown.
"Then hurry up," the second teased. "He's already dozing off. If he falls asleep, you'll lose your golden chance."
The first hostess threw her colleague a deadly glare ... as if she had just laid claim to a priceless treasure ... and then stepped forward, heart racing.
"Sir," she called gently, wearing her best million-dollar smile.
"Hmm," Zain murmured without opening his eyes.
"Sir, may I serve your meal now?" she asked, her voice dripping with honey, hoping he would at least glance at her.
"No, thank you," he replied calmly, still with his eyes closed ... as though he hadn't even noticed her presence.
Her shoulders slumped instantly, disappointment heavy in her chest. She turned back, lips pressed in a thin line, while the other hostess watched with envy and amusement. But to their dismay, for the remaining seven hours of the flight, Zain slept .. untouched by fame, unmoved by admiration, and unaware of the two hearts fluttering a few rows away.
Zain woke to a flight announcement. The plane had landed in Toronto; he pulled on his overcoat and stepped off. Outside, the air was biting. He shrugged his coat tighter and hid his eyes behind dark goggles. His bodyguards and manager were already waiting to receive him at Toronto Pearson International Airport.
The bodyguards moved around him with practiced precision, escorting and shielding him from every side. He reached the exit. For a moment his eyes caught the sight: a crowd chanting, holding banners, demanding their idol's attention...shouting his name, professing their love... Is that it? he wondered. Was he about to lose them...the steady stream of support that fueled him? Their voices surged into his chest like electricity; for an instant he felt like a superhero, invincible because of them. Life felt no less than royal, like something out of a fairytale.
He let out a bright smile and waved. In his plan against Adam Macros, he needed them.
The roar grew louder; the intensity multiplied at the smallest gesture from their favorite star.
Once inside the car he called Mr. Alam.
"Mr. Alam, I've reached Toronto."
"Yes sir... I am in Islamabad. I'm looking for an investigation agency to hand over the details. If God is on our side, we'll soon find your sister," Mr. Alam replied. After discussing a few things, he ended the call.
Zain then called Mrs. Stafford to ask about his mother. By the time the car reached the hotel, there were still crowds outside...fewer than at the airport, but present nonetheless.
As soon as he reached his room he phoned his manager. Mr. Jackson was surprised to receive the sudden call....they had just been together in the car....but Zain couldn't risk leaking his plan.
When Mr. Jackson reached Zain's room, he found him pacing, restless and eager.
"Mr. Jackson, have a seat. I need to discuss something very important," Zain said, and then told him about the game Adam Macros had been playing. Mr. Jackson could barely believe it. He'd long suspected something manipulative about Adam, but this was on another level.
"Do you believe me?" Zain asked, searching Mr. Jackson's face for a clue.
"I don't know what to say," Jackson admitted, still dazed. He knew Adam Macros had done shady things to get his son into the LTA, but this was worse. Henry, of course, was nothing compared to Zain.
"Then that's why I'm still here. I can't leave the LTA. I have my reasons. All I want is to make Adam Macros taste his own medicine and show him his boundaries. But I can't do it alone... I need your help." Zain's voice was steady. It was the least he could do to protect himself and the LTA from that man.
"Okay. What do you want me to do?" Jackson asked. His agreement was a major win for Zain.
Minutes later Zain was on a live video call with Mr. Mathew Reed, COO of the LTA...the association's second most powerful man. Zain brought him into his confidence and explained everything Adam Macros had done.
Zain knew how much he stood to lose. One wrong step, one betrayal by the two men on whose shoulders he'd built his plan, and everything could be destroyed. Mathew, however, turned out to be one of Adam's fiercest enemies. Not only did he promise to support Zain, he also offered evidence he'd collected against Adam Macros.
Zain was stunned to learn he wasn't the only victim. Adam Macros had ruined the careers of many players for his own gain.
"Thank you, sir. I'm grateful for your trust," Zain said, his voice thick with gratitude.
"I know you, Zain," Mathew replied, voice warm with pride. "I watched you grow from a boy into the player you are today. Your father raised you well....I've always been inspired by that. I'm proud of you."
Zain felt a pang ... it always happened whenever someone mentioned his father's name. His heart began to ache, yearning for him. He wondered if there would ever be anyone who could erase this pain, who could fill the emptiness that made him feel so incomplete.
"Zain, Adam is very shrewd," Mr. Alam said seriously. "You have to play smarter to win. He got the position only because I refused to take responsibility as CEO. He was the board's second option. But now, he lives under the illusion that he owns this association, when in reality, he's just a shareholder like the rest of the directors. I'll work from within to win over the other members against him… but there's a problem."
"What?" Zain asked sharply.
"The meeting can only be summoned with Adam's approval. And why would he allow it if it's against him?"
They had reached another deadlock before even started.
Mr. Alam continued, "Listen, Zain. There was an Egyptian player once ... Rami Zaher. A brilliant but hot-headed man.
He was one of the best players, but we lost him because of Adam. Adam played the same trick on him that he later used on you. Back then, it wasn't his son involved ... it was a bribery case. Rami gave Adam a tough time, but since he was fighting alone, he eventually gave up and walked away from the world of Wimbledon. He never joined any other association again.
After crushing a player like Rami Zaher, Adam's confidence soared. He convinced himself that if he could end Rami's career, he could control anyone who crossed his path.
Zain listened silently, every word fueling the fire inside him.
"Zain," Mr. Mathew said, lowering his voice, "I've heard Rami is in Canada. You must find him and convince him to give a statement against Adam. Many board members still believe Adam wronged him. If Rami speaks up, the balance could tilt in our favor."
The live call ended, leaving Zain with a new perspective...and a new determination....to deal with Adam more vigorously.
He turned toward Mr. Alam and said firmly, "Mr. Alam, I want to have a meeting with the Brand Team as soon as possible. I gave Adam one year… but I'm giving myself six months. I have to stay six steps ahead of that moron, Marcos."
Life had suddenly become a battlefield for him..
and he was determined to win on every front.