Eventually, Ibrahim even invited Faisal to KL, offering him a place to stay and a role in the family business.
Faisal's family was small. His father had died when he was young, and he lived with his mother and sister in London. Shifting to KL wasn't easy for him. He was Malaysian by nationality but London was his home. But after completing his Master's, Faisal sold his mother's shop, came to KL.
In just three years, Faisal became Ibrahim's right-hand man. He handled everything with loyalty and intelligence, making life easier for Ibrahim. Amir, meanwhile, was preparing to step into politics, following the path of his father.
On other hand, Zainab was at the peak of her teenage glow, the kind of girl who turned heads without even trying. A topper in school, always raising her hand first in class, teachers adored her. Her friends never missed a chance to say how lucky they were to have her—kind, supportive, the one who always noticed when someone was feeling low. She wasn't loud, wasn't the center of attention by force—but her presence filled every room. She had shoulder-length hair dyed a soft brown shade. A slim feminine figure, delicate wrists, and a face that always seemed fresh, almost like she had just stepped out of spring. She was innocence wrapped in elegance.
But hidden innocence.
One afternoon, Ibrahim invited Faisal to Rahman Mansion for lunch.
It was the very first time Faisal had been allowed into Ibrahim's home. Until then, their meetings had always been outside—restaurants, private lounges, or Ibrahim's office. It was a sign that he was now in a position where Ibrahim trusted him enough to bring him inside his personal world. This was the beginning of Faisal's slow inclusion into the Rahman family's circle, where soon enough, he would attend every party, every gathering the Rahmans held.
Faisal had already seen the Rahmans' London villa multiple times. He thought he had a good understanding of their wealth, their lifestyle, their stature. But the mansion in their hometown proved him utterly wrong. The sheer size, the architecture, the luxury of it all stunned him. For a moment, he thought his entire neighborhood back home could fit and live comfortably inside this single property. That was the scale of Rahman power. And why not? In the last few years, Ibrahim had taken care of everything, and the wealth kept flowing from one place to another, all under his control.
The lunch itself was grand — the kind Faisal was not used to every day. Aliya seemed to take an instant liking to him. Faisal had a charm, a way of speaking and smiling that made people fall for him easily. Aliya looked at him as though he could have been one of her own sons.
Samir, however, wasn't at the table. He was tied up with university classes and his coaching centre. Ibrahim had once wanted to send his younger brother abroad for higher studies too, but Samir had refused. One of his old school teachers was giving private tuitions in the field of ethical hacking — and Samir wanted to learn that instead.
Ethical hackers are people who break into computer systems, but not to steal. They do it to find weak points, test security, and help organizations fix them. In other words, they hack with permission. For most people, this was a career to serve big companies or governments. But for Ibrahim, it meant something more.
He saw the potential. If his own brother mastered these skills, he would never need to search for outside hackers. Everything could stay within the family, quiet and controlled. So, Ibrahim didn't push Samir to leave for foreign universities. He let him stay, let him learn. It was an investment for the future.
After lunch, Ibrahim suggested a walk. The two men stepped outside into the front yard, the wide marble steps leading them toward the trimmed gardens. The breeze carried the faint scent of roses, but the conversation quickly turned dark, as it always did in Ibrahim's world.
"I've been getting messages," Ibrahim started, "Not the kind you ignore. Threats."
Faisal frowned. "From who?"
"From men who think the city belongs to them," Ibrahim said, his gaze fixed on the long stretch of lawn ahead. "There's a new area—south side. The docks and the lanes around it. Business there is… untouched for now. But whoever had their grip on it before doesn't like me stepping in. They've sent word—back off, or pay with blood."
"And what do you plan to do?"
Ibrahim turned to him, his eyes sharp. "What do you think? You think I've built all this"—he gestured to the mansion—"by stepping back when someone barked at me? No. You take the bite, you take the pain, but you don't step back. That's how an empire stands."
Faisal nodded slowly. "So, you want that area."
"I will have it," Ibrahim replied firmly. "And from now on, Faisal, the supplies for that area will go through you. I've watched you long enough. You know how to talk, how to move things without leaving traces. That's what I need. This isn't just about making money—it's about showing that Ibrahim Rahman doesn't back down."
Faisal met his gaze, steady and thoughtful. "And if they strike back?"
"They will," Ibrahim said without hesitation. "That's why I need someone I can trust in charge. You take care of the supplies, you keep the men in line. Let me worry about the war. You just make sure nothing stops moving."
There was a silence between them, filled only by the sound of water splashing in the fountain nearby. Faisal finally spoke, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Then from today, that area belongs to us."
Ibrahim's lips curved faintly. "Exactly. To us."
And this was the wrong method Ibrahim took against his enemy. The enemy was none other than Black Mamba. The land Ibrahim was talking about — the land he wanted to conquer — already belonged to Mamba. And that was how the fire of enmity between them was about to start.
Just then, Faisal noticed a car entering the compound. The car stopped, and the door opened. A young teen girl stepped out. She had a schoolbag on her shoulders, her uniform neat but a little tired from the day. A blue hairband held her soft hair back.
She was about to walk inside the house, but the moment her eyes caught Ibrahim — she suddenly changed direction. With a big smile, she started running straight towards him.
"Careful, you will fall," Ibrahim said calmly, almost like a habit.
And as if his words were written in air — it happened.
Her foot hit a small stone on the ground. She lost balance and with a soft cry — she fell down hard.
"Shit!" Ibrahim hissed, rushing forward at once. He bent down, his big hands gently lifting her arm, checking if she was hurt.
"Are you okay? Did your hand hurt? Show me your elbow. Did your knee hit the stone? Tell me, where does it pain?" He asked in quick breaths, not giving her a chance to even reply properly.
Her uniform pants covered her legs, so he couldn't see if she had scraped them or not. He tried to check carefully, brushing away the dust from her clothes.
Faisal stood behind, shocked at the scene. Who was this girl? Why was Ibrahim so worried?
The girl winced a little, then looked up at Ibrahim, "Ibi… you just opened your mouth, and I fell!"
Ibrahim shook his head, his tone half-annoyed, half-soft.
"Who told you to run like that, huh? Can't you walk like a normal person? You should blame yourself, not me."
She pouted, while her brother helped her get up carefully. Then she dusted her dress and her eyes landed on Faisal, "So… you're that friend who's three years younger than Ibi, but still studied in the same grade as him?"
Ibrahim chuckled under his breath, while Faisal gave a small nod, glancing at Ibrahim as if waiting for his permission to answer, "It's not that difficult. You can make a false birth certificate and take admission early in university. That's what I did."
She pulled out a lollipop from her pocket, unwrapped it, and put it in her mouth. With complete seriousness, she asked, "Oh really? Or maybe there was a girlfriend in university that you wanted to chase after? That's why you hurried so much?"
Her tone was so straight and curious, as if she truly wanted to know about his love life.
Faisal, caught off guard by her question, quickly shook his head. "No—nothing like that. I was just intelligent. My mother told me to take advantage of that."
Ibrahim, who was watching them both, shook his head and said, "What are you two even talking about?" Then he placed a hand on her shoulder and introduced her properly.
"This is Zainab… my one and only sister."