Cracks in the Foundation

The Siddiqui mansion exuded luxury, but today, tension hung thick in the air. Zara Siddiqui sat in her opulent bedroom, gripping her tablet as the incriminating post stared back at her.

Her perfectly manicured nails tapped the screen as she read the damning comments. The images of Salim Siddiqui with various women were splashed all over the post—circulating in business circles, on social media, everywhere. The world was laughing at the Siddiquis, and Zara's blood boiled with rage.

"This idiot!" she muttered under her breath, her jaw clenched. *How dare he?*

It wasn't the betrayal that stung—she had long since stopped caring about Salim's escapades. No, what infuriated Zara was the public humiliation. This wasn't just a scandal; this was a loss of power. And Zara Siddiqui never let anyone make her look weak.

She tossed the tablet onto the marble countertop with a loud clatter, her chest heaving. Before she could compose herself, her son, Ayan, walked in.

"Mom?" he asked cautiously, his usual politeness tinged with unease.

Zara spun around to face him, her expression hard. "You saw it too, didn't you?"

Ayan nodded, his face a mix of anger and disappointment. "Everyone's talking about it. The Siddiqui name is all over the news."

Zara's lips curled into a sneer. "Your father has no self-control. Always thinking with his… ego."

"Ego?" Ayan repeated bitterly. "Call it what it is, Mom. He's a disgrace."

Zara's eyes narrowed. "Watch your tone, Ayan. Your father may be a fool, but he's still your father. And more importantly, he's still *our* source of power."

"Power?" Ayan's voice rose. "What power, Mom? Do you think anyone respects us after this? My friends are mocking me, their parents are mocking *you*! And you're still worried about power?"

Zara crossed her arms, her eyes cold. "Do you think the world will pity us if we crumble now? No, Ayan. Strength is the only thing people respect. Your father has handed our enemies a weapon, and I'll be damned if I let them use it against me."

Ayan's eyes burned with hatred, not just for his father but for the toxic environment Zara had created. "You're just as bad as him," he muttered under his breath.

Zara's sharp ears caught the words, and she glared at him. "Careful, Ayan. You may be my son, but don't think for a second that you can speak to me that way."

Before Ayan could respond, the sound of heavy footsteps echoed through the mansion. Zara's face hardened as she realized who it was.

The matriarch of the Siddiqui family, Salim's mother, entered the room with an air of authority. She was a woman who had built an empire on discipline and ruthlessness, and her presence silenced everyone.

"Zara," the matriarch said, her voice low and dangerous. "What is this nonsense I'm hearing about your husband? Have you seen the post?"

"Yes, Mother," Zara replied, forcing herself to appear calm.

"And what are you doing about it?"

Zara's mask slipped for a moment, her frustration showing. "What do you expect me to do? I didn't post it. I didn't—"

"Enough." The matriarch's tone was icy. "Excuses won't fix this mess. Do you think the Siddiqui name will survive if the public believes we're a family of degenerates? This is your responsibility, Zara. You married Salim, and you've benefited from his power for years. Now, fix it."

Zara gritted her teeth, her anger boiling over. "Fix it? Your son created this mess,Mother. Maybe if you'd raised him to be more than a spineless womanizer, we wouldn't be here!"

The matriarch's eyes blazed. "Careful, Zara. Don't forget who allowed you into this family. Your place here is not guaranteed."

A tense silence filled the room. Ayan, standing by the door, watched the exchange with barely concealed disdain.

"Great," he muttered, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "While you two argue about who's to blame, the whole world is laughing at us."

Zara turned to her son, her expression softening. "Ayan, this isn't your burden. Let the adults handle it."

Ayan laughed bitterly. "Handle it? Like you handled Dad's affairs? Like you handled Ibrahim and his mother?" He shook his head, his voice low but full of venom. "You're just as responsible for this mess as he is."

Before Zara could respond, Ayan stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

The matriarch watched him leave, then turned back to Zara. "Get control of your son. And your husband. If you fail, I'll handle this myself. And trust me, Zara, you won't like how I handle it."

With that, she swept out of the room, leaving Zara alone.

For the first time in years, Zara felt powerless. But she quickly buried the feeling, replacing it with cold determination.

"Fine," she whispered to herself. "If Salim wants to ruin this family, I'll make sure he pays for it. No one humiliates Zara Siddiqui and gets away with it—not even my husband."

Her eyes glinted with malice as she reached for her phone, already plotting her next move.