The air in the small, off-campus shawarma shop was thick with the scent of garlic sauce and grilled meat. Zaid pushed the food around his plate, his appetite soured by a lingering guilt he couldn't shake. Bassam, observing his friend's mood, ate in his usual quiet manner before breaking the silence."I talked to mother about you," Bassam said casually, wiping his hands on a napkin.Zaid looked up, surprised. "You did? Why?""Because you're trying to run a business with a clown as your manager," Bassam replied, his tone dry but not unkind. "She was impressed, actually. She said building a personal brand from nothing at your age shows initiative. She said if you're serious about it, she has some... what did she call it... 'business hacks.' She offered to give you some advice, if you want it."The offer cut through Zaid's gloom like a spotlight. Om Salah wasn't just kind; she was a sophisticated, successful woman. Her advice wouldn't be about algorithms or content ideas—it would be abou

The weeks that followed their walkout from Amera's villa were not glamorous. There were no limousines or glittering villas. There was only the quiet, relentless grind of the plan. Khamis, humbled and refocused, became a machine of efficiency. The whiteboard in his room was a mosaic of color-coded content calendars, analytics reports, and strategic goals. Zaid, trusting his manager completely, devoted himself to being the best on-screen talent he could be.They followed Om Salah's advice to the letter. They drafted a formal partnership contract with the help of the lawyer she recommended, a dry, meticulous man who made them define every possible contingency. It was boring, but it made their alliance feel legitimate and secure. They diversified, creating short, punchy clips for other platforms, and Zaid only accepted affiliate deals for products he actually used and liked. The growth was no longer a dramatic spike, but a steady, upward-trending line on a graph, a line built on a found