Page 67 of The Billionaire's Timed Wife

“I don’t usually judge the people I investigate. I’ve worked on cases involving decent citizens, and others not so much. It’s not my place to hand out rewards for good behavior. But some of the things I learned about your brother...they stole my sleep. Forgive my honesty, but no amount of money in the world is worth my conscience.”

And I understand exactly what he doesn’t say: whatever happened to Naim was more than deserved.

Three days later

I stare at my office door after finishing a video call with my father.

It was, without exaggeration, the hardest conversation I’ve ever had in my life.

Before speaking to him, I contacted his cardiologist and asked him to be on standby in case the news was more than my father could handle.

Telling an eighty-two-year-old man that his missing, presumed-dead eldest son was also a criminal felt about as pleasant as having razor blades shoved under my fingernails.

But I had no choice. There’s no doubt that when the world finds out I’m about to become the new sheikh of Rheadur, Naim’s story will resurface in the headlines with full force, and this time, there will be no stopping that runaway train.

In fact, Phill Mallory already warned me that I should expect the bomb about Naim’s past to explode any day now.

So, as painful as it was for my father to hear about his eldest son’s disgraceful life, it was better that it came from me.

Chapter 32

New York-Presbyterian Hospital - United States

Days later

“Did you inform the doctors of the exact time we’d arrive?”

“Yes. Your mother is waiting for you, Adeela,” he answers, making no move to open the car door. We’re in the parking lot, and he asked the driver and the bodyguards to give us privacy. Even though I can still see them from inside, they can’t hear us.

Kaled has already told me three times that they’re expecting us, but I’m too nervous. Even after that first conversation, when my mother and I started talking daily, it will be different seeing her face to face.

It’s been twelve years since I last saw her, and in all my dreams, I never imagined it would happen in a hospital.

Even though, after speaking with one of the doctors over video call, I’m certain her illness is under control, she still needscare. For that, my future husband arranged for part of her medical team to spend the first month with her in Rheadur.

I have no idea how much something like that costs, but from what I’ve read, this hospital is one of the best in New York. I can’t afford to be proud if I want my mother with me.

We agreed to stay in his Manhattan apartment for about three days before flying back home, following the doctors’ recommendations.

Mom will be discharged tomorrow, but the head of her medical team thought it best to wait before putting her on a flight, even one as comfortable as the private jet belonging to my fiancé.

Earlier today, when we landed, I only had time for a quick shower before coming straight here. I managed to rest well on the way, since the jet has two bedrooms.

Not once did Kaled come into the suite with me, and I think I know why: after what’s happened between us these past few days, we don’t exactly have control when we’re near each other, especially behind closed doors.

“Before you go in, there’s something I want to tell you,” he says.

His voice sounds uncertain, which makes me turn to look at him. Hesitation doesn’t suit him, so I can’t help wondering what could be so serious that he’s afraid to say it.

“Did something happen?”

“Not yet. But it will, soon.”

A knot forms in my stomach.

We’ve both been constant headlines in celebrity magazines since our engagement was announced. Given who Kaled is, I suppose the news alone would’ve been enough to keep the tabloids buzzing, but it became much bigger after that model, Ingrid, made her statement about their brief relationship.

Just thinking of that woman sours my mood, and the anxiety I’ve been feeling about seeing my mother turns into anger.