Page 120 of The Billionaire's Timed Wife

At the end of the reading, the judge gave the defendant an opportunity to apologize to me and to his daughter.

He refused, keeping his gaze fixed straight ahead.

With everything that’s happened—arrests, murder plots, betrayals, and escapes—I had started to wonder if there wasn’t still a missing piece to this puzzle. I even considered the possibility that Naim might also be Arif’s son.

I brought it up with my father, and he told me he’d already thought the same thing, but that Naim was definitely his. He reminded me of an incident from when my half-brother was a teenager and had an accident that required a blood donor. My father was the first to volunteer, and they were compatible.

That alone doesn’t mean much—it could simply have been a coincidence in blood type—but when I looked at it more carefully, it didn’t add up. If Naim had been Arif’s son, they would’ve schemed to put him in power long ago. They wouldn’t have waited for my father to abdicate of his own accord.

The judge calls my name. By law, I must approach the stand to confirm the sentence.

Adeela squeezes my hand, knowing what I’m about to do.

I look at her one last time before standing. For her alone, I could’ve reconsidered my decision, but when she nods, I rise to fulfill my duty.

After a few formal words, the judge asks the question everyone has been waiting for. “Your Highness, do you confirm the sentence?”

“Yes,” I say, locking eyes with the man who disgusts me. “I confirm that the crime committed by Arif Ghazal shall be punished by death. I am Kaled Fouad Ayad Badawi Faheem, Sheikh and Supreme Leader of Rheadur. Anyone who dares threaten my family will never have my forgiveness.”

“Thank you, Your Highness,” the judge says as I return to my wife’s side. “The sentence is to be carried out within six months.”

An hour later, I step out onto the palace balcony to greet the citizens who’ve filled the streets to celebrate the decision.

My pain is theirs.

And now, it’s finally over.

I’m ready to lead my country.

To honor my people.

To live and die for my family.

Epilogue 1

Rheadur

Two years later

“Need help?” I ask as I walk into our chambers.

“No, I’ve got it. It’s not that hard,” he says, though I can clearly see the struggle it takes for him to get a sock on our daughter’s tiny left foot. Malika is only seven months old, and she’s fast asleep. “Did you finish your college work?”

I’m starting my third year of business school, and I can’t help but marvel at how women around the world manage to juggle kids and classes at the same time. I have plenty of nannies and maids—and my mother, who visits whenever she can—but even so, I constantly feel like I owe my children more of me.

Between university, motherhood, and my chocolate factory, sometimes I think I’m going to lose my mind.

I’ve decided that, just like Kaled did with his own company and following his advice, I’ll hire someone to manage mine.

As much as it thrills me to see my business thriving, nothing brings me greater joy than being with my family. Somehow, I feel like I’ve been missing too much of them.

“I can’t study anymore tonight,” I admit. “Every five minutes I lose focus, thinking about you three up here. I miss my babies and my love.”

He finally finishes the task, covers our little girl, and settles her beside us before opening his arms to me.

I walk over and sit on his lap.

“Where’s Tajj?” I ask.