Page 29 of The Billionaire's Timed Wife

I check my watch—only five in the afternoon in Rheadur. Right now, I wish the time difference were greater so I could postpone the inevitable: facing my father.

“Excuse me, Kaled. If you don’t mind, I need to see what my father wants. We can talk afterward.”

On the outside, I appear calm; inside, I’m falling apart.

He knows.

Somehow, my father has figured out that I found out about the engagement, and now he’ll try to bring me back.

With no clue whether the future sheikh will support us or not, I’m terrified, while my mind spins through every possible scenario.

Could I hide here in Paris?

Would leaving tonight be too risky?

How would I get a visa to the United States?

All these questions swirl in my head like a rollercoaster of dread, none of them good.

I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself.

One problem at a time: first, find out what my father wants. Then, face the prince.

My hands tremble as I pick up the phone beside the bed and dial my father’s cell number.

“Where have you been?” he demands, his voice dripping with fury.

“Good afternoon, Dad,” I say, mindful of the time in our emirate. “I went to dinner with His Highness, Prince Kaled, and Princess Jazmina.” I’m reminding him who I’m with, hoping it might temper the anger already evident in his tone.

“You need to come back to Rheadur.”

“What?”

“I know what you two did. Your sister told me everything after you left. You overheard my conversation with your fiancé, didn’t you?”

Even though I expected it, a cold sweat runs down my spine. “I don’t have a fiancé. I never agreed to one,” I answer carefully but firmly.

“Oh, yes, you do. If you heard my conversation, then you know you’re already promised.”

Maybe it’s the physical distance between us, but a rage I’ve never felt before starts to burn beneath my skin. “No.”

“What do you mean, no?”

“No, as in I will not marry against my will. You just admitted I heard everything, including the part where you gave my supposed future husband permission to strike me.”

He doesn’t even bother to deny it. “A husband must do what’s necessary to keep a rebellious wife in line.”

“I’m not an animal to be controlled, Father. I may not have experience in relationships, but I can see the difference between how you treat your wives and how the former Sheikh Kamran treats his. He respects them. He sees them as equals.”

“Men and women will never be equals. I don’t want to hear any more of this nonsense. You’ll return home tomorrow, and next week we’ll announce your engagement.”

“No. Not only do I refuse to marry that man, but I’ll never submit to someone who says, before even speaking a single word to me, that ‘there’s no rebellion a good beating can’t fix,’” I say, repeating exactly what I heard that night.

Suddenly, all the hurt I’ve swallowed for years bursts out.

For the first time, I realize that suffering in silence has been poisoning me. Leaving my country was a turning point. Just being away from my father’s toxic presence is allowing me to breathe.

“Don’t be ridiculous. That was just a manner of speaking. It doesn’t mean he’d actually hit you,” he says, but we both know he’s lying.