Page 97 of The Billionaire's Timed Wife

Even after the former FBI agent I hired as a private investigator gave up the case, I kept paying others to continue the search. But at this point, everyone in the family, including his wives and daughters, knows he’s not coming back.

Naim is dead, and the chances of discovering what really happened grow smaller with each passing day.

“I don’t know what else to do, Father. I think we’ve exhausted every possibility,” I say honestly.

“That’s what I came to talk about, Kaled. It’s not fair for you to keep torturing yourself over sins that aren’t yours. I love you, my son, and I know how honorable you are. Because of the promise you made to find your brother, you’d spend the rest of your life searching for him.”

I don’t respond, because he’s right. I don’t go back on my word. Even though, after learning the full extent of Naim’s cruelty, his death doesn’t stir a single trace of anguish in me, I would still search for him...for my father’s sake.

“I would,” I admit.

“I know. That’s why, starting today, you’re released from that obligation. Go live your life with your beautiful wife. You already have more responsibilities than most men your age between your companies and governing Rheadur. It isn’t fair that your few free hours are still burdened by this ghost.”

“I want to take Adeela on a honeymoon. Daisy’s chemotherapy sessions are ending, and my mother-in-law is getting stronger every day now.”

He looks at me with a kind of sad affection. “Forgive me, Kaled. You’ve always been the best son a father could ask for. You never gave me trouble, even when I disapproved of your Western lifestyle. I was selfish to give you the thankless task of finding your brother.”

“Half-brother,” I correct because, whatever else I am, I’m not a hypocrite. “I never had any real connection to Naim. Ourshared blood was a coincidence of fate. But even so, despite everything he did, and even if I don’t mourn his death, I never wished for his place. His becoming sheikh was the worst thing that could have happened to our country. Still, it’s not for me to decide who should live or die.”

My father leans back in the armchair. “I should have changed the law. Naim was never fit to rule Rheadur.”

He sounds weary, and I know he blames himself. His health kept him away from public life for a while, but during my transition to power, he was by my side every step of the way. As the last true ruler our emirate had, he saw firsthand how chaotic the nation’s economy was when I took over.

“Yes, you should have,” I say, without sugarcoating it. “I plan, actually, to allow a second son to inherit if the council deems the firstborn unfit. Or even, who knows, to open the possibility for asheikhato rule. I know it’ll take time and it won’t be easy to convince the elders or the conservatives, but I intend to start laying the groundwork.”

“I’m proud of you, Kaled. In just a few months, the improvement in the country’s economy is already visible.”

I nod. The unemployment rate has dropped significantly compared to the same period last year, and tourism is slowly returning to normal. “Then why ask me to end the investigation now, Father?”

“Odin Lykaios called me yesterday.”

“What?”

“He wanted to speak with you, actually. He said he tried your cell phone first, but when he couldn’t reach you, he called the palace. The landlines for international calls from the United States are being monitored at Amin’s request, which, by the way, was a very wise decision. So when they couldn’t find you, they transferred the call to me.”

I’d imagined Lykaios would try to contact me eventually, after my conversation with Elina. But speaking with my father? If he truly was the one who killed Naim...that’s surreal.

“What did he want?”

“He said he called because he’d just found out his wife had met with you in the United States, and that from now on, if we had any questions, we should direct them to him personally.”

“And did you ask him anything?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

To my absolute horror, my father covers his face with his hands and begins to cry.

The pain of seeing him like that is almost unbearable. I look away, silently cursing my brother for managing to make our family suffer even after his death.

“Because I already know the answer,” he says at last, regaining his composure. “It doesn’t matter that we can’t prove it. It was him.”

“And now?”

“Nothing. We’ll never know exactly what happened.”

“You sound too calm. What’s changed?”