“What?”
“He wasn’t born in Sintarah; he was born in the neighboring Emirate, Rheadur. Your father had an affair with his mother, but from what I found out, he didn’t know she’d gotten pregnant. The woman died during childbirth, and the boy was left orphaned. Someone must have tipped your father off, and he brought the boy to his country.”
I fall silent, absorbing the information, and like an intricate puzzle, everything starts to make sense.
That’s why my father always protected him. Adil was adopted by a good family; he’s the son of one of my father’s former ministers. The former Sheikh Zayn also encouraged our friendship and told me that when I became the leader of our people, I should consider choosing Adil to be one of my advisors.
What my father had no idea of was that he was raising a psychopath right under our noses.
“You must be surprised.”
“I am, yes, but that changes nothing. Adil became an orphan and perhaps grew up frustrated that my father didn’t acknowledge him as a legitimate son, but he enjoyed all the privileges that only the very rich children in my country have access to. All his actions were solely motivated by hatred. He almost got my wife killed.” I take a deep breath because just saying that tears me apart inside. “He may have killed my child.”
“I thought Madeline was fine.”
“She is, but she just got pregnant, and the doctor will only be sure about the baby’s wellbeing after the third blood test to check hormone levels.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Let me know if I can help with anything.”
“Thank you.” I turn to face my brothers. “Adil is our father’s son.”
“Our brother?” Irfan asks.
“No. Our father’s son. He lost the right to call us brothers the moment he tried to kidnap my wife.”
I look at the man whom I might know better than Irfan and Zarif, and I conclude that it’s a good thing my brothers came with me because I honestly don’t know if I would control myself if we were alone.
“Why?” I ask simply.
We’re sitting in an interrogation room with a table between us and him.
His face is impassive as always. Anyone looking at him from the outside wouldn’t think he’s about to face the death penalty. Yes, because that will be his fate. Just as in Rheadur, this is the punishment for anyone attempting to take the life of a member of the Royal Family, and although Madeline hasn’t married me yet, she carries the heir to the throne in her body.
“How much do you know?” Adil asks.
“I know that my father was your father as well. If you’re expecting that shit to move me, think again. You betrayed me not once but twice.”
He dismisses it with a wave of his hand, as if to say, ‘that’s nonsense’. “As for Hiba, I did you a favor. It didn’t take much effort to get her to spread her legs.”
“You bastard!” Zarif stands up, but Irfan holds him back. “She was a girl. Seventeen years old, and you seduced her. Not only the promised bride of your Sheikh but a teenage girl.”
Adil remains unaffected. “A girl who wanted to have sex. Kamal didn’t care about her. I was available.”
“You were responsible for her death, you scum!” my brother continues, outraged. “Not just hers but your child’s too.”
“What did you expect me to do? I told her to keep the pregnancy a secret. I couldn’t have married the Sheikh’s promised bride even if I had wanted to—and believe me, I didn’t, because she was pretty mediocre in bed—so I told her to hide the pregnancy and pretend it was Kamal’s . . . to try and rush the wedding.”
“But your plan backfired when I found out about the affair.”
He nods, confirming. “I am not responsible for her death. I didn’t order her to take her own life.”
“And what about Madeline?”
He smiles. “Ah, beautiful Madeline. Yes, I can say I’m guilty of that one. It’s a very long story, so I’ll simplify everything: I wanted you to suffer. I’m the eldest son. The title of Sheikh should have been rightfully mine, but because our father didn’t acknowledge me, I had to live in the shadows my whole life while you basked in all the glory. If I could never be the Sheikh, then you would never be happy. It seemed fair to me. I won’t deny that seeing you fall in love with the American added extra spice to it. I spent sleepless nights imagining your despair when I took you away from her, never to see her or your child again, without bodies to bury.”
At first, hatred spreads in my veins. I want to kill him with my bare hands. Snap his neck and hear it crack under my fingers. Cut his body open with a dagger from his chin to his groin.
It doesn’t matter that I received an excellent education. Inside me, there’s still the influence of my ancestors, those who never forgave an enemy.
