Page 51 of The Billionaire's Timed Wife

“I don’t believe men actually enjoy shopping,” she says, teasingly.

I can’t deny it. “I wanted to make sure you get everything you like. There’s no limit to what you desire.”

I still haven’t given her the jewelry I bought. I sensed it would be too much all at once. I’ve also commissioned exclusive sets from one of the most renowned jewelers in the world. As my wife, she’ll attend countless events, and I won’t have her feeling lesser than anyone else.

High society can be cruel, even more so in Europe than at home.

“I don’t need that much. Jazmina said we’d do a full trousseau. Isn’t that too much?”

“You’ll be my wife, and as you’ll quickly realize, I’m required to attend many functions. I want you by my side, and I want you to feel comfortable in what you wear.” I tense as I say it. Diplomacy has never been my strength, but I don’t want to offend her.

To my surprise, she takes the initiative and clasps my hand. “You’ll have to guide me at first. It’s not natural for me to attend lavish parties. Even when I went to your family’s events at the palace, I felt comfortable because it was our people. I don’t know how your European friends will receive me.”

“There aren’t that many of them. The ones who matter, the ones truly close to me, you’ll meet soon. They’re friends from my school years in Switzerland. We’ve stayed close ever since.”

“Tell me about them. All the same age?”

“No. But around mine—thirty-five, give or take. We met under unusual circumstances. We were teenagers, not exactly eager to let people in, and we formed a closed group. Over time, we never really let anyone else in, almost like a silent agreement.”

She turns in her seat to look at me. “How mysterious.”

I grin, shaking my head, loving her subtle wit. “Not even close. We just liked to enjoy life to the fullest. The only suspense we ever had as adults was deciding where in the world the next party would be.”

“Must be nice, growing up with so many friends. I remember your father saying you didn’t come home often. You still don’t, do you? I barely saw you.”

“You were paying attention to when I came and went from Rheadur?” I tease, more out of mischief than pride.

“I always thought you were very mysterious...and intimidating. I used to watch you from a distance.”

Her honest answer disarms and humbles me.

Adeela doesn’t play games.

“My mother died when I was a teenager,” I admit, returning her honesty. “I missed her terribly. Rheadur reminded me too much of her.”

“I’m sorry,” she says softly, squeezing my hand.

“It’s been a long time, and still, sometimes it feels like yesterday.”

She nods slowly. “Do you get along with your father’s other wives?”

“No,” I answer curtly, unwilling to get into how much I despise Eiza, Naim’s mother. “And you?” I redirect. I hate dwelling on the past, especially when it involves my mother. Remembering those months after her death, when my father was just a shadow of himself, a man already half gone, still twists something inside me.

“They hated my mother for being American,” she says, “and I guess, by extension, they learned to hate me too. My father...He never stopped them.”

“Stoppedthem?”

She shrugs, trying to make it sound trivial, but I can see how much it still hurts.

I hadn’t fully understood what Adeela had endured until I spoke with Arif over the video call. He doesn’t love his daughter. There’s a bitterness in his tone whenever he mentions her.

“Jealousy and rivalry between stepmothers and daughters are common, I suppose,” she continues. “But what happened went beyond that. They could barely stand to look at me. Except for Faiza—she was kind to me. The only reason my life wasn’t worse was because Jazmina took me under her wing.”

That confirms what I already suspected: her father didn’t just want to marry her off; he wanted to punish her.

The night I spoke with Arif, I took Adeela to dinner and told her he already knew about our engagement and that her mother would live in Rheadur. She seemed surprised he’d agreed, but she didn’t question it.

What I didn’t tell her was that I left him no choice.