Page 43 of The Sheikh's Secret Heir

“Sometimes, people don’t understand things, and it makes them… frustrated,” I say, choosing my words carefully. One day, I’ll tell him everything. Right now, though, he’s too young. Far too young. “But we’re safe here, you and me. That’s all that matters.”

Ali nods, accepting the explanation with the trust only a child can give. He returns to his observation post, his little forehead once again pressed against the cool glass, leaving a smudge on the pane.

I stand, watching him watch the world, the tempest of betrayal still raging within me. Tara’s face, once a source of warmth, now casts a shadow over every corner of this palace. The pain of her deceit is a splinter lodged deep in my heart, throbbing with each beat, a constant reminder that nothing can truly shield you from betrayal.

But I push that aside, lock it away where Ali can’t see it, because it’s him I need to protect, him I need to be strong for. The lies and the hurt are mine to bear, not his. And so, I draw a breath, straighten my spine, and prepare to face the siege, a king in a crumbling castle.

“I have something for you,” I tell him.

His face lights up. “What?”

“Go check in the gaming room.”

He sprints across the floor, and I run behind him, glad for Amina sending in the rush order this morning. I wanted something to distract Ali from the day, should it get hairy for him, and I hope this small effort has done enough.

“What is it?” He searches the game room.

“This.” I pick up the new video game — one I’m sure he’ll love — sitting next to the console. He snatches the case from my hands and darts toward the console.

I help him get the game set up, then watch him on a few rounds of the first level. I’m not really seeing anything he is doing, though, my thoughts everywhere else. I’m well aware that I can’t hide out in my house forever. I should call my lawyers. My publicist. Make plans to control this PR disaster.

And what of my broken heart? Who will mend that? Who will put the pieces back together?

My gaze drops to the floor, knowing that task is solely up to me. Tara’s actions have left me crushed, the lowest I’ve ever been — directly after experiencing the high of my life. How does a person even move on after something like this?

The sound of someone in the doorway makes me turn around. Amina is there, doing her best to hide the worry on her face. She raises her eyebrows at me, silently asking me to talk. I sigh, knowing that I can’t hide from her forever, and push myself to standing.

Ali doesn’t even notice me stepping into the hallway, so engrossed is he in his new game.

“Faiz…” Amins twists her hands. “Who could have done this? I don’t?—”

“I already know. It was Tara.”

Her eyes widen in shock. “Tara? No… She wouldn’t?—”

“Wouldn’t what?” My words come out harsher than intended. “Betray us? Leak information to the press?” I shake my head, trying to dismiss her misplaced faith. “We thought we knew her, but clearly we didn’t.”

“Faiz,” Amina sighs, her hand reaching out as if to touch my arm before she thinks better of it. “Sometimes people surprise us, yes, but not always in the way we think.”

Her words hang between us, an unspoken plea for reason. But reason left the building the moment those headlines splashed across every screen in the country, dragging my son’s existence into the limelight.

“Surprises are luxuries we cannot afford right now,” I say. I have a disaster on my hands here and no clue of how to properly deal with it.

Amina nods, her expression unreadable, and excuses herself, leaving me alone with my turmoil. I pull out my phone, the screen still lit with a flood of missed calls and messages. With a sigh, I get to work.

My lawyer answers on the first ring, his voice steady and professional. “Faiz. Glad that you’re finally calling me back.”

“This was a misunderstanding,” I bark into the receiver, pacing the length of the hallway.

There’s a pause. “Is it a misunderstanding?”

“Does it matter?”

Another pause. “Understood. It was a misunderstanding. There is no secret son.”

His words make me wince, but it’s the phrase of my own design. I am the person who brought us to this place, and it doesn’t matter whether I like it or not. This is the way that things must be.

“You do know this won’t make things disappear,” my lawyer continues. “We need to strategize?—”

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