Chapter 23 · Untitled Chapter

The heavy latch dropped into place with a dry, hollow strike, locking the outer voices beyond the thick timber. Behind us, the private wing held only the scent of warm amber and the slow, steady hum of the climate control keeping the Riyadh heat pressed against the glass.

Bandar did not turn immediately. He paused by the cedar console, his tall frame cutting a severe line in his crisp white thobe. His silver cufflinks caught the amber light of the corridor sconce as he checked the silent screen of his phone, then laid it face-down upon the console.

He had taken the accusation upon his own shoulders before the entire majlis, erasing my name from the ledger of shame and replacing it with his own. Yet the walls of my uncle’s estate were not thick enough to drown out the gravel crunching beneath heavy tires outside in the courtyard.

Twin beams of white light swept across the high transom windows above the private wing’s corridor, fracturing against the plaster moulding.

"Another car," I said, my voice low and level, though my fingers tightened instinctively against the dark fabric of my abaya.

"Sit, Noura," he said without looking up, his tone