Chapter 33 · Chapter 33

The attendants stood in a disciplined row along the arched corridor, their eyes lowered to the geometric weave of the wool runners as I passed. In my right hand, the leather-bound ledger rested without trembling. Its heavy calfskin was cool against my skin, containing within its numbered pages every stage once divided among anonymous women—every claim, every asset, and every recorded right now bound under a single title.

None of the staff dared to look up or inquire. A quiet gesture of acknowledgment was all that marked their presence. Behind me, Turki’s footfalls were steady and unhurried against the polished marble, maintaining the measured distance demanded when walking toward the public wing of an estate.

He wore his pristine white thobe without a crease, his bisht draped over his arm, carrying that silent authority that required no spoken command to part the household.

Two elderly men from the secondary council waited near the heavy carved doors of the main hall, their faces set in the rigid expectation of another prolonged debate over lineage and proxies. When their gazes dropped to the ledger exposed in my grip, their postures stiffened.