By the time midweek came around, my anxiety about Sophia had risen to an all-time high. Just like she had stalked me, I dedicated much of my free time doing the same to her. I started with a simple Google search for her first and last name.

Americans seemed to write about every little thing when it came to their achievements. I found Sophia’s name in an article about her high school graduation, some early pieces of her work on an old blog website that hadn’t been updated in years, and a few awards at her university.

Where I fell into utter oblivion was when I searched for her articles at the Dallas Post. She’d been there for six years, and I read every single article that she ever published for them. Many were pieces about businesses and people in the Dallas area, but with each word, I could hear her voice as if she were reading them aloud to me. Even some of the drier topics had been more amusing with her style and turns of phrase.

I had thought she was an annoying woman who was only sent to cover a story on my father leaving the throne because she was pretty—a trick that media outlets played—but Sophia had the brains too. I figured that out eventually, but reading her talented pieces only made me like her more. She was the full package.

If only we’d met at a pub and I wasn’t a prince, our lives would be so different. Though, if I hadn’t been adopted by the royal family, I had no idea where I would have ended up. Probably on the streets somewhere or dead.

I shivered at the thought. I was lucky to have been brought into the kingdom as a prince. The fact that they had rescued me from poverty heightened the guilt I felt for turning my father down numerous times to take over as king. Here I was, a prince and a billionaire, heir to a kingdom, and I hid in the UK away from the people who loved me the most.

Abir wanted nothing to do with being king, so it was my duty to rise to the occasion to protect my brother. Still, I couldn’t agree. Not yet.

Father had given me a month to decide, so I still had time. Although as each day progressed, the decision became less and less my own. Father gave me the time as a courtesy, probably to get my affairs in order. I was sure that he would promote Maddox to my position at the head of the company and then whisk me away from the Western world to sit in his place while he had a cozy retirement.

From then on, I wouldn’t have much of a choice in anything I did. All of my decisions would be for the sake of the country and its people. My marriage would be arranged, and I’d be forced to have children with some strange woman.

Since living in the UK, the customs that I left back in Qatar seemed increasingly foreign, but they were something I would have to adhere to if I became king.

Maybe it was a good thing that Sophia had left. The idea of being with her gave me hope for something I would never be able to have. Choosing my own wife and doing whatever I wanted was my dream, but it was only that: a dream. My fate had been sealed since I was adopted into the family.

The only way I could show them how grateful I truly was would be to become the king. Father and Mother probably counted on that.

I was backed into a corner, and the only way I could go was forward.

I slammed my finger against my mouse to refresh the Dallas Post home page. Sophia’s name didn’t appear on any of the articles on the main page.

I shoved away from my desk, needing space from her, if only for a minute.

I had to forget her. She obviously wanted me to. It was the only way to move forward with my life. I couldn’t believe I fell for a woman I’d just met. That shit only happened in the movies and the romance novels that I’d spotted several of my employees reading during their lunch hour.

My phone rang, and I raced over to my desk to pick it up. Had Sophia changed her mind? Had she traveled back to England to talk things out or, dare I think, to be with me?

When I reached my phone, my happiness turned to dread. It was Mother, not Sophia.

I debated ignoring the phone call, not wanting to deal with her disapproval of Sophia and the idea of her already having another woman to set me up with.

Something deep inside me urged me to pick up the phone.

“Hello, Mother,” I said after picking up. A sniffling sound from the other end made my stomach turn to lead. “Mother, what’s wrong?”

She cleared her throat and spoke calmly. “I need you to come back home.”

“What is it?”

“Your Father is sick,” she said.

“If this is another ploy—”

“He’s sick, Luke. Dying sick. We need you back here as soon as possible.”

“What happened?”

“Apparently, he’s been sick for some time,” she said. “He wanted to save us the trouble of worrying about him. But now, it’s too late. He’s leaving us.” My mother was the strongest person I knew, other than my father. Her holding back tears as best as she could made me realize that whatever was ailing Father was serious.

“What do you need me to do?” I asked as ice ran through my veins.

“I need you to come home,” she said. “That’s all.”

“Okay,” I said. “I’ll schedule the jet for this afternoon.”

“Oh, and Luke,” she said. “Don’t bring Sophia.”

I ground my teeth together. She couldn’t resist throwing in her two cents about my “girlfriend.” I didn’t want the weekend Sophia and I spent together to go to waste, so I said, “Why not? You need to accept that she is a part of our—”

“Don’t say ‘family,’” she said. “She’s not a part of our family. Father needs his real family right beside him. This isn’t some show.”

By her words, it almost sounded like she knew that Sophia and I had played them. Or was she hoping? Heaven forbid I chose someone for myself and was happy.

“Fine,” I said. “I won’t bring her.” It wasn’t as if I knew where she was. If she hadn’t posted the article about Father and his succession yet, maybe she hadn’t returned to the Post. Though, this news would get around soon enough.

“I love you, son,” she said and then hung up the phone.

Tossing all thoughts of Sophia aside, I placed my phone on the desk and rubbed my temples. Father was sick? He seemed well enough over the weekend. Mother said he was hiding this from all of us. Why did he think he needed to? Was that why he was pressing for me to decide to become king?

Heat moved behind my eyes, and I squeezed them closed. I grabbed the landline and pressed the button for Justine’s extension.

“Mr. Walters?” Justine’s voice asked over the speaker.

It took much more strength than usual for me to speak to her. “I need a flight to Qatar today.”

The sound of her fingers clicking over her keyboard sounded over the line. “Right away, sir. Can I do anything else for you?”

“No,” I said. “Just the jet. Thank you.”

“Not a problem, sir. I will email you confirmation once I receive word from the pilot.”

I hung up the phone and stared at it. The flight was long, and I hoped Father’s condition wasn’t as dire as my imagination conjured up.

I turned off my computer and gathered my things. I would be able to do some work on the plane, but I knew I’d be too distracted to get any real work done. That was why I had Maddox.

Since I wasn’t sure about the degree of Father’s illness, when I entered Maddox’s office, I was as blunt as possible. Sugarcoating it wasn’t going to do me any good, especially when the fate of the company might very well rest in Maddox’s hands. If Father passed away, then I wouldn’t have a month to decide. I’d have to take over as king. The idea of that pooled in my stomach like molasses.

“All right?” Maddox asked, looking up from his computer screen.

“No,” I said.

He cocked his head to the side, and his eyes turned to slits. “What’s going on, mate? You look like someone stole your dog.”

I swallowed. “My father is sick.”

“Shit, mate.”

“Yeah,” I said, staring at the floor. “I’m headed to the palace now. I need you to take over all of the operations.”

“Not a problem,” he said, standing up. He crossed the room and clapped a hand on my shoulder. “Don’t worry about a thing. Take as much time as you need.”

I drew in a breath. That was the problem. I was sure this would take all of the time away from this company. I’d built it up over the years, and I was being ripped away from it quicker than I wanted.

I couldn’t think about that. Father was my number one priority.

“Thanks,” I said. “I’ll be in contact while I’m there. Let me know if you need anything.”

“We’re going to be all right,” he said, squeezing my shoulder. “Tell your father I said hello.”

I nodded, afraid that if I said anything, my voice might crack and I would break down in the middle of his office.

I wasn’t the crying type, but the whole situation around the kingdom had weighed on me. Now that I knew the reason for Father pressuring me, I was so angry with him for not telling me right away. I would have come home in a second and fulfilled my duty. I would never have met Sophia and never experienced what it might look like to be with her.

Now my mind was jumbled, and I was being forced into becoming a king while knowing what I would be missing once I took the throne. Had my father given me time to think about it because he wanted me to have last experiences, or had he thought he had longer to live?

As I left Maddox’s office, I couldn’t get it out of my head that even Father had been surprised by how quickly his health was declining. He was a proud and strong man. If he was alerting mother and me that he was sick, maybe it was time for him to leave us.

I waited until I reached my car before I let any tears slip from my eyes. Arguing with my parents wasn’t anything new, but I wanted the opportunity to do it with them as long as I could. I recalled how upset I’d been with my father when he came to bring me home two weeks ago. Why had I taken those moments for granted? Why hadn’t I asked him how he was doing like other fathers and sons did? Instead, I had been so focused on refusing the kingdom that I hadn’t been paying much attention to anything other than myself.

This was a kick in the ass, and I knew what I needed to do.

An email came through my phone from Justine, giving me the time of my flight to Qatar.

I put my car into gear and headed off toward my flat. I had almost two hours to pack and put my life in order before going to the palace. Would I ever see my flat again, or would I be forced to send someone there to pack it up and sell it for me? Was I about to become king of a Middle Eastern country in the span of a few days? I wasn’t sure if I was ready for such a responsibility, but like so many other parts of my life, I didn’t have a choice.