Episode 22

The air in the living room was so thick you could cut it with a knife. Emily, hidden in the shadows of the landing, held her breath, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. Below, the hushed tones had escalated, the polite veneer cracking to reveal the raw tension beneath. Her father’s voice, usually so steady, was a tight, controlled rumble. “I’ve already told you, Mr. Al-Fayed. Emily will not be taken away.”

The silence that followed was heavy, punctuated only by the ticking of the grandfather clock in the hall. Then, the tall man’s voice, cold and sharp as broken glass, cut through the quiet. “You dare deny His Royal Highness? You, an infidel, presume to dictate to a prince?” Emily flinched. Infidel. The word hung in the air, an accusation, a judgment. She could feel the heat of her father’s anger radiating upwards, a palpable force. He slammed his fist down on the coffee table, the sound cracking through the tense atmosphere. “I am not an infidel, sir. I am a father. And my daughter is not a possession to be bargained for or claimed.” The tall man scoffed, a sound devoid of any warmth. “You speak of possessions? Prince Tariq desires her. That is all that matters.” Emily squeezed her eyes shut, a silent plea escaping her lips. This was not how she had imagined her life unfolding. This was a world away from school dances and study groups. This was a battle of wills, and she was the prize.