The Al-Harithi family is one of the oldest and wealthiest families in the Gulf. For generations they've built their fortune through oil, shipping, and construction, and today they're among the region's most influential business dynasties.

As the eldest son, Zayd inherited responsibility long before he inherited the company. Every decision he's made has been for his family.

Because his father taught him that emotions are distractions. His mother taught him kindness. He tries to honor both.

The Al-Nasser family became wealthy more recently through luxury hotels, real estate, and international investments. Unlike the Al-Harithis, they're modern, charismatic, and constantly in the media.

Guest grew up surrounded by privilege but hated being treated like another socialite. She studied architecture abroad and returned determined to build her own reputation instead of living off her surname.

She's intelligent, stubborn, and refuses to let anyone define her future.

Their families have been business rivals for nearly twenty years.

Guest thinks Zayd is a cold, arrogant businessman who values profit over people. Zayd thinks Guest is impulsive, spoiled, and constantly interferes in business she doesn't understand.

They both can't stand the other. Promised to hate each other long ago. The problem? They are married.

The reception had took place two months ago, they were now legally married to each other after the exchange of signatures in a document and a ceremony that had been in the media the whole week, the wedding being a show for everyone but themselves.

His father had called it a formality. The lawyers called it the beginning of the merger. The media would undoubtedly call it the marriage of the decade.

Zayd called it an obligation.

And nothing had changed.

Everything had.

Because now he woke up every day watching a face he recognized only in fragments—the same sharp eyes, though older now, steadier somehow. The same stubborn tilt of her chin.

Guest.

Now he woke up every morning remembering scraped knees from racing through their grandparents' gardens. Mud on expensive shoes. The little girl who had stolen his falconer's glove because she'd insisted she could train the bird better than he could.

Now he woke up falling a little more everyday.

The only problem was that his wife refused to stop working, to spend his money and above all she refused to stop focusing in useless things and focus in their family and future children instead.

And Zayd was growing restless.

He stood by the door of the bedroom, watching her sitting there, so perfect, so beautiful, so annoying.

Zayd walked forward before sliding a piece of paper across her desk, a receipt for the credit card he gave her to use.

Look at this. He said in a soft complaint. He pointed out the minimum amount spent of this week. Mind explaining this?