Page 1 of The Prince's Secret Daughter
Chapter 1
Raj Al-Sintra stood at the window, his jaw tight, eyes locked on the figure below. The rain lashed against the glass, the dull glow of flickering streetlights casting shadows over the street, but none of it could distract him. There was only her. He’d felt it before—a pull, deep in his gut—a magnetism he couldn’t ignore. And yet... it couldn’t be her.
His muscles tensed, a low growl of frustration building in his chest. He leaned in closer, the chill of the glass biting into his skin as his grip on the windowsill tightened. His focus narrowed to the woman weaving through the crowd, her movements all too familiar, yet just out of reach. The sight of her—her silhouette, the way she carried herself—struck a chord deep within him, an electric jolt that tore through the cold indifference he’d wrapped himself in. Ithadto be her.
Damn it.
His pulse hammered in his temples, the realization creeping up on him like a silent storm. She had disappeared. She had left, vanished into the world without a trace, andhehad been the one left in the ruins. He wasn’t the type to waste time looking back. But this? This was different. His entire body was bristling with a surge of old anger, like a wolf sensing prey, the years of suppressed rage boiling to the surface.
Why?The question hit him like a slap.Why now?
Raj’s chest heaved, the weight of the unanswered questions suffocating him. He didn’t do weakness. Didn’t do indecision. He was a man who took control, who didn’t wait forthings to fall into his lap. But there was something about her—something that still twisted at the core of him. He could almost hear her laugh. It rang in his ears, like it had never stopped haunting him. That sound that had driven him to the edge of madness before. That laugh. It was so infuriatingly perfect.
The anger built in him, a fire that threatened to scorch everything in its path.
Raj’s jaw clenched so hard it felt like it might crack. He’d spent years building a wall around himself, making sure there was nothing left to hurt him, no one left to wound him. He’d built empires, crushed enemies, but this woman? She’d gotten under his skin in a way nothing and no one had before.
He watched her, his eyes narrowing as the rain battered the window. His muscles coiled like a predator preparing to strike. That familiar rhythm to her steps, that same damn grace. It made him feel something raw, something that threatened the cold, calculated control he’d worked so hard to perfect.
A muscle twitched in his jaw. He was no longer just watching her. He was studying her, analyzing every detail of her—her figure, the way her hair caught the breeze, the way she moved through the crowd like she owned the damn world. Raj’s thoughts turned violent, his anger darkening into something dangerous.
His grip on the windowsill tightened, his knuckles white, a battle of rage and desire waging inside him. Every damn detail of her, every moment they’d spent together, was seared into his mind, like a brand that never healed. The storm inside of him boiled over, threatening to break free.
This wasn’t just a reunion. It was war. And Raj was ready to fight.
"Nazim!" Raj's voice cut through the silence of the room, low and sharp.
The head of security appeared instantly, a shadow materializing at his side. "Yes, Your Highness?"
Raj's gaze remained fixed on the woman down the street, his expression hardening. "Find out everything you can about her," he commanded, the words laced with a simmering fury.
Nazim glanced briefly at the sidewalk before nodding. "I'm on it."
Raj didn’t move, didn’t shift his focus as Nazim’ footsteps receded, his voice a low murmur into the radio. But Raj couldn’t tear his eyes away from her.Helen.
Five years had passed, but the weight of her presence was immediate, suffocating. He didn’t even know her last name—they hadn’t gotten that far. A bitter laugh almost escaped him. She had vanished before there was time for such things. Yet despite the years, the space between them, Raj could still recall every damned thing about her.
He remembered the way she hated broccoli, loved pizza, how she preferred “wimpy” beer instead of a stronger IPA…and how her eyes shimmered when she laughed. Her taste in drink didn’t matter then, not compared to the way she could twist his desire with the slightest touch.
But the softness was fleeting. His gaze sharpened, cold as steel. He remembered the little things too. The way her smile could dissolve the tightness in his chest, how her laugh seemed to loosen something inside him, even when he had no idea why she was laughing in the first place. He remembered how the mere brush of his fingertips against the backs of her legs made her shiver, how a kiss from him could wipe away every ounce of her usual shyness. And the way she hated having her feet tickled—the way her body stiffened at the thought of it.
He even remembered the way she had suddenly shifted, wanting a family, a life he hadn’t expected from her. Now, as he watched her, there was an entirely new layer to the memories. As he watched, Raj noticed the little girl, bundled against the miserable weather, clutching Helen’s hand. The sight of them together hit Raj like a physical blow.
He hadn’t been prepared for Helen to have moved on with her life.
Raj’s eyes narrowed, his jaw hardening as his pulse quickened. His emotions, once buried under layers of carefully constructed indifference, began to churn. He hated the cold. Chicago’s frigid winters made his skin crawl; the damp, bitter air gnawed at his patience. But he was here for business, the city a necessary evil, its bleakness a fitting backdrop to the storm inside him.
While Helen disappeared around the corner, Raj stood frozen, the battle inside him intensifying. Was he furious that she was moving on, that she could walk so calmly through life while he’d been left behind, still haunted by the wreckage of their past? Or was he elated, simply to see her again after years of searching for her in every corner of the earth?
His chest tightened, the air around him suddenly thick and stifling. He wanted to rage, to tear through the world until he got answers, but something deeper—something far more dangerous—kept him still. She hadn’t just moved on. She’d left him in the ashes of a fire that had burned too hot for too long.
Chapter 2
"Can I get a pony?" Angela asked, her small voice filled with hopeful innocence.
Helen Vittorio glanced down at her daughter, her heart melting at the sight of the four-year-old’s wide eyes. "A pony? Where would we keep a pony? We live in a two-bedroom condo," she said with a smile, trying to keep the logic intact.
Angela tilted her head, her eyes sparkling as she splashed through the puddles with joyful abandon. "He could sleep with me! Like a puppy!" she suggested, the idea clearly full of promise in her mind.
