All Chapters of A Twist In My Marriage Deal With The CEO : Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

As we walked into the grand living room of Rami’s parents’ house, I could feel the weight of the moment pressing down on me. The air was thick with anticipation, and the room was filled with familiar faces—Rami’s mother, his uncles, cousins, all seated in a semi-circle, their expressions a mix of curiosity and seriousness. Rami’s hand was warm in mine, a silent reassurance as we took our seats among the family. I glanced at him, and he gave me a small, encouraging smile, though I could tell he was just as nervous as I was. Something big was about to happen.Mr. Al Nassar, Rami’s father, stood at the center of the room, his posture commanding yet calm. He cleared his throat, and the room fell silent. All eyes were on him. My heart raced as I waited for him to speak, my mind racing with possibilities. What could this be about? The big Event we had attended with the prince just days ago still lingered in my thoughts—the grandeur, the conversations, the unspoken tension. I had felt then t

The morning sun filters through the windows of Rami’s beach house, casting a warm glow over the chaos we’ve created. Balloons, streamers, and boxes of decorations are scattered everywhere. I’m holding a string of fairy lights, trying to untangle them, while Rami paces the room, his phone pressed to his ear. His jaw is tight, and I can tell by the way he’s muttering under his breath that his father isn’t answering—again.“He’s not picking up,” Rami says, finally lowering the phone. His voice is calm, but I can see the frustration in the way his shoulders tense. “I’ve called him five times already. I even texted him. He knows it’s her birthday. He has to come.”I set the lights down and walk over to him, placing a hand on his arm. “He’ll come, Rami. He has to. It’s your mom. He wouldn’t miss this.” I say it with more confidence than I feel. His father has always been... unpredictable. But today isn’t about him. It’s about her.Rami sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I just don’t g

I stood beside Rami, my hand resting lightly on his arm, as we navigated the sea of elegantly dressed guests. Tonight was important—his father’s first public speech as the prince’s new advisor, and the charity event was the perfect stage for him to solidify his reputation. But I could feel the tension in Rami’s posture, the way his eyes scanned the room, alert and cautious. He had warned me earlier about his father’s rivals, how they would stop at nothing to undermine him. I hadn’t realized just how far they might go until the man approached me.He was unassuming, dressed in a tailored suit, with a polite smile and a small notebook in hand. “Excuse me, Miss Dema?” he said, his voice smooth and practiced. “I’m with Society Today I was hoping to feature you in an upcoming issue. You’re quite the rising star, and our readers would love to know more about you.”I blinked, surprised. A magazine feature? Me? I glanced at Rami, who was momentarily distracted by a passing acquaintance. The ma

I sat in the sitting room, my hands folded neatly in my lap, trying to steady the nervous flutter in my chest. The afternoon light filtered through the tall windows, casting a warm glow over the ornate furniture. My father-in-law had insisted that this woman, Salima, would be the perfect guide to help me navigate the complexities of the royal court. I trusted his judgment, but the weight of what lay ahead pressed heavily on me. I wasn’t just a newcomer to this world; I was an outsider, and every misstep felt like it could cost me dearly.The sound of footsteps echoed in the hallway, and I straightened my posture instinctively. The door opened, and there she was—Salima. She carried herself with an air of quiet confidence, her posture upright but not rigid, her gaze sharp but not unkind. She was older than I had imagined, her hair streaked with silver, but there was a vitality in her movements that belied her age.“Good afternoon,” she said, her voice calm and measured. “I am Salima. Yo

I’ve been watching Rami closely these past few days, and something feels off. He’s not himself. The man I know is calm, patient, and thoughtful, but lately, he’s been a storm of emotions—irritable, moody, and quick to anger. It’s like living with a stranger, and it’s starting to worry me. This morning, I heard him yelling at the maid from the kitchen. His voice was sharp, cutting through the quiet of the house like a knife. I rushed in to see what was wrong, only to find him berating her for putting sugar in his coffee. “I don’t take sugar anymore! How many times do I have to say it?” he snapped, his face red with frustration. The poor maid stood there, trembling, holding the offending cup. I tried to intervene, reminding him that he’s always taken sugar in his coffee, but he just brushed me off. “I’ve stopped consuming sugar lately,” he muttered, as if that explained everything. But it didn’t. Not to me. Later, I found him in the garden, pacing back and forth in front of the flowe