Hamdan had a plan.
Which was, by definition, a bad idea.
His plans usually involved fast cars, reckless dares, or elaborate pranks on his brother. But this time, the stakes were higher. This time, the goal wasn't just chaos for fun—it was chaos with a purpose.
That purpose? Making sure Lin Wei remembered exactly who she belonged to.
Not that she belonged to him, exactly. But she worked for him. She fussed at him. She quoted rules at him. And he'd gotten used to her being within arm's reach.
And now Omar was sniffing around with his poetry and soulful eyes.
Hamdan scowled at the memory. Poetry. Honestly. What was next, serenades under her window?
Not on his watch.
The first step of Hamdan's "territory-marking operation" was small but bold: every time Lin Wei walked through the palace corridors, he appeared at her side.
If she was heading to the kitchens, he was suddenly "hungry."If she went to the gardens, he was "admiring the roses."If she dared to enter the library, he was already in her chair, pretending to read.
Lin Wei noticed. Oh, she definitely noticed.
"Are you stalking me?" she demanded one afternoon as she tried to arrange a vase in the palace gallery.
"I'm supervising," Hamdan said smoothly.
"You're hovering."
"Protectively," he corrected.
"You're ridiculous," she muttered.
"And yet," he said with a smirk, "you're smiling."
She wasn't smiling, not really. Okay, maybe a little. But mostly she was plotting how to hit him with the flower vase.
Step two of his plan involved a very public gesture: he had palace staff deliver Lin Wei's meals to the same table as his in the dining hall.
She glared at him over breakfast one morning. "Why am I sitting here?"
"Efficiency," Hamdan said, buttering his toast. "Less walking for the servants."
Lin Wei pointed at the cavernous dining hall with thirty empty tables. "Less walking? There are thirty tables right there!"
Hamdan shrugged. "But only one with me at it."
Before she could retort, Omar entered the hall. He spotted them immediately and gave a knowing smile.
Hamdan almost choked on his toast.
But the true disaster didn't strike until the third step of his plan.
It began innocently enough. Lin Wei was in one of the guest salons, dusting shelves lined with antiques, when Omar appeared at the doorway.
"Still working?" he asked, leaning casually against the frame.
"Always," Lin Wei replied without looking up.
He stepped inside, holding something behind his back. "Then allow me to make your work lighter."
She frowned. "How—"
He revealed a single sketchbook, leather-bound. "I had this prepared for you. Better than loose papers."
Her eyes widened. "For me?"
"You mentioned art. A true artist deserves proper tools."
Lin Wei hesitated, then accepted it carefully. "Thank you. This is… kind."
Before Omar could say more, a familiar voice barked from the doorway:
"What's going on here?"
Hamdan stormed in, eyes narrowing at the sight of the sketchbook in Lin Wei's hands.
"She was working," Omar said smoothly. "I offered her something useful."
"Useful?" Hamdan snorted. "You call poetry and sketchbooks useful?"
"Yes," Omar said calmly. "They nurture the soul."
Hamdan crossed his arms. "I prefer things that nurture reality."
"Like Rolexes in potato chips?" Lin Wei muttered.
Omar chuckled. Hamdan scowled.
And that was when the door opened again.
A young woman entered, gliding with the kind of effortless grace that made the room itself seem to hold its breath. She was stunning—tall, poised, with features as fine as carved ivory. Her dark hair was arranged in a simple but elegant braid, her gown flowing like starlight.
Omar's expression softened. "Ah. Lin Wei, Hamdan—this is my niece, Princess Leila."
Leila bowed her head gracefully. "It's an honor." Her voice was melodic, her Arabic accent soft but clear.
Hamdan blinked. "Niece?"
"Distant," Omar clarified. "Her mother is my cousin. She is visiting from abroad."
Leila's gaze shifted to Hamdan—and in that instant, her eyes lit up.
Lin Wei saw it. Omar saw it. Hamdan, blissfully oblivious, tried to pretend he didn't see it.
But the truth was obvious: Princess Leila had just fallen headfirst into infatuation.
The four of them stood there, caught in a silence so thick it might have been painted onto the walls.
Lin Wei clutched the sketchbook awkwardly. Hamdan cleared his throat. Omar's smile was maddeningly serene. Leila's eyes never left Hamdan, shining like twin lanterns.
It was the kind of moment novels called destined. In reality, it felt more like a train wreck in slow motion.
Finally, Leila spoke. "Prince Hamdan… I've heard so much about you."
Hamdan coughed. "All lies, I assure you."
"Then I look forward to discovering the truth," she said, her smile radiant.
Lin Wei rolled her eyes so hard she thought they might get stuck.
Omar, of course, noticed. His lips twitched, fighting a laugh.
Hamdan, meanwhile, shifted uncomfortably, suddenly hyper-aware of Lin Wei standing beside him. For the first time in his life, he was caught between admiration and expectation.
And he hated it.
The awkwardness might have passed quietly, but fate had a cruel sense of humor.
Leila stepped closer to Hamdan, brushing his arm lightly as she admired a vase on the table. At the same moment, Omar casually reached out to adjust the sketchbook in Lin Wei's hands, his fingers brushing hers.
And so, in one absurd tableau, the four of them froze:
Leila gazing up at Hamdan with open admiration.
Hamdan staring straight ahead, trying not to combust.
Omar's hand lingering a fraction too long near Lin Wei's.
Lin Wei glaring at everyone.
The air crackled.
Then—CRASH.
Lin Wei's elbow, in her attempt to pull back, knocked the vase off the table.
Hamdan lunged to catch it, but so did Omar. They collided, both grabbing the vase midair, nearly toppling onto each other.
Leila gasped. Lin Wei groaned.
And somewhere in the palace, a servant peeked in, took one look at the scene—two princes wrestling a vase, two women glaring—and silently backed out.
In the end, the vase survived. The dignity of everyone involved did not.
Hamdan set the vase down with exaggerated care. "See? Controlled. Orderly."
"You nearly dropped it on your foot," Lin Wei said dryly.
"I saved it!" he protested.
"I saved it," Omar corrected calmly.
Leila clapped her hands lightly. "How gallant, both of you."
Hamdan muttered something under his breath that Lin Wei was very sure wasn't gallant.
That night, as Lin Wei returned to her room, she flipped open the sketchbook Omar had given her. The blank pages stared back, waiting.
She sighed.
"Great," she whispered. "Now I've got poetry princes, jealous princes, and a princess with heart eyes. What's next? A royal talent show?"
Outside in the corridor, Hamdan leaned against the wall, unseen. His arms were crossed, his scowl dark.
For the first time in his life, Prince Hamdan Al Rashid had competition—from every direction.
And he was not amused.