Page 7 of The Defiant Wife

"He's here."

I sigh, "Already?"

She nods. I groan dramatically, making her laugh. "You've known he was coming for two weeks." She bemuses.

"That doesn't mean I have to be happy about it."

"You don't even know him."

"I know enough."

"Diya."

I raise a hand. "No."

She folds her arms. "You're being judgmental."

I gasp in mock offense. "Me? Never."

"You're literally judging him before meeting him."

"Because I know exactly how rich people operate."

Her expression flattens. "There it is."

"What is it?"

"The thing."

I narrow my eyes. "What thing?"

"The rich people rant."

"It's not a rant."

"It is absolutely a rant."

I point at her accusingly. "You don't get an opinion because your parents actually loved you." I know it's rude but Manisha knows me, understands where I am coming from.

She bursts out laughing.

I hate when she does that. Mostly because she's right.

The truth is, when the call first came from the Shekhawat family, I thought someone was joking. The Shekhawats don't exactly need introductions. Everyone knows who they are. TheRoyal family. Business empire. Ridiculous wealth. Ridiculous influence. Ridiculous everything.

Then came the second surprise.

Not only were they interested in supporting the NGO. Apparently Prince Veeraj Singh Shekawat himself would be working here for an entire month.

A whole month.

Helping.

Volunteering.

Participating.

I had nearly dropped my phone. Not because I was impressed. Because I wasn't. Rich people love charity when cameras are involved. The timing alone screamed PR. But money is money. Funding is funding. And if a prince wanted to spend a month pretending to care about social work while helping my children receive resources they desperately needed—Fine.