The Rich Life

39

I lay sprawled across our bed, "Adam, what's your blood type?" I asked curiously, rustling through the papers of Francesca's and Zane's files. I had to find one inconsistency. And I had to hit it hard enough so that her entire act would crumble.

Something wasn't matching up. Adam looked away from his laptop screen and responded, "A Negative,"

My brows furrowed, "Huh. That's weird," I leaned over to him, pointing at the blood types, "Francesca has O positive. You have A negative. Zane has AB Negative. Somethings not adding up,"

He snatched the papers off me, scanning over the sheet, "Hmm. Halima has AB negative. He probably inherited it from her," He replied, "Stop it now Amara. We've got all the evidence. He's my son. Okay. Leave it or I'll get it pissed,"

His voice had a warning tone in it. And Adam wasn't pretty when he was mad, his face a look of cold fury, his sarcastic smile promising hell.

I huffed, throwing the sheets off the bed, "Fine,"

But I wasn't going to leave it alone. My lawyer senses were tingling. I couldn't ask Sara for help, she was gone, her popularity was rising and she was Sayuri's new pet. I couldn't tell Adam, he thought of me as a vindictive, ruthless bitch after the incident with Francesca.

No. I couldn't go to My Dad either. He'd take that as a hint to pop the clogs of Zane. I could ask Esa. He's a doctor, but could he be trusted? He's slightly sociopathic and fucked in the head. Halima's too far. She would give some haunting advice. And I didn't want to bother her. She's just recovered from cancer.

I got up quickly, my head pounding.

I know who I could ask. But to ask him would be a suicidal mission. I grabbed my phone from the dresser, dialling a number.

"Where are you going?" Adam asked, "Come back,"

"I need to make a quick call,"

The phone rang for three beats. Then it was picked up by a man with a pleasant tone, "Dr Patel, Cardiothoracic surgeon. How can I help,"

I brought the phone closer to me, my voice dropping down to a whisper, "Krish it's me you cow. Why haven't you saved my number?"

He lost all professionalism when he heard me, "Listen, Zahra. I didn't want to save your number because you're a kutti. What do you want?"

I laughed. Nothings changed since our Uni days. Meena and I used to hide the body he was operating on sometimes and made him think it was possessed. He really was gullible. But Meena blamed it on me and that led to our fake feud. Then he crashed my first trial and booed me.

"I need you to perform a paternity test-"

"Zahra. Don't tell me you got knocked up and your fiance isn't the father. I always knew you were Kanjari (prostitute). But come on? Is this how low you've sunk?" He interrupted.

"When did Meena start teaching you Urdu words?" I asked pointedly, "Keep to your Hindi cusses. One mouthful from me and I'll send you straight back to-"

"Yeah, I get the point. You're bloody 5'3 you'll attack my kneecaps. Whatever. Who do you think the Father is?"

"First off: Rude. Second of all, it's not for me. It's for my Fiance,"

He sighed, "Who did your boyfriend knock up?"

"It's all hushed up right now. One slip of the word and the media can bury themselves. And you're the only one I can trust. He's got a kid. But I don't think it is his. Completely different blood types,"