57: DNA Result

Asma’u looked up at Ummah and then back to the lawyer they had invited. “What do you suggest we do now?” She directed her question to the lawyer, and he smiled professionally at her. “I'm sure he won’t agree to it even if Ummah tells him that she had a new lawyer, so that maybe you can forge the things or something. In fact, there’s no way we can show him that we’ve known about this, can we, Ummah?” Her eyes wandered back to Ummah and she weakly shook her head.

“I can’t talk to him about this. Those two can act like they hate each other but I know he loves that girl more than anything in his life, I can’t risk him being suspicious of me.” Ummah sighed and turned her eyes to the lawyer. “What do you suggest we do, Lawyer?”

“I think for the time being, I don't have anything to do neither can you unless you’re going to confront him about this. But if you can get his signature, and will be able to swap the papers only when you’re certain he won’t read them through before submitting them back to his lawyer, I can write new documents for you...”

Asma’u immediately chirped in, “What if that can’t be done? What should we do?” She turned her furious eyes to Ummah, “We can’t let her have what all that he owns, Ummah. Especially the Faksa empire, which we’ve always thought it was just a name, not knowing it’s an abbreviation of her name and all this while he has been running the empire under her name.” She couldn’t believe that after all these years, she was just realizing it now. The Faksa empire that she had been dreaming to become the CEO of had long belonged to Fareeda and she knew not even the owner knew about it.

“Fareeda Kamal Sardauna, Faksa. Why didn't I think of this all this while? Ya Allah.” Ummah palmed her face and the lawyer stared at the two of them.

“If you can't have the documents swapped and have him sign them without reading all of the contents, then I think the only way we can get the companies and wealth back is if she died, that’s the only way. If she’s dead, since he registered himself as her next of kin, then it will be back into his name and I think that way you will all be safe, right?”

Ummah and Asma’u exchanged a knowing look, but they knew it will be too dangerous for them to speak about this in the presence of this lawyer. Ummah immediately chirped in, “I think you can have the documents ready; I'll see if I can lure him to sign the documents without him knowing and that way...”

“They will all belong to Asma’u Kamal Sardauna, and not even the Supreme Court of appeal can deny her that since he signed it under her name until she willingly signed to have everything back to him.” Slow and triumphant smiles graced their lips, they could already imagine themselves winning this battle, they will have too.

They excused him and immediately after he closed the door behind him, Asma’u rushed back to where Ummah was seated down. “Ummah, why don’t we do both?” She said in an excited voice and smiled widely at her mother. She could feel it, she was finally going to get her revenge on her horrible sister.

“What do you mean, Asma’u? Kill her and also have Alhaji to sign the papers on your name?” Ummah asked, realizing that she was first the most conniving person, she was the one that even though Asma’u of all her ways, but then she could feel it that Asma’u was already walking ahead of her.

She nodded her head vehemently ta her mother, sometimes she wondered if the hatred she said she had for Fareeda was even true. As in, it was clear that doing both will benefit them the most, isn't it? “Yes Umma, you see, by killing her, everything will officially go back to his name, wouldn't it? And by then I'm sure he won’t give it to anyone unless he died. So, we can have the papers and have Faksa into my win. That’s double win for us, because he will never know we’re the ones that killed Fareeda and also, the money will be mine. You know it’s better if she dies, right?”

Ummah was silent for a while before she nodded her head, “We’ve failed at attempting it once, Asma’u, do you think we will succeed? I don’t want to be disappointed again like we did last time. And you know she lives as a queen now; how hard will that be?”

Asma’u threw her head back and laughed, amused and proud of herself for what she had already arranged. “Getting to her in Cameroon wouldn’t be a problem to us, Ummah. I told you I was going to a friend’s wedding last week in Kaduna, didn’t I?” Ummah nodded her head at her, wanting to know what this amazing little girl had already planned without her knowing.

“Yes, you did. What happened?”

“I went to Cameroon. Because recently someone contacted me about her, Ummah. I didn’t want to tell you about it until I'm done, and I can say I'm done with everything now. We just have to wait for the plan to be executed. Because I can say I hate her more for getting married to Mujaheed and him turning out to be a prince and now a king than having Faksa under her name.”

Stupefied, Ummah stared at how she was smiling at herself. She gasped in astonishment, “I’ve never thought you could be this smart, Asma’u. So now, what do you think we can do about this?”

“I'll just have to tell them about it, and trust me, they want her dead more than we can ever want to see her buried beneath the ground.” She smiled mischievously and a call came into her phone. She lifted the phone screen to Ummah and smiled, “What I was just talking to you about. We converse in French, I'm glad I learnt that language!”

✥

Coziness, anger, pain, jealousy, happiness, tears, smiles, laughter, heartaches. Can a single person have a mixture of all these in his heart and be alive and healthy? Because by Allah, she felt all these and even more. She hated it whenever she remembered that Mujaheed was married to that duckling, especially at night and on days she didn’t have to be with him because they had shifts with her. She rolled her eyes up exasperatedly and sighed, what would she do now? She wanted to have something that will take her mind off even for a moment.

She turned to Nafisa, “Nafisa, I'm bored, where do you think I can go to have my mind taken off a bit?” She asked and Nafisa turned to her while she rocked a whimpering Muhaseen that wanted nothing but to peacefully sleep.

“You’ve never seen our traditional dance, Your highness. I can arrange for that for you these evening and the dancers will surely make you smile. Should I do that?” Fareeda immediately shook her head. There were times that if something was done to her or said to her she doubted if these people were referring to her because she had never thought she would be given that much importance in life.

“No, you shouldn’t do that Nafisa. They might’ve been in their homes, relaxing and you’ll bring them out of their comfort zones. I was even talking about a place I can visit. Where no one will bow at me knowing I’m a queen or something. I just want to be as normal as I once used to be, is that so hard to ask for?” She pouted her lips without knowing and Nafisa softly chuckled. She went to place down Muhaseen in her crib before she came back to Fareeda.

“Your life is fully changed now, your highness. It will be better if you accept that and it wouldn’t hurt you or bother you. But I think we can visit the traditional market today, we can disguise ourselves as just normal women in the market, maybe it will excite you.” She suggested with a warm smile on her lips.

“What’s a traditional market? And can we go out without these guards following us everywhere and those female servants? I really need to be alone, just live my life but the only place I have that chance and privacy is in my room.” She slumped down her shoulders and sighed, Nafisa smiled. She had always known Fareeda was innocence, and cute. She would give her the award of being the cutest woman she had ever seen.

“We can sneak out if you want, Your Highness. The traditional market is where they sell all the things African culture related, seller from all the different countries in African continents come over, it’s fun to be in the market even if you aren’t going to buy anything.” Nafisa explained and she could see the way Fareeda’s eyes dilated with so much excitement.

“Let’s leave already, Nafisa. But where are we going to keep Muhaseen? Kulthum isn’t here I would’ve taken her to her chamber.” That reminded her, she needed to call Kulthum and ask how she was doing. Because when her husband wanted them to go back to Oman, she refused. Saying she wasn't emotionally alright to leave Cameroon yet and he was so understanding to leave her there and went back with Hamid because of school. And a week after he had left, she left to Chad, where Yumma’s mother stayed, saying that she needed a mother’s love now to get her back on track.

Like Nafisa suggested, she first took Muhaseen to her mother and they snuck out of Fareeda’s chamber through the backdoor while they dressed as normal people. No one noticed them and that was like a joy opener to her heart. The market was so fun that she didn't even want to leave. She had bought so many things that they had to hire someone to carry the things to them to the palace. She had laughed, played, and enjoyed the artistic culture of Africa. They were about to leave the market when she noticed something, and she immediately tapped Nafisa’s shoulder.

“Is that an anklet, Nafisa?” She asked, immediately walking over to the vendor.

“Yes, it’s an ancient anklet that’s so popular among ladies at the time. I heard thirty to forty years ago, but it’s still so beautiful that some of the ladies this time buy and wear it.”

Fareeda felt as tears pooled the brink of her eyes, she lifted up her garment and softly dangled the anklet on her ankle. “I have the same anklet, Nafisa. My mother gave it to me, where would she have possibly gotten it from?”

Nafisa smiled and stared down at the anklet she was showing her. “She must’ve bought it here in Cameroon or someone bought it for her from here.” She had to buy two for Muhaseen and had it in mind that when she reached the age, she would wear it for her, and they would have matching anklets for the rest of their lives.

They went back to the palace and Fareeda took the newly bought anklets and rushed to Mujaheed’s chamber. With a smile on her lips, she asked the guards and they told her he just went into his room. He knocked softly and waited for his permission to enter because she’d rather kill herself than have her intruding on him and Mairamou. She heard his voice from the room, and she walked inside.

He was seated on the edge of the bed, with a paper in his hands and he looked solemn and ruminative. She sat beside him, and he turned to look at her, “Mujaheed look what I've found in the market today, the same anklet as mine! I bought them for Muhaseen to wear when she’s all grown up, and we’ll have the same anklets for the rest of our lives.”

She noticed he wasn’t even listening to what she was saying. He looked furious, hurt, broken and betrayed. She placed her hand on his and looked softy into his eyes, “What’s wrong, Mujaheed? Did something happen?” She asked and followed his gaze to the paper he was holding.

She recognized the name of the hospital written and even though she couldn't see what was written inside, she knew it was a test result. “What’s wrong, Mujaheed?!” She asked while her heart thumped in her chest. She didn't want any more trouble, ya Rabb. She knew the look in his eyes so well, it was the same look he had the day he asked her to choose whether she wanted to be called a prostitute or a married woman. The same look he had when he brought her home from Katsina. What happened this time? It had been long since she did something? As in, she wasn’t even interested in the life she used to live before, and he clearly knew that.

He handed her the paper and she read out the heading, “Results of DNA test?” It was more of a question than a fact of what she had read. Her heart lost a bit, because whatever she was thinking would happen, she knew it would be worse than this.

“What’s this?” She heard his cool chilly voice as it uttered softly, right when her eyes got themselves on the father’s name confirmed as the DNA ‘Adam Lawal Batsari.’ Her eyes immediately skimmed over the child’s name and it was written there, ‘Muhaseen Mujaheed’, she knew she didn't have to look for the mother’s name, all this was so confusing that she didn’t know whether to breathe or hold her breath until she suffocated herself.

“What the hell is this, Fareeda?!” He thundered and his voice echoed through the four walls of the room and it made her shiver. She felt as her tears finally fell from her eyes and she looked up at him while she shook her head.

“You can't do this to me, Mujaheed. This is forged, I have never requested for a DNA test in the hospital I gave birth to Muhaseen. Please, trust me, the last time I saw Adam was the day you took me from him in Katsina, I've never even had his contact since then.” Her whole body shook, she was afraid. Not of what would happen to her, but of what he would say about Muhaseen. She didn’t what this meant, or which turn her life was trying to take, but she knew for a fact that her life was going to be so painful that she’d rather wish for death upon herself.

His eyes were bloodshot from the pain, the anger of betrayal and something she had never genuinely seen in his eyes, her hatred. “And what will you have to say about this? Just what, Fareeda?!” He handed her a letter that was written, and she wanted to scream, she didn’t know anything about this, why wouldn't Mujaheed trust her? She didn't want to read this letter because she knew in it, was her life’s destruction. “Read the freaking letter, Fareeda!” He thundered, and with her hands shaky, she unfolded it and her tears rolled down excessively on her cheeks when she noticed Adam’s handwriting.

‘Hello Fareeda, I heard you’re a queen now, congratulations. Who would’ve thought that the gateman would someday be a king? I'm happy for you to say the least. I don’t have much to say, and I don't have your contact anymore. But like you requested when you gave birth in the hospital, the doctor contacted me, and I went there to have them take my DNA sample. It turns out I'm the real father of your daughter, Muhaseen.

I have to send you the result and this letter to Cameroon so you can know which decision to make. Tell that king of your husband about the real paternity of your daughter or not. But have in mind, I'll be there someday to take my daughter along with me. I pray it wouldn’t destroy your pretty royal luxurious life then.

Best wishes, Your daughter’s father, Adam Lawal Batsari.’

What in the freak did this mean? Just what was going to happen to her? What the hell was this? She looked up at Mujaheed with a look that had shown her she had already given up about this because she had no proof whatsoever to defend herself. Only her and the almighty knew this wasn’t true. But she could see it from his eyes, Mujaheed hadn’t believe her and would never be.

She opened her mouth to speak when Mujaheed cut her off, so furious that she wondered if the servants outside didn't hear him. “What else do you have to say?! If this isn’t enough proof enough, then will you want the tape of your intimacy with Adam to be presented right before your eyes for you to admit this?!”

She closed her eyes, emotionally getting herself prepared for all the worse things that were to be said by him. She later opened her crying eyes to his face, “I thought you trust me, Mujaheed? I thought you know that Muhaseen is your daughter?!”

He shook his head and stood up, “Muhaseen is not my daughter! Stop telling me she’s my daughter when you clearly know she isn’t! You freaking know her real father, Fareeda!” He scoffed and palmed his face before he pointed his fingers at her, “What else do I expect from you? You’ve clearly told me that your first child isn’t mind, you’ve already promised him that! I thought that disgusting miscarriage you had...”

She stood up, “Will you just stop already? Mujaheed you’re breaking me with your words!” Her whole body trembled with so much pain. She didn’t want to hear anything, the was enough damage, he didn't have to add more to her aching soul.

“I want to break you as much as your betrayal broke me, Fareeda! Who am I living with? My wife or...” he let his words trailed off, realizing what he was just about to say, and he knew he had promised her not to ever say that to her again.

She cleared her tears and lifted up her chin. “Say it, complete you sentence Mujaheed. Your wife or a prostitute, right?” Her words were choked up with tears, “I knew this day would come, I knew there would be a day that you’d deny the paternity of Muhaseen, I was dreading this day!”

“Exactly!” He thundered. “This explains everything to me, knowing she isn’t my daughter is the reason why you were so hell bent on aborting the pregnancy, am I wrong?! What more else have you done? What else did you do? What else are you hiding that'll make me realize that I shouldn’t have married a woman like you in the first place, Fareeda Kamal Sardauna?!”