FF: Asya - Written in the Skies (Part 19/pg.80) - Page 6

Thank god ZoyAan ended... for now at least 😆

For a half hour they strolled about the grounds, talking about his plans for his future and then about her plans for her own. He was wonderful to talk to, Zoya thought with a feeling of poignant loss"encouraging and understanding and he completely supported her desire to attend Delhi instead of Mumbai.

They were heading toward the front of the house when a limousine pulled up in the drive and a striking brunette got out of it followed by two young men in their early twenties. "I see the grieving widow has finally decided to put in an appearance," Ayaan said with uncharacteristic sarcasm as he looked at Razia Siddiqui. Large diamond earrings glittered at her ears, and despite the simple gray suit she was wearing, she looked alluring and curvaceous. "Did you notice that she didn't shed a tear at the funeral? There's something about that woman that reminds me of Lucretia Borgia."

Privately Zoya agreed with the analogy. "She isn't here to accept condolences. She wants the will read this afternoon, as soon as the house clears out, so that she can go back to Palm Beach tonight."

"Speaking of 'clearing out,'" Ayaan said, glancing at his watch, "I have an appointment in an hour." Leaning forward, he pressed a brotherly kiss to her cheek. "Tell your father I said good-bye."

Zoya watched him as he walked away, taking all her romantic girlhood dreams with him. He looked up and waved good-bye to her before sitting in his car and driving away.

Trying desperately not to dwell on her loss, she forced herself to walk forward to greet Razia. Not once during the service had Razia spoken to either Zoya or her father; she had simply stood between her sons, her expression blank. "How are you feeling?" Zoya asked politely.

"I'm feeling impatient to go home," the woman retorted icily. "How soon can we get down to business?"

"The house is still full of people," Zoya said, mentally recoiling from Razia's attitude. "You'll have to ask my father about the reading of the will."

Razia turned on the steps, her face glacial. "I haven't spoken to your father since that day in Palm Beach. The next time I speak to him, it will be when I'm calling all the shots and he's begging me to talk to him. Until then you'll have to act as interpreter, Zoya." She walked into the house with a son on each side of her like an honor guard.

Zoya stared at her back, chilled by the hatred emanating from her. The day in Palm Beach Razia had referred to was still vividly clear in Zoya's memory. Seven years earlier, she and her father had flown to Bhopal at the invitation of her grandfather, who'd moved there after his heart attack. When they arrived they discovered that they had not been invited merely for the Eid holidays, but rather to attend a wedding"Zahoor Siddiqui's wedding to Razia, who had been his secretary for two decades. At thirty-eight, she was thirty years younger than he, a widow with two teenage sons only a few years older than Zoya.

Zoya never knew why Ghafoor and Razia detested each other, but from what little she heard of the explosive argument between her father and grandfather that day, the animosity had started long before, when Zahoor still lived in Mumbai. With Razia within hearing, Ghafoor had called the woman a scheming, ambitious s**t, and he'd called his father a silly, aging fool who was being duped into marrying her, so that her sons would get a piece of Zahoor's money.

That trip to Palm Beach had been the last time Zoya had seen her grandfather. From there, he had continued to control his business investments, but he left the operation of Siddiqui & Company entirely to Zoya's father, as he had done from the day he moved to Palm Beach. Although the department store represented less than one fourth of the family's net worth, by its very nature its operation required her father's complete attention. Unlike the family's other vast holdings, Siddiqui's was far more than a mere stock transaction that yielded dividends; it was the foundation of the family's original wealth and a source of great pride.

"This is the last will and testament of Zahoor Siddiqui," her grandfather's attorney began when Zoya and her father were seated in the library along with Razia and her sons. The first bequests were for large sums that went to various charities, and after that four more bequests were made to Zahoor Siddiqui's servants"$15,000 each to his chauffeur, housekeeper, gardener, and caretaker.

Since the attorney had specifically requested that Zoya be present, she had already assumed that she was probably the recipient of some small bequest. Despite that, she jumped when the attorney spoke her name: "To my granddaughter, Zoya Siddiqui, I bequeath the sum of four million dollars." Zoya's mouth fell open in shocked disbelief at the enormous sum, and she had to concentrate on listening while he continued: "Although distance and circumstances have prevented me from getting to know Zoya well, it was apparent to me when I last saw her that she is a warm and intelligent girl who will use this money wisely. To help ensure that she does, I make this bequest with the stipulation that the funds are to be held in trust for her, along with any interest, dividends, etc., until she attains the age of thirty. I further appoint my son, Ghafoor Siddiqui, to act as her trustee and to maintain full guardianship over said funds."

Pausing to clear his throat, the attorney looked from Ghafoor to Razia to her sons, Umer & Hammad, and then he began to read Zahoor's words again: "In the interest of fairness, I have divided the rest of my estate as evenly as possible between my remaining heirs. To my son, Ghafoor Siddiqui, I bequeath all my stock, and my entire interest in, Siddiqui & Company, a department store which constitutes approximately one fourth of my entire estate." Zoya heard it, but she couldn't make sense of it. "In the interest of fairness" he'd left his only child one fourth of his estate? Surely, if he meant to divide everything evenly, his wife was entitled to no more than one half, not three fourths. And then, as if from a distance, she heard the attorney finish, "To my wife, Razia, and my legally adopted sons, Umer & Hammad, I leave equal shares in the remaining three fourths of my estate. I further stipulate that Razia Siddiqui is to act as trustee over Umer & Hammad 's portion until such time as they have both attained the age of thirty."

The words legally adopted tore at Zoya's heart as she saw the look of betrayal flash across her father's ashen face. Slowly, he turned his head and looked at Razia; she returned his stare unflinchingly while a smile of malicious triumph spread across her face. "You conniving bitch!" he said between his teeth. "You said you'd get him to adopt them, and you did."

"I warned you years ago that I would. I'm warning you now that our score still isn't settled," she added, her smile widening as if she was thriving on his fury. "Think about that, Ghafoor. Lie awake at night, wondering where I'll strike you next and what I'll take away from you. Lie awake, wondering and worrying, just like you made me lie awake eighteen years ago."

The bones of his face stood out as he clamped his jaws to stop himself from dignifying that with a reply. Zoya tore her gaze from the two of them and looked at Razia's sons. Umer's face was a replica of his mother's"triumphant and malicious. Hammad was frowning at his shoes. Hammad is soft, Zoya's father had said years ago. Razia and Umer are like greedy barracudas, but at least you know what to expect of them. The younger boy, Hammad, makes my skin crawl"there's something strange about him.

As if he sensed that Zoya was looking at him, Hammad glanced up, his expression carefully noncommittal. He didn't look strange to Zoya or at all threatening. In fact, when she'd last seen him on the occasion of the wedding, Hammad had gone out of his way to be nice to her. At the time, Zoya had felt sorry for him because his mother openly preferred Umer, and Umer, who was two years older, seemed to feel nothing for his brother but contempt.

Suddenly Zoya couldn't stand the oppressive atmosphere in the room any longer. "If you'll excuse me," she said to the lawyer, who was spreading some papers out on the desk, "I'll wait outside until you're finished."

Lol so razia n gaffur hate each orther...😉

And zoya s grandfather left such a huge amount of money for her😲...coool

And U promised asad in this update😭...but next update I want asad...and tatz an order😆...lol...loooved the update yar

Waiting for asad...

Update sooon😃

Love

Pinky

And I am first to comment...yipeee...😛

😊

dont worry not gonna steal it 😛😛😛

i love mine 😉