"When is this girl coming to Hindustan?" Kulwant asked while looking at the colorful photograph in his hand.
The girl in the picture was smiling at the camera—clearly Indian—but the background was foreign.
"Tonight… or you can say she's arriving on tomorrow morning's plane," Sujan Singh replied.
"Is she coming alone, or is someone accompanying her?"
"A maid is coming with her."
"No man is accompanying her?"
"No."
"She's incredibly brave," Kulwant remarked appreciatively, looking at the picture again. "Traveling all the way from America alone? The women in our homes won't even step out without a man."
"This isn't the time to discuss what our women do or don't do," Sujan said, making a sour face. "The real question is—what should be done about this girl?"
"You've already made the preparations, haven't you?"
"Just making preparations isn't enough. It has to be executed too, and that's impossible without your help."
"You know, lawyer, that Kulwant is a friend to his friends," Kulwant said. "You've helped me legally many times. Now that you need my help, I won't back out. But from what you've told me so far, I don't fully understand the situation. First, tell me the whole story."
Just then, a servant entered, carrying a tray with two glasses, a bottle of whiskey, soda, and ice.
"Rahmat Mian, close the door on your way out," Sujan instructed the elderly servant as he set the tray on the table. "And make sure no one enters the room until I call for you."
"Yes, sir."
Once the servant left, Sujan poured whiskey into the two glasses and began explaining.
"You must have heard the name Seth Padamchand. Not just in this city, but in the entire province, he was a well-known figure. When he died, he left behind a fortune worth nearly twenty crore, all of which belongs to his only daughter, Shaifali—the girl in the picture you're looking at. At the time of Padamchand's death, Shaifali was around eight or nine years old. There were no close relatives here who could be trusted. However, she had a maternal uncle and aunt, but they lived far away in America.
My father, Trilochan Singh, was not only Seth's lawyer but also his close friend. Before dying, Seth made a will stating that my father would take care of Shaifali's inheritance until she turned twenty-one or got married. After Seth's death, Shaifali's uncle sent a message from America, asking for her to be sent there for her upbringing. So, my father sent her.
You knew my father well—an honest and duty-bound man."
"I know," Kulwant said, taking a deep sip of whiskey. "That's why he spent his entire life in a rented house and even died there. He managed a fortune worth crores but couldn't build even a small hut for himself."
"He considered touching someone else's money a sin."
Sujan lit a cigarette and continued, "He was completely devout and God-fearing."
"But you fear nothing."
"No, I do fear one thing."
"What is that?"
"Poverty."
"But you've gotten rid of that now," Kulwant laughed.
"Yes, in my own way," Sujan said, pouring more whiskey into the glasses. "Had I followed in my father's footsteps, I would still be living in that rented house instead of this grand mansion."
"Alright, continue the story."
"My father handled Shaifali's property with complete honesty. Padamchand's manager, Umashankar, was just as honest and responsible as my father. They didn't let a single penny go astray. I tried many times to convince my father that in today's world, honesty has no value. When we had such an opportunity, why not secure a good life for ourselves and our family? But he never listened to me.
Meanwhile, I was growing increasingly anxious, knowing that in just a year or two, Shaifali would turn twenty-one. She'd return from America, take charge of all her wealth, and we'd be left with nothing."
Sujan paused for a moment, flicked the cigarette ash into the ashtray, and then continued, "But six months ago, my father suddenly suffered a heart attack and passed away. After that, all his responsibilities fell into my hands.
Now, you know that this mansion, the cars—everything you see has been acquired in the last six months."
"By embezzling Shaifali's fortune?"
"Well, nothing is hidden from you. When I started handling the estate, that damn manager Umashankar kept interfering. So, I fired him."
"And after getting rid of him, you started freely siphoning off Shaifali's wealth. So, tell me—how much have you embezzled so far?"
Kulwant's question made Sujan hesitate.
"Look, my friend, I've never hidden anything from you," Kulwant said, noticing Sujan's hesitation. "You know very well that my transport business is just a front for smuggling. Whenever I've faced a legal hurdle, I've come straight to you, and after hearing everything, you've always given me the right advice. Because of your father, you couldn't openly be part of my business, otherwise, I would have made you a millionaire by now. But the past is past. You helped me because of my influence, and now that you need my help, I'm here.
But true friends can only help each other sincerely when there are no secrets between them. I don't need anything from you. I'm only asking because if it's a matter of four or five lakhs, I can lend you that money to fix the estate accounts. Later, you can return my money little by little."
"It's not just four or five lakhs."
"Then how much is it?"
"Roughly fifty lakh…"
"Fifty lakh!" Kulwant exclaimed in shock. "That's a huge amount!"