Her Swedish Billionaire's Baby(24)

 

Samara snorted in derision, “Whatever girl. Do you think he’s here for me?”

 

The last part was said quietly, like she didn’t even want to put that out there in the universe in case it wasn’t true.

 

“I think he’s definitely going to deal with you and your situation. That’s what these rich types do. They deal with stuff. Usually not personally but I guess…”

 

“I like the way you say ‘these rich types’ like you aren’t one of them.”

 

“Hey, you asked me a question I gave you an answer. Now what are you going to do with it?”

 

The next day she opened her door to find a process server requesting her presence for a paternity test.

 

 

 

Alison was against playing along, but she agreed to come along, just so ‘this Bjorn guy’ as she called him didn’t think that Samara was completely alone, with no one to defend her.

 

An unfamiliar white gentleman was waiting for them. He introduced himself as Kennedy Demerle, Bjorn’s lawyer and he was here to see that everything was done on the up and up. He inquired if Samara had a lawyer of her own.

 

She answered in the negative and looked away as the lawyer’s expression made her feel like quite the fool. She wanted to ask him where Bjorn was and why he hadn’t just asked her to do the test instead of making it seem like some sort of criminal endeavor. Instead she led the way into the clinic, walking ahead of her sister and the lawyer. She wondered where Bjorn’s DNA was supposed to come from but when the doctor asked for it, Demerle had it ready in form of a piece of hair.

 

 

 

Bel Air DNA Diagnostic Center

 

Eyeing the papers, he didn’t want to look but he felt himself bend down to pick them up anyways. Snorting as he skimmed over the intro and moved to the next page. Numbers etched into three different columns, having no clue what they meant but on top of the columns read. Mother, Child and Alleged father.

 

Some of the numbers matched up between the child and father columns which began to panic him. He chewed on his bottom lip still standing in the empty dust and cigarette smelling room. Finally getting to the bottom it wrote out.

 

The alleged father, Bjorn Fredriksen is not excluded as the Biological father of the child above. The probability of paternity is resulted in 99.999%.

 

Bjorn called Demerle to let him know he was ready to begin the process of obtaining custody.

 

 

 

“We filed a motion to serve notice by publication three weeks ago, after Mr. Fredriksen learned of the news,” Kennedy Demerle said as she stepped away from Judge Rees’s bench. It was hard to remember that she was half blind, sometimes, because she moved around the courtroom like she owned it. Samara admired that. Not that she would ever admit it aloud—Demerle was also a bit of a toolbox, sometimes—but she wished a little that, if she ever lost her vision, she’d keep her moved like Jagger.

 

She considers mentioning that to Alison, but Alison was sitting all straight-backed and nervous next to her, no sign of levity anywhere on her face.

 

Okay then.

 

“Since that time,” Demerle continued, his hands resting lightly on the sides of the podium, “there has been no contact between Mr. Fredriksen and Ms. Khaled. A paternity test carried out has proved that the child is his however.” He paused for a moment, then shook his head. “Due to the unsavory circumstances surrounding Ms. Khaled and therefore her suitability to bring up my client’s child and also due to my client’s superior circumstances, we ask that the defendant grant full custody to my client.”

 

“Thank you,” Judge Rees said. Her eyes stay on the affidavit of publication, though, and Samara felt her heart rate jump up past normal. There’s no real reason to be nervous, no verifiable excuse for the fact that she felt a little like she might throw up all over her own shoes. But reason had leapt out the car window around the time they’d pulled into the parking lot in front of the union   County Courthouse. Suddenly, with the big limestone building looming over them and Alison’s Honda Civic humming like a washing machine instead of a car, Samara had realized exactly how much rode on this one stupid motion hearing.

 

Well, not stupid. The hearing stood in the way of her kid actually becoming her kid, so, you know, not stupid.

 

Judge Rees kept looking at the stupid affidavit. Samara shifted, uneasy, and her elbow knocked Alison’s. Not on purpose, but because the seats were narrow and the armrests were even worse. Alison glanced over, the worry etched on her face like the relief on a statue, and Samara wet her lips.