Hello, Mr. Major General (1)

Chapter 162 - With You (1)

The woman had been looking at Sidharth with eager, hungry eyes. When she heard Vidyut practically shoo her away, her face immediately darkened.

She said, in a loud, angry voice: “Hold it, Mister Jamwal! Who do you think you are talking to? Are you pulling a wham, bam, thank you, ma'am?!”

Vidyut was reluctant to get into an argument with her in front of Sidharth. He shot her an icy look and she immediately shut up, afraid to cause a scene. She pouted as she slung her Louis Vuitton bucket bag over her shoulder, and marched off in anger.

Once she was gone, Vidyut immediately called up the rest of his childhood playmates. “Guys, come over quick! Sidharth’s back in town! We're going to have a get-together at my place, The View From The Ninth Floor. Get over here, and remember to bring your significant others – the proper ones!” He turned around surreptitiously hiss the last three words into his phone.

Shehnaaz was quick to pick up on the underlying implication. The corner of her mouth quirked upwards.

Sidharth did not react. He stood nonchalantly before the elevator, chest forward and head held high as he pretended not to have heard Vidyut. His eyes flickered to Shehnaaz’s pouty cherry lips and lingered upon them as she smiled.

In a Louis Vuitton store, a short distance away Parth and Mahira had just exited the store with a shopping bag in hand when they heard the earlier commotion. They looked up to see what was going on.

Parth immediately saw Shehnaaz.

He saw her standing next to an impressive looking man. The effect was striking: she looked unbearably lovely, her delicate frame leaning towards the man’s strong figure. He could tell that she didn't have any makeup on her snowy white face, but she evidently didn't need them: her facial features stood out beautifully all the same.

Mahira, on the other hand, noticed Sidharth first. It was difficult not to: his tall, imposing figure and achingly beautiful face made him stand out from the crowd.

Mahira was calmly looking Sidharth over when she caught a glimpse of Shehnaaz out of the corner of her eye.

Her eyes were immediately drawn to Shehnaaz.

Mahira blinked in surprise. She said to Parth, “Didn’t you say once that Shehnaaz is an orphan, and that she doesn’t have a lot of money?”

“Yeah, she’s an orphan, ” Parth said absentmindedly, his eyes glued to Shehnaaz.

“But, look at what she’s wearing—that’s a Burberry duffle coat, a Hermès scarf, a Mulberry backpack, and Salvatore Ferragamo knee-high boots. Her entire get up costs at least a hundred thousand yuan,” Mahira remarked out in a low voice. Her lip curled disdainfully. “Are you sure she’s a poor, “penniless” orphan?”

Parth frowned. “She never wore any of that when she was at C University…”

He would have noticed if she had dressed in such expensive clothes back then. He suddenly remembered Shehnaaz’s luxurious apartment in C City’s Andheri precinct—something
seemed off.

Mahira believed Parth. She glanced at Shehnaaz contemptuously and said, “Well, if you’re sure you’re not mistaken, that means she’s found a sugar daddy. That young lady just now, the one who threw a tantrum and walked off—she’s a model, an internet celebrity, and you can ‘buy’ her, if you get what I mean. A dinner with her costs at least 10,000 yuan…”

Parth was stunned. “Are you saying that’s what Sana’s doing?”

“You have to admit she has good taste. Look at that man beside her—he’s rich and handsome. He must be a high-class sugar daddy. I wonder if she caught him in America?” Mahira gently nudged Parth’s shoulder. “Hey,
do you think Professor Sen knows what his precious student is up to?”