To Carry A BILLIONAIRE’s CHILD

                              ——   Chapter 1    ——

Beep-Beep-Beep.

The hospital monitors chirped with that steady, annoying rhythm—the kind of sound that follows you home and rings in your ears even when you’re sleeping. 

I folded my arms tight across my chest, trying to lock in the little body heat I had left.

"Nneka, look... these are your only two options," Dr. Okoro said. He was clutching the clipboard to his white coat, his lips thinned into that 'bad news' line.

I hated that face. It was the face of a man about to tell you that prayer and fasting weren't going to pay the NEPA bill.

"Two choices," he continued, the silence in the private ward stretching like a tight rubber band.

Option A: I pay for my mother’s emergency surgery, clear the outstanding five-year debt, and become a literal beggar on the streets of Lagos.

Option B: I stop payment, and the hospital pulls the plug on the machine that had been keeping her heart beating since the year I finished secondary school.

"How much time do I have?" I asked. My voice was dry, like garri without water.

"The hospital board is breathing down my neck. You need to make the first deposit by the end of this month. 

At the very least." He sighed, reaching out to squeeze my shoulder. "Nneka, I’ve known you since you were a small girl in pigtails. 

You’ve done more than any daughter should. I’m telling you this as a family friend, not just a doctor... her brain is gone. Let her go."

Let her go.

I looked at my mother. Mama looked like a shadow of the woman who used to sell the best abacha in the market. 

Now, she was just a collection of tubes and pale skin, drifting in a sleep she hadn't woken from in fifteen years.

Beep-Beep-Beep.

"I can't do that, Doctor," I said, my voice sharp.

"Can’t or won’t?"

I didn't answer. I couldn't.

"Nneka, you were just a child when the accident happened. You have to stop carrying this guilt like a heavy load of cement on your head."

I felt a flash of hot anger. Why do people think guilt is like a light switch? 

Like I could just flip it off and suddenly forget that my junior sister was in the ground while Mama was trapped in this half-life because of me?

"Just prep for the surgery, Dr. Okoro. You’ll get your money."

He shook his head, his eyes pitying. "Once life support hits the ten-year mark, the body starts giving up. 

This kidney issue is just the beginning. Her other organs are tired, Nneka. Think about the 'other option'."

"I have to go to work," I snapped, zipping up my thick hoodie.

"In this rain?" He glanced toward the window. 

The Lagos sky had opened up—a heavy, wicked downpour that had already turned the streets into brown rivers. "You’re twenty-three, a beautiful girl. 

Your mates are at Lekki Phase 1, clubbing and living their best lives. 

You’re working two jobs, smelling like dishwater and antiseptic. Don’t you miss having a normal life?"

I gave him a small, tired smile. "You can’t miss what you’ve never had, Doctor."

The rain was legendary. The moment I stepped out of the hospital lobby, the wind whipped my face, and the water soaked through my clothes in seconds. 

People were scurrying everywhere, hiding under bus stops and shops.

But I didn't have the luxury of waiting for the rain to subside. In Lagos, if you don't move, you get moved.

I checked the transport app. No drivers available. I checked the bus park. The danfo drivers were shouting "double price" because of the flood. I couldn't afford it.

So, I put my head down and started walking. Ten blocks through the Lagos flood, my sneakers squelching in the mud, moving toward the high-brow cafe where I worked the night shift.

I got to the cafe five minutes to spare. My boss, Mrs. Adebayo, just nodded at me, busy counting the day’s intake. There was only one customer left—a woman sitting by the window, staring at her phone.

I changed into my uniform, wiped the rainwater off my neck, and approached her.

"Good evening, Ma. Welcome. What can I get for you?"

The woman jumped, startled. When she looked up, I almost blinked. 

She didn't just have money; she had wealth. The kind of wealth that makes your skin glow and your hair look like silk. 

Her wristwatch alone could probably buy my mother a new set of kidneys.

"Oh! You scared me," she laughed. Even her laugh sounded like it had been filtered through expensive perfume. 

"The weather is just terrible. I’m waiting for my driver to find a way through the flood."

"I understand, Ma," I said politely.

"The roads are blocked. How did you get here?" she asked, curious.

"I walked from the General Hospital."

"You walked? In this rain?" Her eyes widened. 

"That’s miles away!"

"I had to," I said, clicking my pen over the order pad. "So... what would you like to order?"

"Black coffee. No sugar." 

She watched me, her gaze becoming intense, almost calculating.

I served her the coffee and turned to leave, but her voice stopped me.

"Wait."

I turned back. She was biting her lip, looking at me with a strange mixture of hesitation and hope.

"This might sound very odd," she whispered, leaning in. 

"But do you like money? I mean... real money?"

I stiffened. I’d heard this before. Lagos is full of people looking for "runs" girls or something shady. 

"Ma, if it’s anything illegal, I’m not interested. I don't want trouble with the police."

She laughed, her gold bracelets clinking. "No, no! It’s nothing like that. 

I usually go through an agency, but they keep sending me girls who only care about the fame. I need someone... resilient. Someone like you."

She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial hum.

"How would you like to make enough money to change your life—and save your mother’s? How would you like to be my surrogate?"

                         ——   Chapter 2    ——

"That’s all for today. I want those proposals on my desk before tomorrow morning’s devotion," I said, closing my MacBook with a snap.

The boardroom filled with the sound of chairs scraping and tired murmurs as the staff filtered out. I leaned back, my head throbbing. This Lagos heat—even with the AC on full blast—was giving me a migraine.

"Open that window a bit," I gestured to the last person leaving. I closed my eyes, inhaling the scent of the coming rain.

Clack. Clack. Clack.

The sharp sound of designer heels on the marble floor didn't leave. They got closer. Then, I smelled her. Vanilla, cheap roses, and desperation.

"Oga Daniel... you look so stressed. Maybe I can help you 'relax'?" she whispered, leaning over my shoulder.

I opened my eyes. It was my CFO’s new personal assistant. Tolu, I think. She was young, wearing a skirt that was definitely against HR policy, and looking at me like I was a plate of hot jollof rice.

"I’m very good at my job, I promise," she purred, her hand hovering near my neck.

I didn't move. I just reached out and pressed the red button on my intercom. "I need you to leave. Now."

She didn't flinch. Instead, she laughed—that fake, high-pitched "Slay Queen" laugh. "Ah, Oga, you like hard to get? It makes the whole thing more exciting." She ran a long, acrylic nail down my white shirt.

"I am a married man," I said, my voice like ice.

"And so? Am I asking for your ring?" she hissed, her eyes turning sharp. "I can be the side chick, the 'under-the-carpet' babe. 

As long as my name is on the credit card alert list, I don't care."

She moved her hand lower. I caught her wrist and pushed it away like it was a piece of rotten meat. "No means no. Get out."

"If I scream now, what will you do?" she challenged, crossing her arms. "One loud shout and the whole office will think the 'Great Daniel' is a harasser. It’s your word against mine."

I looked at the blinking red light on the intercom. "What is taking so long?" I asked the speaker.

She frowned. "Who are you talking to?"

"Andrew?" I called out.

Suddenly, a loud crackle came through the speaker, followed by a roar of laughter. "Omo! D, I’m coming! I was just enjoying the film!" It was my brother, Andrew.

The door swung open. Security and the HR Manager rushed in.

"Mr. Adeleke, we are so sorry. The lift was sluggish," the HR Manager stammered, looking at Tolu like she was a ghost.

"Take her out," I said, not even looking at her.

"Wait! Daniel!" she yelled as the female guard grabbed her arm. 

She was dragged out, shouting something about how I would "see her in court."

Andrew leaned against the doorframe, whistling. "Guy, you have liver o. How did you resist that one? That girl is a firecracker."

"Shut up, Andrew. Where is my secretary?"

"Gone home. I was listening to the whole drama from her desk. 

I thought I was watching The Men's Club live," he chuckled, dropping a file on my desk. "Here are the quarterly figures for the Lekki project."

I scanned the file. "250 million profit. Not bad."

"This is the third girl this month, D," Andrew said, sitting on the edge of my desk. "The interns are already calling you 'The Iron Man.' 

Brianna from Accounts even has a nickname for you: Daddy D. The girls on Twitter would move for you."

"Andrew. Get out."

"I'm going, I'm going!"

By the time I left the office, the Lagos sky was pitch black. I checked my phone. 

10 missed calls from Funke. I sighed and dialed back, knowing the headache was about to get worse.

"Daniel! Where have you been? I’ve been calling since!" Her voice was frantic, that high-pitched tone she gets when she’s obsessed with a new idea.

"Work, Funke. What’s the matter?"

"Anyway, forget that! I found her! I found our surrogate!"

My heart sank. Not again. "Funke, we’ve talked about this..."

"No, this one is different! I saw her at that cafe in Victoria Island. She’s young, very fit—she walked all the way from the hospital in that rain! She’s a warrior, Daniel. 

I just have a feeling about her. This is the one!"

I rubbed my temples. She had said the same thing about the last three girls.

"She said no at first," Funke continued, "but once I mentioned the 20 Million Naira settlement and the apartment... she said she’d think about it. I’m going to an art exhibition now, we’ll talk when you get home. Love you, bye!"

                           ——   Chapter 3    ——

I tossed my phone on the mahogany desk and sighed.

"Omo, that was a one-sided match," Andrew said, leaning forward. "Big bro, let’s be honest for once. 

Why are you still married to this woman?"

I gave him a look that should have silenced him, but Andrew has no filter.

"Look at you, D! Everyone knows the deal. You married her because your fathers were business partners. 

It’s been five years. I thought you’d have filed for divorce by now, but instead, you’re doubling down and looking for a surrogate? Why?"

I didn't answer. I reached for my pack of Benson, lit a stick, and let the smoke burn my lungs. It was the only thing that felt real in this office.

"The famous silence," Andrew threw his hands up. "Speak to me, Daniel! Don't you want someone who actually loves you? 

Not someone who treats your bank account like an ATM that never expires?"

I scoffed, blowing a cloud of smoke toward the ceiling. "Andrew, that is small boy talk. This is Lagos. This is the real world. Love is for people who don't have bills to pay."

"Have you even tried to find it?"

"Just focus on the West Side project, Andrew!" I snapped.

The room went quiet. I rubbed my face, feeling the weight of the day. "Okay, let’s say I leave Funke. 

What’s the guarantee the next woman won’t be a bigger gold-digger? Or a 'Slay Queen' looking for a viral moment?"

I took another drag. "At least with Funke, I know the terms of the contract. She has her life, I have mine. 

As long as the credit card alerts are hitting her phone, she stays out of my business."

"So she’s your human shield?" Andrew asked.

"Exactly. She keeps the 'hunters' away. It works."

"And the baby?" Andrew’s voice softened. "Why are you agreeing to this surrogate thing?"

I looked at the glowing tip of my cigarette. "I’m tired, Andy. 

The board meetings, the fake smiles, the people who only call me because they want a contract... it’s exhausting. 

But a child? A child won’t have an agenda. Maybe a child could actually love me... for me. Not for the Adeleke name."

Andrew nodded slowly. "I hear you. You’ve been lonely for too long. But raising a kid in this cold house? Are you sure?"

"I’m thirty-three, Andy. I’m not waiting for some fairy tale. Life is moving. I’m just trying to keep up."

Andrew stood up and grabbed his coat. "You’re not moving on, big bro. You’re just looking for an escape. 

I hope you know what you’re doing. One Funke is enough—imagine two or three mini-Funkes running around."

I glared at him, and he flashed that annoying grin.

"But they'll be your kids too, so Uncle Andy will still love them. Later, D."

He walked out, leaving me in the silence of my multi-million naira office.

"Deserve more," I muttered to the empty room.

I had the cars, the houses, the private jet, and the power. 

In this city, that’s everything. What more could a man like me possibly deserve?

                          ——   Chapter 4    ——

I was tapping my feet on the expensive rug, checking my Rolex for the tenth time in two minutes.

Beside me, Funke sat like a queen on her throne, looking effortlessly "Upper Class." She had just spent four hours at the spa, and her diamond set was sparkling enough to blind someone. 

I knew her game—she was trying to intimidate this girl into seeing how "lucky" she was to be chosen.

"What are you smiling at?" Funke nudged me, sipping her overpriced latte.

I didn't even realize my lips had twitched. "Nothing."

"How much longer? I have a board meeting," I complained.

"Hush, Daniel. This girl is about to carry your heir. The least you can do is wait for ten minutes," Funke scolded. "And please, remove that 'I-will-fire-you' face. She’s not your staff. Don’t scare her away before she signs."

I sighed and rubbed my temples.

Just then, the door of the cafe jingled.

"There she is!" Funke gasped, grabbing my arm with excitement.

I turned around—and I think my heart actually stopped beating for a second.

You know how they say time stands still in movies? I thought it was a lie until that moment. 

The noise of the Lagos traffic outside faded. The clinking of spoons stopped. Everything blurred except for her.

She wasn't wearing diamonds. She was in a simple, faded gown, but the way she walked? Like she owned the soil she stepped on. 

She was beautiful—not the "packaged" beauty of the women in my circles, but something raw. Something vivid. 

Her skin was like polished mahogany, and her eyes—almond-shaped and deep—held a story I couldn't yet decode.

She stopped at our table, and I felt a heat I couldn't explain.

"Sorry I'm late," she said. It wasn't a plea for forgiveness; it was a statement of fact.

She looked me straight in the eye. I forgot to blink.

"No worries at all!" Funke chirped, pulling me back to the real world. "Daniel and I were just enjoying a little breakfast date."

Date? Since when?

"Mia, meet my husband, Daniel Adeleke. Daniel, this is Nneka, the girl I told you about."

"Pleasure," I managed to exhale, stretching out my hand.

She hesitated for a heart-beat before sliding her hand into mine. Her palm wasn't soft like Funke’s—it was slightly rough, the hand of someone who actually worked for a living. 

That roughness felt more real to me than anything I’d touched in years. It was proof she was human, not just another ghost in my world.

"So, Nneka, you’re here, which means you’ve thought about the offer?" Funke asked, stirring her coffee.

Before Nneka could answer, a waiter rushed over. "Can I get you something, Ma’am?" He looked at her with more respect than he’d shown me.

"Just black coffee, thank you," she said. Her voice was musical, but steady.

"So, the surrogacy," Funke started again, not wasting time.

Nneka took a slow breath, tilting her head. I found myself mesmerized by the movement. Daniel, get a grip!

"I’ve been thinking about it," she admitted. "But I have two jobs. I’ve heard pregnancy is hard on the body, and my life depends on me being able to move. I can’t afford to be grounded."

Funke let out a loud, dramatic laugh. "Ah-ah! You won't need to worry about money, Nneka. I already told you the amount. It’s more than enough for someone in your position."

Nneka didn't flinch. "I’m sorry, but it’s not enough."

I liked her immediately. No "long grammar," no beating around the bush. Just straight talk.

"I beg your pardon?" Funke’s voice went up two octaves. I could see the 'Billionaire Wife' tantrum building up in her chest.

I reached out and squeezed Funke’s hand under the table. Easy. She scowled at me, but I ignored her and looked directly at Nneka.

"How much do you want?" I asked, taking over before Funke blew the whole deal.

Nneka’s gaze flickered between us, measuring me up.

                            ——   Chapter 5    ——

"My mother needs surgery and her hospital bills are piling up. That is the only reason I am here. I won't do this if I can't save her," Nneka said, her voice calm but heavy like a stone.

"How much are we talking about?" I asked. I needed a figure.

She hesitated. "The surgery, the arrears for the past five years... it’s about 50 Million Naira. What you offered me originally won’t even cover half. I’d still have to work two jobs while pregnant, and I don't think my body can handle that."

I opened my mouth to speak, but Funke cut in like a sharp blade.

"50 Million?! Do you think we are running a charity?" she hissed, leaning forward. "You probably googled who we are and now you want to milk us! 

We are already paying you more than any agency would!"

I cringed. Funke’s lack of class was showing. I looked at Nneka, expecting her to shrink or cry. Instead, she just shrugged, looking bored—like a teacher watching a toddler throw a tantrum in a supermarket.

"These are my terms," Nneka said nonchalantly. "Surrogacy wasn't my idea; it was yours. If you're not ready to meet them, let’s stop wasting each other’s time."

Omo. This girl was fire.

She grabbed her bag to stand up. A sudden panic hit me—I couldn't let her walk away. "Nneka, wait!"

I stood up too. Up close, her eyes were even more intense. They weren't cold; they were warm, like the Lagos sun after a heavy rain.

"I think we can reach an agreement," I said, ignoring Funke’s death stare. "We will cover your mother’s entire medical bill—all of it—plus a monthly allowance for your upkeep. Does that work?"

Nneka looked at me, searching my face. "That sounds fair."

"Deal?" I held out my hand.

"Deal."

As our hands met, I felt a literal spark—like a static shock that traveled straight to my chest.

"Our lawyer will send the contract," I told her. Just then, my phone buzzed. It was my Operations Manager. "I'm sorry, I have to take this."

I hurried out to take the call, my heart racing. I tried to finish the business talk as fast as I could because I was itching to get back inside. 

But by the time I returned, the chair was empty.

"Is she gone?" I asked, unable to hide the disappointment.

"Yes. She said she’d be late for her shift," Funke snapped. She turned on me, her face contorted in rage. "Why do you always have to walk all over me, Daniel? 

Why did you agree to that ridiculous amount without asking me?"

I sighed. "Because you were about to lose the only person who can help us."

"Don't forget yourself, Daniel!" she hissed, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "It was my father’s connection that got you that first government contract. 

Without my family, you would be just another hustler on the street!"

She grabbed her designer bag and stormed out, her heels clicking like gunshots on the floor. 

I just watched her go. 24 hours without mentioning her "Daddy's Card"—that was a new record for her.

Nneka - POV:

I walked out of the cafe with Funke’s number tucked into my pocket. My phone was dead, so I couldn't save it yet. 

I started the long trek to the restaurant for my second shift.

My mind was spinning. Funke Adeleke was exactly what I expected—rich, arrogant, and calculating. I wouldn't spend five minutes with her if it wasn't for the money.

But her husband... Daniel.

I wasn't expecting him. He was tall—like, 6'5" tall—and he looked like God took extra time to sculpt him. 

But it wasn't just his looks. It was his presence. He seemed solid, like a rock, but underneath all that "Billionaire" armor, I saw something else. A flicker of loneliness. A softness he was trying to hide.

I hated that I noticed it.

I reached into my pocket and found a business card a man had given me yesterday. 

Arthur Brent: Talent Scout. 

He had promised "quick money and fame." I knew what that meant in Lagos—a life of regret and things I couldn't tell my mother.

I dropped the card into a dustbin.

I’ve spent my life building walls. Foster homes, being a "poor girl" in a rich city, losing my sister Lilly... I learned early that if you don't let people in, they can't hurt you when they leave.

But as I touched my flat stomach, I felt a strange thought. 

For nine months, I wouldn't be alone. I would be carrying a life. I can't bring back my sister, and I can't fix my mom's spine, but maybe I can do this one thing right.

I’d be a mother without being a mother. I’d get the money, save Mama, and walk away with the memories.

Why not?

As soon as I got to the restaurant and plugged in my phone, I sent one text to Funke:

"I'm in."

                          ——   Chapter 6    ——

Funke, standing beside me, practically glowed. She clapped her hands like she’d just won the lottery. "Perfect!"

"We’ll call you once we’re ready for the implantation," the doctor continued. "But for tomorrow morning, you have a procedure at 8:00 am sharp. Don’t be late."

"Wait," I frowned. I had spent all night reading about surrogacy on the internet. "Why do I need a D&C? My cycles are normal. I’ve never had issues."

The doctor didn't even look up. "I saw a tiny bit of scar tissue on the ultrasound. It’s probably nothing, but this process is expensive and stressful. 

We want to zero out any risk of a miscarriage. It’s for your own good."

I nodded, though my gut felt slightly uneasy. I gathered my second-hand cardigan.

"Take the day off work tomorrow," he added. "The anesthesia will make you dizzy."

As I walked out, I felt a shiver. There was no turning back now. Mama’s life was on the line.

Two weeks later, I was staring at a plastic stick in my small room. Two lines. Red. Bold.

"It’s positive," I texted Funke.

"Send me a picture now!" she replied instantly.

I laughed a little. 

"My phone doesn't have a camera, Ma." It was so typical of her. Funke lived in a world of iPhone 15s and 5G; she couldn't even imagine a life where a phone was just for calling and texting.

I laid back on my bed, my hand resting on my flat stomach. Somewhere in there, a life was starting. My mind drifted—not to the procedure, but to Daniel. 

The father. I realized he was the first person I actually wanted to tell. I wondered if he was happy.

From tomorrow, I’d stop the night shift at the cafe. The monthly allowance Daniel promised was enough to cover my rent and food, but I decided to keep the restaurant job. 

The Head Chef was finally letting me handle the knives, and I had a dream. 

One day, I wouldn’t be Nneka the Waitress. I’d be Chef Nneka.

I pulled my thin blanket up, but my toes stuck out. I smiled. Maybe now, I could finally buy a blanket that actually fit me.

Daniel - POV

"I want her number. I need to meet her," I said, switching off the treadmill and wiping sweat from my neck.

Funke, who had been smiling at her phone a second ago, frowned. "Why? Why do you need to see her?"

"Because she is carrying my child, Funke. The least I can do is check if she’s eating well or if she needs anything."

"She’ll just demand for more money, Dan. You don't know these trenches people. They are bottomless pits," she said, her voice dripping with disdain.

I froze, my jaw tightening. Funke saw the look on my face and quickly changed her tone. "Anyway, why the sudden interest? 

You didn't even know the names of the last two surrogates we tried."

My mind flashed back to the cafe. The way Nneka looked at me. The way her hand felt—real, grounded, warm.

"Funke, I don’t owe you an explanation. Give me her number or I’ll find it myself."

"Oh, big man talk," she giggled, walking over to me. She took the towel from my neck and started wiping my bare chest, her eyes searching mine. "I love it when you’re bossy, Daniel. All sweaty and dominant."

Her hand started to drift toward the waistband of my gym shorts. I caught her wrist firmly and pushed it away. "Don’t. Not today."

Funke’s face turned bright red. The explosion was coming. "When will you get over it, Daniel?! It’s been months! I told you, I was grieving! 

We lost our baby and you were never home! I was lonely!"

"So you decided to cure your loneliness with the pool boy in our own bed?" I asked, my voice dangerously low.

"Stop acting like a robot! People slip! It was a mistake!"

"You didn't slip, Funke. You moved in."

She flinched, then her eyes turned wicked. "Don't act holy with me. I saw you and that girl in the cafe. 

You were basically 'eye-f*cking' each other! You think I’m stupid? You want her number so you can start something!"

"Are you serious right now?" I scoffed. "I don’t cheat, Funke. You can thank my mother’s upbringing for that. 

So stop the gaslighting."

She went quiet, then suddenly burst into tears. Big, fat, dramatic tears. "I’m just scared, Dan! 

You’re the one who picked her! She has power over you now because she’s carrying your heir! How do you think I feel, living with this fear every day?"

She buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking. I stood there, watching her. Even though I knew she was a master manipulator, a part of me felt the sting.

"I know how that fear feels," I said quietly. "Because I’ve lived with it since the day I walked in on you and that boy. I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy."

She looked up, her eyes wide. For a second, she looked human. "I'm sorry, Dan. I really am. I’m just overwhelmed. Look—" 

She scrambled to her bag and pulled out her phone. "I’ve already booked the nursery designer! The one who worked for the Spanish Royal family! And look at this gold-plated stroller—"

"Funke, babies don't need gold strollers. They need love. Do you even understand that?"

She blinked, her lip trembling. "Of course I do. You think because I’m barren I don't have a motherly heart?"

I sighed, exhausted. "I didn't mean it like that."

She wiped her eyes and took a deep breath. "Fine. I’ll give you her number."

"Thank you."

                          ——   Chapter 7    ——

Daniel - POV

"Hello, this is Daniel Adeleke. I got your number from Funke. Congrats on the pregnancy."

I stared at the text. It sounded like a formal email from a bank manager. I took a sip of my black coffee, my fingers hovering over the screen. How do you talk to a woman who is carrying your future in her womb when you barely know the color of her eyes?

"Are you trying to set that phone on fire?" Andrew asked, pulling out a chair in my office.

"Nneka is pregnant," I said, tossing the phone onto the desk.

Andrew’s eyes lit up like a Christmas tree. "Omo! That’s huge! Congrats, Big Bro!"

I nodded, opening my laptop. "Funke is over the moon. This is the third time we’re trying this."

"So, when is my nephew coming? When will I start buying small jerseys?" he asked excitedly.

I looked at him over the screen. "How do you know it’s a boy?"

"What?" Andrew looked confused. "I said nephew because I’m his uncle... wait, does it work like that?"

I leaned back, sighing. "All those millions I spent on your private university... a total waste. You have an MBA but you don't know basic genetics."

"Hey! Economics doesn't teach scan results!" Andrew laughed. Then he paused. "It’s good to see you smiling, D. You haven’t done that in a long time."

"I smile, Andrew."

"Not since you sent me to London for my Masters. 

I remember that day. You were so proud." Andrew’s voice got soft. "Just like Dad would have been proud of you if he could see you today."

The familiar knot tightened in my chest.

"I'm serious," Andrew continued. "You were only 18 when you started carrying cement at construction sites to feed me. By 22, you had your own small firm. 

You drove me to school, paid for my football academy, and made sure I never lacked. I know I got a scholarship later, but I couldn't have done it without you."

"Andrew."

"What?" He was blinking fast, trying to hide the moisture in his eyes.

"You’re still doing the internship program. No shortcuts."

"Guy! It was worth a try!" he laughed, wiping his face. "But for real, when am I meeting her? The surrogate?"

"I'm supposed to meet Nneka in ten minutes. Now, did you finish the Lekki Mall proposal?"

The board meeting was a disaster. I was tapping my feet, watching the clock.

"Sit down, Segun!" I barked at the head of operations. He sat down immediately, trembling. 

"I don't know why I pay you people millions if I have to do the thinking for everyone. The state passed the new land law last week—we don't need to demolish the old structures. Build around the perimeter."

"But what about the widow's NGO building next door?" one manager asked.

"I am not in the business of 'Saving the World,' Gary. That’s for NGOs. My business is making sure this mall opens by December."

I dismissed them all, watching them scramble out of the room like rats. When the door closed, I slumped into my chair.

I wasn't always this wicked. I was a happy kid once. But everything changed when I was ten. My mother walked out on us when the money dried up. 

Andrew was only three. Then came the day I walked into the bedroom and saw my father with a gun.

"Daddy!" I had screamed. But the trigger was faster.

The blood was so red. It’s a color you never forget.

I fished a cigarette out of my pocket, my hands shaking. 

The smoke was the only thing that didn't ask me for money or favors. I had to grow up in the streets of Lagos, learning every trick to keep me and Andrew alive. The innocent boy died in that room with my father.

I checked my watch. Dammit. I was going to be late to meet Nneka. I grabbed my bag and headed for the private elevator.

"Hey, Big Bro! Wait!" Andrew caught up to me in the lobby. "Need to talk about the new site."

"Not now, Andy. I’m going to see Nneka."

"Jehovah! The day has come!" Andrew shouted, making people in the lobby turn. "My brother has found something more important than work! Hallelujah!"

"Don't be dramatic," I muttered.

"Name one other thing more important than your work. I dare you."

I opened my mouth, then closed it. I couldn't think of a single thing.

Just as I reached the glass doors, a voice boomed from behind. "Adeleke! My boy!"

I closed my eyes and forced a fake smile before turning. It was the State Governor, flanked by his guards.

"Governor! This is a surprise," I said, my heart sinking. I couldn't brush him off. I needed his signature for the next project.

"You’re a hard man to catch, Daniel! Do you have time for this old man?"

I glanced at the exit, then at the Governor. "Of course, Your Excellency. Right this way."

Nneka would have to wait. Business always came first.

                       ——   Chapter 8    ——

Nneka - POV

I sighed, circling the last number in my Sudoku book. I had finished five games already. I glanced at my cheap phone for the hundredth time. No call. No text.

Should I call him or wait another fifteen minutes? 

My confidence was beginning to leak away like a punctured bucket. I lowered my head, and for the first time in years, I felt the hot sting of shame.

Why did I buy this new top from the Yaba market? Why did I let my hair down and bother with lip gloss? Nneka, are you okay? The man is a married billionaire!

I bit my lip, letting my hair fall forward to hide my face. I told myself I just wanted his "approval" for the sake of the baby, but deep down, I didn't understand why his absence hurt so much. I’ve never cared about anyone’s opinion—so why him?

Just then, the cafe door opened. A tall man walked in. My heart did a sudden gbam-gbam in my chest, thinking it was Daniel. But as he got closer, I realized the face was different. Younger. A longer nose.

"Nneka?" he asked, standing by my table.

I nodded slowly.

"Daniel sent me. I'm his brother, Andrew," he said, holding out a hand. I eyed it like a suspicious Lagosian before shaking it.

"He couldn't make it?"

"Work held him up. The Governor, specifically. You know how it is."

My shoulders slumped. So, the Governor was more important than the woman carrying his heir. Typical.

Andrew slid into the booth opposite me. Like Daniel, he was well-built and undeniably "spec," but while Daniel was intense and tightly coiled like a spring, Andrew felt... easy. Like a cold bottle of Maltina on a hot afternoon.

"Your brother sounds like a very important man," I said, trying to keep my voice neutral.

"Important? Nneka, he owns one of the biggest construction firms in Nigeria!"

"Really? That’s nice for him," I said, sipping my cold coffee.

He laughed. "You don't look impressed at all."

"Should I be?" I shrugged. "I’m just here to carry the baby. Whether he has billions or trillions doesn't change the price of bread."

Andrew stared at me over his mug, then cleared his throat. "So... the pregnancy? Is everything okay? Have you seen the doctor?"

"Everything is fine. My next appointment is in a month."

"Okay... good." The silence was awkward.

"Your brother must be very happy," I added, because for some reason, I couldn't stop myself from wanting to hear his name.

"He's..." Andrew paused, laughing shortly. "He's as happy as Daniel Adeleke can be."

"What does that mean?"

Andrew hesitated, then leaned in. "Look, he didn't really want kids at first. It was all Funke. It's always been Funke. Things have been... cold... between them since the first two attempts failed."

"Oh."

"I just hope this baby brings out a different side of him. He deserves to be happy," Andrew said quietly.

"You really care about him," I observed.

"He basically raised me. Our dad..." Andrew stopped, catching himself, but then he looked at me, calculating if I could handle the truth. "He shot himself when Daniel was only ten. Daniel was right there. He saw everything."

The coffee in my mouth suddenly tasted like ash. I’ve had my own share of shege in this life, but watching your father do that?

I wondered about that ten-year-old boy. How long did he sit there next to the body before help came? Is that why he works like a machine? 

Because the silence of that room still haunts him?

"Sorry, that was too heavy," Andrew said, pulling me back. "I just didn't want you to think he’s a bad person for not showing up today. 

He’s been working to survive since he was a child. He’s a workaholic. That won't change overnight."

"I understand, Andrew."

He reached into his blazer and pulled out a sleek, expensive-looking box. 

"Anyway, Daniel really wanted me to tell you that the contract is just paper. If you need anything, just call. And... he wanted you to have this."

"What is it?"

"Open it and see!"

                          ——   Chapter 9    ——

Daniel - POV

"Something smells nice!" Funke chirped, dropping her designer shopping bags on the floor. I threw the kitchen towel over my shoulder and tasted the soup.

Needs a little more salt.

I was busy with the spices when Funke started banging the kitchen drawers. "What are you looking for?" I asked.

"A bowl and spoon! Rosita!" she hollered for the maid.

I sighed and handed her a bowl from the cabinet she couldn't see. She rushed to the stove and tried to scoop from the pot. "Ouch!" she screamed, jumping back. "I burned my finger! I thought this thing was supposed to be safe!"

"That's because you’re touching a gas burner, Funke. We’ve lived here five years. When did we ever use induction?"

She rolled her eyes. "Why do you make everything so hard, Dan? Why not just buy the easy one?"

I didn't answer. I focused on packing a fresh portion of the soup into an airtight container and placing it in a heatproof bag.

"It’s Sunday. Isn’t Andrew coming over?" she asked.

"Yes," I replied, tucking a napkin into the bag.

"Then who is that soup for?"

"Nneka."

The kitchen went dead silent. I kept wiping the counter, but I could feel her eyes burning into my back.

"Why?" she hissed. "Why are you cooking for her, Daniel? Why are you being so 'nice' to a common surrogate?"

My jaw clenched. Making food for the woman carrying my heir felt like the most natural thing in the world. Why was Funke making it sound like a crime?

"Funke, please..." I turned around, but before she could explode, the kitchen door swung open.

"Hey people!" Andrew beamed, holding a long loaf of Agege bread. "I found a bakery that makes the best gourmet bread and thought it would go well with whatever Oga is cooking."

His smile died the moment he saw Funke’s face. "Is everything okay?"

I gave Funke a look that said 'Don't even start.' "Everything is fine, Andy. Come in."

Looking at my brother, I remembered the small boy who used to cry whenever I left for work. He was the reason I stayed out of trouble. After Dad died, I nearly ended up in Kirikiri. My temper was wild. 

But as the police led me away that one time, I saw Andy standing alone—abandoned just like I was.

I promised myself that day: I wouldn't leave him behind. I went into construction, used the heavy lifting to burn off my anger, and built this empire.

I shook off the memory. Funke stormed out of the kitchen, but not before Andrew called out, "Oh, and D, I got the internet data for the phone you bought for Nneka."

Funke froze in the doorway, her eyes like daggers. I ignored her. "Thanks, man."

"Yeah, since you're traveling to Japan for the next two weeks for that project, I didn't want her to be stranded."

Nneka - POV

"Oh, thank God!" I exclaimed as I opened my door to find a very cold-looking Funke standing there. "I’ve been trying to call you, but some thief snatched my phone at the bus stop!"

Funke didn't even pity me. She just walked into my tiny apartment, her face stiff from a fresh Botox treatment.

"I’m surprised that’s all that happened," she sneered, sitting on my sofa. "In this kind of neighborhood, it’s a miracle they haven't kidnapped you yet."

I ignored the insult. "I was making coffee. You want some?"

"No, thank you." Her nostrils flared—the only part of her face she could still move.

I grabbed my mug and sat opposite her, holding out my old, cracked spare phone. "Can you save your number and Daniel’s? I lost everything."

"That won't be necessary," she said, and her voice was like ice. "We are moving to Japan for the next two years. Daniel has already left."

My heart dropped. "What? Without saying anything?"

"Yes. And we’ve decided... we don't want the baby anymore. It’s too much stress with the new project and the move."

The room went silent. I couldn't breathe. "What do you mean you don't want the baby?"

"I think you should go for an abortion," she said casually, as if she was telling me to change my shoes.

I almost dropped my coffee. "Funke, what the actual hell?! Are you serious right now?"

"Listen, Nneka. That baby was never yours. Why are you catching feelings? You're only ten weeks. It's easy at this stage. 

You’ll still get your full payment, so what is the problem?"

I stood up, shaking with rage. "The problem is that this is a LIFE, Funke! Not a designer bag you can order and then cancel when you get bored!"

"You think I don't know that?!" she snapped, standing up to meet my eyes. "I’ve lost two of my own before! You think I’d do this if I had a choice?"

"Then don't do it! Hire a nanny! But don't ask me to kill a child because it's 'inconvenient' for your move!"

Funke suddenly changed her tone. She reached out and grabbed my hand, her voice turning fake-sweet. "Nneka, I'm sorry. 

But Daniel and I agreed. We need a fresh start in Japan to fix our marriage. Dragging a baby along will ruin everything."

"I... I can keep the baby. I'll look after it until you come back," I whispered. I didn't even know why I was saying it.

She patted my face—hard. It felt more like a slap. "Honey, do you think we would trust a girl with a criminal record to raise an Adeleke heir?"

My blood ran cold. "How did you..."

"I did a background check, Nneka. I know about your 'run-in' with the law. And this Japan project is worth 200 billion dollars. 

Do you even understand the stakes?"

Tears started rolling down my face. "Does Daniel... does he really want this? Does he know?"

"Of course! He never wanted a baby. It was all my idea. He just didn't want to tell me no."

I remembered what Andrew said: 'He didn't really want kids... it was all Funke.'

"He’s a workaholic, Nneka. Nothing is more important to him than his business."

I nodded, my heart breaking into a million pieces.

"Aww, don't cry," Funke cooed, pouting like a doll. "This is actually a blessing. 

Pregnancy would have ruined your body. Now, your mother’s bills are paid, and you can finally go to culinary school.

 I spoke to your boss; she says you’re a genius with a knife. This is your sign to finally follow your dreams and become a big Chef."

                         ——   Chapter 10    ——

Nneka - POV

I sat on the cold hospital bed, my feet in the stirrups. Funke stood next to me, her diamonds reflecting the harsh clinic lights. She was smiling, but it felt like a smirk—like she had already won a war I didn't know we were fighting.

"Everything is ready," the doctor said, entering with a kind smile. "It’s a small procedure, it won't take long. We just need one last ultrasound to make sure the baby is okay before we... proceed."

I nodded, my heart heavy.

"Where is Dr. Farlin?" Funke asked, sounding annoyed.

"Emergency. I’ll be taking over. Has he been your primary doctor?"

"Yes," Funke answered for me as the doctor squeezed the cold gel onto my stomach.

Suddenly, Funke’s phone rang. She rolled her eyes and picked up. "Hello? Yes!"

"Madam, please, we are in the middle of a scan," the doctor said, irritated.

"Whatever! Nneka, I have to take this. You guys go ahead. I’ll catch up." She reached into her designer bag and shoved a wad of 1,000 Naira notes into my hand. "Here is for your Uber back. See ya!"

She strutted out, her heels clicking like a countdown. I felt a pit in my stomach. The doctor moved the probe over my belly, and suddenly, a loud galloping sound filled the room—lub-dub, lub-dub. I looked at the screen. Shadows danced, and then I saw it—a tiny, perfect limb.

"Is that the baby?" I whispered.

The doctor smiled, his eyes widening as he looked at the monitor. "It’s a bit more than that, Nneka. Look closely."

Daniel - POV

I didn't just ring the doorbell; I tried to break the door down.

"Daniel! What—!" Funke’s face went white as she opened the door. I shoved past her, my blood boiling. She stumbled, her silk nightgown shifting to reveal her red lace bra.

I looked up at the stairs and saw Javier—the pool boy—trying to hide in the shadows.

"You. Come down. Now," I said, pointing two fingers at him. He stayed put, shaking like a leaf.

"Daniel, what are you doing here? You’re supposed to be in Japan!" Funke stammered, pulling her gown shut.

"I came back early. Andrew called me. He saw Javier sneaking out of our back door two days ago. Funke, again? In our own house?"

My hands were shaking. The rage was so hot I felt cold.

"She lost the baby!" Funke suddenly screamed.

I froze. My heart stopped. "Who?"

"Nneka! She lost our baby, Daniel! A week ago!" she sobbed, falling to the floor. "It happened again! I lost another one!"

The world went gray. My baby. My only hope for something real. Gone. I felt hollow, like an empty building.

"Get out," I said. My voice was flat. Dead.

"What?"

"Get the f*ck out before I do something we both regret."

I slumped against the wall, sliding down to the floor. Maybe I was destined to be alone. Maybe the Adeleke bloodline ends with me.

"Dan... I..." Funke sniffled. "It might have been pretend for you, but for me, it was real. I was so desperate to keep you that I let another woman have your child."

I didn't look at her.

"The doctor told me my eggs were no good," she confessed through tears. "I knew we were drifting apart, and I thought only a baby could save us. So I... I used Nneka’s eggs. She isn't just a surrogate, Daniel. That baby is biologically YOURS and HERS."

I blinked. The world tilted. Nneka isn't just a carrier? She’s the mother?

"This is how much I love you!" Funke rambled, reaching out to touch my arm. "I just wanted us to be a family!"

As her skin touched mine, I felt a bolt of pure electricity—not love, but horror.

"Funke! What the f*ck have you done?!"

       

                        ——   Chapter 11   ——

Daniel - POV

Funke was still crying, trying to play the victim. "I was never going to tell you, Dan. I was going to raise that baby as mine... I’m telling you now because I love you."

"Shut up, Funke!" I roared. "You don’t love anyone but yourself! You did this because you wanted a 'doll' to play with! I never signed up for this mess!"

She stared at me, shocked into silence.

"Does Nneka even know what you did?" I demanded. "Does she know you used her eggs?"

Suddenly, the fear left Funke’s face, replaced by that sharp, Lagos-babe disdain. "Of course she knew, Daniel! Your 'precious' Nneka knew everything! How do you think I got the eggs? She went through the surgery willingly! In fact..." She paused, then lowered her voice. "I think she lost the baby on purpose."

My heart hammered. "What?"

"She knew it was a secret from you. She started blackmailing me, asking for more millions! When I refused, she called me saying she was bleeding. The doctor said she miscarried, but I know it in my gut—she did it just to spite me."

I stared at Funke. Something wasn't adding up. I’ve dealt with all kinds of people in this city—area boys, crooked politicians, greedy contractors. I know when someone is lying. 

This story about Nneka being a blackmailer didn't sit right with the woman I met in that cafe.

I pulled out my phone and dialed Nneka’s number. I needed to hear the truth.

"Who are you calling?" Funke asked. "If it’s her, forget it. Her number is off. She asked me never to contact her again. She even took the full nine-month stipend before disappearing. She’s a swindler, Dan."

The call went straight to voicemail. Beep. "Just let it go," Funke whispered, touching my arm. "We are enough for each other."

I looked at her hand like it was a snake. I pried it off. "Pack your bags. You have until tonight to get out of my house."

I walked past her and Javier, who was still standing there like a statue. I was done.

"So the Japan project is cancelled?" Andrew asked me in the office the next day.

"Yeah," I muttered, flipping through files.

"Sorry, Big Bro. But I have a question... why didn't you ever ask Nneka out? I mean, besides the baby thing."

I paused. "You told me you liked her, Andy. That’s why I went to Japan. I wanted to give you space and kill whatever feeling I was developing."

"I thought about it, D," Andrew sighed. "But it felt wrong while she was carrying your kid. I decided to wait until she delivered. It was too complicated."

My grip tightened on my pen. "Wait... Andy, you don't know? Nneka lost the baby."

Andrew jumped in his seat. "What?! No! D, I’m so sorry. I had no idea..."

"Yeah... Funke is 'dealing' with it," I said sarcastically.

Just then, my secretary Jane walked in. She was looking sharp in a pink blazer. "The files you asked for, Mr. Adeleke."

"Thanks, Jane. You look nice."

"Thank you, Daniel," she smiled. "But please, can you stop sending those extra transfers to my account? I told you things were tight, but I’m not looking for a handout."

"It’s not a handout, Jane. I take care of my people."

Andrew cleared his throat. "So, about the surrogate..."

"She lost the baby, Jane," I said, the words feeling like lead. "Apparently, she was just a scammer looking for a payday."

Jane gasped, covering her mouth. "Are you sure?"

I opened the red folder Jane had just brought. My heart sank as I saw the documents. Nneka’s signature. Her consent for the egg retrieval. The bank transfer receipts.

"I am now," I whispered. The evidence was right there. Nneka had sold her eggs, taken the money, and vanished.

                         ——   Chapter 12    ——

2 Months Later: Nneka - POV

"The blood clot was in her lungs. We took it out, but there are complications," Dr. Collin said, his voice heavy with pity.

I sank onto my mother’s hospital bed, feeling the weight of the world. "How much this time, Doctor?"

"Mia... I wish I could help. but it’s been ten years. Nobody wants to sponsor a patient on life support for that long. Are you sure that rich couple can't help again?"

"I'm on my own, Dr. Collin."

"Not exactly," he whispered, looking at my growing bump. "You have two souls depending on you now. Twins, Nneka. This pregnancy will take everything from you."

Twins. My hands trembled as I touched my stomach.

"How much is the bill?" I asked, my voice cracking.

"With the surgery and arrears? About 15 Million Naira."

15 Million. I felt like I was drowning. The only way to get that kind of money was to pull my rent deposit. 

But if I did that, I’d be sleeping on the streets of Lagos with a five-month pregnancy.

I walked out of the hospital, the cool evening breeze hitting my face. I didn't regret keeping them. Not for a second. Even though Funke had threatened me.

I remembered going to Daniel’s office two months ago, hoping to tell him the truth. But I didn't even get past the lobby. Funke had met me there, her face twisted in a sneer.

"If you ever come near my husband again, I’ll throw you in Kirikiri to rot!" she had screamed. "Daniel has the best lawyers in Nigeria. We will drain every kobo you have. Stay away!"

She made it clear: Daniel didn't want me. Daniel didn't want them.

By the time I finished my shift at the restaurant, my legs were swollen. I went home and opened my fridge. One slice of stale bread. A tiny bit of peanut butter. I ate it in two bites, but the twins were still hungry. 

My stomach growled so loudly it echoed in the empty room.

I grabbed my last food stamps and went to the supermarket.

"How far along?" the cashier asked, smiling at my bump.

"Five months. It’s twins," I said.

"Wow! Double the blessings, double the bills," she sighed, looking at my food stamps. "Is daddy supportive? Formula is expensive o!"

"Yes," I blurted out, the lie tasted like copper in my mouth. "He’s very supportive. We’re actually planning our wedding soon..."

As I walked home, I let myself believe the lie for a moment. I imagined a different Daniel. Not the billionaire in the suit, but a Daniel in a simple T-shirt, waiting for me at home. 

He’d kiss my forehead, fix the leaking sink, and tell me not to worry about the bills. We’d look at baby clothes together and laugh.

"Excuse me, Madam! You can't pass here!"

The dream shattered. A construction worker was blocking the road. I had to walk three extra blocks in the cold. 

The smell of fried chicken hit me from a nearby shop. My body craved it so much I felt dizzy. I watched a happy couple walk in, holding hands.

Reality hit me like a slap: I was alone. No Daniel. No chicken. Just me, two babies, and a world that didn't care.

1 Month Later (The Breaking Point)

Crash!

The tray slipped from my hands, plates shattering everywhere. The restaurant blurred. I hadn't eaten in twenty-four hours.

"Nneka, in my office. Now," Mrs. Malcolm said.

I followed her, my heart racing. "Ma, please, it was just a dizzy spell. I’ll be more careful—"

"I found your sleeping bag in the store room, Nneka," she said, her voice softening with pity. "You’ve been living in the restaurant?"

I looked at the floor, tears hot in my eyes. "I had to use my rent money for my mom’s surgery. Please, I have nowhere else to go."

"I can't let you stay here. It’s a liability. And with the robberies in this neighborhood? It’s not safe for a pregnant woman." She handed me a card for a women’s shelter. "Go there. They will take you in."

I walked out into the dark night, my bag heavy on my shoulder. The street was eerily quiet. I turned a corner, hugging my belly, praying to reach the bus stop safely.

BAM!

Someone rammed into me. Before I could scream, a rough hand shoved me against the cold brick wall. My head hit the stone, and the world spun.

"Shut up! Don't make a sound!" a man hissed. I felt the cold, sharp edge of a switchblade pressed against my throat.

I didn't care about my phone or my bag. I only thought of one thing as I wrapped my arms around my bump.

Please, God. Not the babies.

                        ——   Chapter 13    ——

Nneka - POV

"Shut up! Just keep your mouth shut!" the man hissed, pressing the blade deeper into my throat.

I couldn't even breathe. I nodded, trembling, as he pinned me against the wall. Just as his hand started to move down, a voice hissed from the shadows.

"Yo Raf! What are you doing? Cops are around the corner, man! Let’s go!"

The man, Raf, pulled away. I gasped, thanking God for the police—but before I could even stand straight, pain exploded in my head. 

THWACK! He had smashed the butt of the knife into my face.

The world went black for a second. When I opened my eyes, my bag was gone. My money. My phone. Everything. I slumped to the ground, my hands flying to my belly.

The babies.

I felt a small prod against my palm. A kick. They were okay. I wiped my face and my hand came away red. Blood. I sat there in the dirt, staring at the red on my fingers. No money. No phone. No home. Where was I supposed to go?

It took hours to find the strength to stand. I limped back to the restaurant, but the "Closed" sign was already blinking red. My heart sank.

I reached into my pocket and felt the orange card Mrs. Malcolm had given me. The shelter. It was about a thirty-minute walk. If I could just get there, I’d be safe.

I started walking, one painful step at a time. My head throbbed, and my blood sugar was so low I could feel my brain rattling. 

I saw a man toss a Styrofoam cup into a bin across the street. I didn't even think twice—I ran over, fished it out, and drained the last few drops of lukewarm sugary tea. It was enough to keep me upright for two more blocks.

"I’m sorry, but you need an ID," the woman at the shelter said. We were sitting by a warm fire, but I couldn't stop shivering.

"My bag was stolen. My wallet was in there. Please."

"You have to go to the police first," she said gently.

"I’ll go tomorrow! But I need a bed tonight. I have nowhere else." I cradled my bump, wincing as one of the twins kicked my ribs.

"Is there anyone who can vouch for you? Anyone you can call?"

I sighed, defeated. "All my contacts were on my phone."

"I’m sorry, honey. Without security clearance, I can't let you stay. It’s for the safety of the other women."

I felt the last bit of hope leave my body. "Can I... can I at least have some bread? I’m so hungry."

The woman clicked her teeth. "The kitchen is locked. I don’t have the key. My shift is over now, I have to head home."

She saw the look on my face and pressed a small pack of crackers into my hand. "It’s all I have in my purse. I wish I could do more."

I clutched those crackers like they were made of gold. I stumbled out onto the stairs and my knees finally gave out. I collapsed into a heap. The wind whipped my face, blowing the empty cracker wrapper into the dark.

I couldn't even cry. I was just... done.

I curled up on the cold stone steps. My life had never been easy, but I had never felt this level of darkness. I didn't want to die, but I didn't have the strength to live anymore either.

Maybe this is what my mother felt before she jumped. Maybe this is what my sister felt before she drowned. That feeling of looking death in the face and realizing you're too tired to look away.

The stars were so bright tonight. 

The air was calm. It felt like a good night to just... stop.

                         ——   Chapter 14    ——

Daniel - POV

It was a crisp, cold Lagos morning. I was out for my routine jog, trying to clear the fog in my head. I stopped to catch my breath near an old three-story building on McDonald Street—the very edge of the perimeter for our new mall project.

I jogged toward the building, but stopped dead in my tracks. A woman was sprawled across the front steps, shivering. Her long chestnut hair covered her face, and one hand was resting protectively over a large, round belly.

I hesitated. I don't usually get involved in street drama, but she was clearly pregnant and in trouble.

"Excuse me, Miss? Are you okay?" I asked, pulling out my AirPods.

She whimpered, her body curling into a ball. I rushed to her side to help her up. "Here, let me—"

The words died in my throat as her hair fell back.

"Nneka?" I breathed.

She didn't answer. Her head slumped onto my shoulder, her skin as cold as ice. My heart stopped.

"Nneka! Wake up!" I growled, fumbling for my phone. "God, no. Please, no."

"She’s almost six months along, but she’s dangerously malnourished. Her body is just... shutting down," the doctor told me.

I stood by Nneka’s bed, my arms crossed, feeling a sickness in my gut I couldn't explain.

"She has mild pneumonia and hypothermia," the doctor continued, peering over her glasses. "It’s a miracle she survived the night on those stone steps. 

Once she’s discharged, Mr. Adeleke, she needs zero stress. She needs to eat every three hours to get her weight back up."

I nodded, unable to speak. My eyes drifted to her swollen belly. "And the baby?"

"Well... not baby. Babies. Twins. She’s carrying twins."

The air left my lungs. Twins. My children.

"They are small for their age, but with rest and a proper diet, they’ll catch up."

The doctor left, and I slumped into an armchair. Guilt—ugly, bitter, and heavy—crushed me. I held her limp hand. Her skin was pale, her cheekbones sharp. And there was a massive bruise on her left cheek. 

Someone had hit her.

I traced the bruise with my finger, my heart racing. I had my assistant, Jane, dig into everything. 

The truth was a nightmare: Nneka’s mother’s surgery, the lost apartment, the stolen bag... she had been living in a closet while I was sitting in my mansion.

Why the hell did I believe Funke? I know she’s a liar, yet I let her convince me that Nneka was a scammer who aborted my kids. Because of my pride, my children were starving inside their mother.

I’ve failed at many things, but I’ve never failed as a man. 

Until today. What kind of man lets the mother of his children sleep on the street? I looked at my reflection in the hospital mirror. I am tall and powerful, but right now, I am the smallest man in Lagos.

"Daniel?"

A soft, broken voice pulled me back. Nneka was awake. But those warm, beautiful eyes I remembered were now dull and full of fear.

Nneka - POV

I woke up in a room that was too bright. Everything was blurry. I tried to move my arm, but it felt like lead. A tube was taped to my skin.

I turned my head and saw a man sitting in the shadows of the armchair, his face buried in his hands. He looked familiar.

"Daniel?" I whispered.

He looked up immediately. My pulse went into overdrive. The babies! I grabbed my stomach—it was still round and hard. Thank God.

"Nneka, you’re awake," he said, standing up. He seemed even bigger than before, like a giant.

Fear gripped my throat. This was the man who didn't want these kids. The man Funke said would throw me in jail. Is he here to finish the job? Is he going to take them away?

I whimpered, trying to bury myself in the pillows. I wanted to disappear.

He saw the terror in my eyes and stepped back. "I’ll... I’ll call the doctor," he said, sounding unsure.

"N-no! Daniel, please!" I fumbled over my words. I’ve been through hell for these babies. I can’t let him corner me. I looked at the door, waiting for Funke to burst in and scream at the doctors to rip the babies out of me.

Why am I shaking? Why is the room spinning again?

                         ——   Chapter 15    ——

Nneka - POV

I was terrified. Every time Daniel moved, I thought it was the end.

"Nneka, hey, calm down!" he said, his voice deep and steady.

Suddenly, the door burst open and a team of doctors rushed in. "Her heart rate is through the roof!" the lead doctor, Dr. Patel, noted. She turned to me with a kind smile. "Hello, Nneka. I’m Dr. Patel. 

Can you tell me if you’re in any pain?"

I shook my head stiffly. "N-no. The babies... are they—"

"They’re okay," she reassured me, guiding me back onto the pillows. "We’ll do a quick scan just to be sure."

The cold gel hit my stomach, and then it came—thump-thump, thump-thump. The galloping sound of two hearts filled the room. I let out the breath I didn’t know I was holding. They were still there. They were still fighting.

Dr. Patel checked my lungs and smiled. "The antibiotics are working. But you need to relax, Nneka. Stress is your biggest enemy right now." 

She glanced at Daniel, sensing the thick tension between us. "I’ll give you two some privacy."

When they left, the silence felt like a heavy blanket.

"Nneka, is there something you want to say?" Daniel asked. He looked more confused than angry, and I realized I had to try. I had to beg for their lives.

"Daniel... I’m sorry," I started, my voice thin. If I was submissive, maybe he wouldn't be so harsh.

"It’s alright, Nneka," he sighed. "What’s done is done. Let’s just worry about the future."

The future? Did he mean a future where I’m in jail and my babies are gone? My heart started racing again. "No! Please, Daniel, listen! I was going to get the abortion like you guys wanted! I tried to tell Funke, but she wouldn't listen!"

The tears were hot and fast now. "Please, don't kill them now. They’re big. They’re alive. They kick like crazy when they smell fried chicken!" I was rambling, desperate. "Please, just let them live."

I lowered my head, waiting for him to yell. Instead, I felt the bed dip as he sat beside me.

Daniel - POV

She looked so small, her face pale and wet with tears. When she said she was sorry, I assumed she was talking about the egg retrieval—how she and Funke had gone behind my back. I was ready to overlook it for now just to keep her stable.

But then she said the most bizarre thing I’ve ever heard.

"I was going to get the abortion like you guys wanted."

I froze. "What?"

"I tried to tell Funke... Please don’t kill them now."

The words hit me like a physical punch. Why was she begging me to spare my own children? What kind of monster did she think I was?

"Nneka, listen to me." I waited until she looked at me. "I NEVER wanted you to have an abortion."

Her eyes widened. "Then why did you send Funke to my house that day?"

"I didn't send her. I didn't even know she went there."

"But... you moved to Japan?"

"I was gone for two weeks on business, Nneka. Who told you I was moving?"

"Funke," she whispered. "She said you didn't want the baby because of the move and I should end it."

The rage I felt for Funke at that moment was cold and dangerous. She had tried to murder my children and frame me for it.

"And Andrew?" I asked, confused. "She said Andrew told her too."

"No," Nneka clarified. "Andrew just said you didn't want kids at first. So I thought Funke was telling the truth."

I sighed deeply, trying to process the mess. "Nneka, I am grateful you are carrying my children. I never wanted them gone. Ever."

She stilled, absorbing the truth. But then she frowned. "It doesn't make sense... Why would Funke push so hard for a baby, only to try and kill her own children?"

Her own children? I stared at Nneka. She doesn't know. She actually thinks the babies are Funke’s. How did Funke pull off an egg retrieval without Nneka realizing they were her eggs? 

This was a deeper web of lies than I imagined.

But looking at Nneka—frail, weak, and shaking—I knew I couldn't drop that bombshell yet. She needed peace, not more shocks.

"That's just how she is, Nneka. She changes her mind," I said, masking my frustration. "Are you hungry? What do you feel like eating?"

She hesitated, looking unsure.

"How about some fried chicken?" I suggested.

The way her face brightened instantly... it was the first bit of light I’d seen in her eyes. And in that moment, I knew I would do whatever it took to keep that light there.

                       ——   Chapter 16    ——

Nneka - POV

Daniel was in the corner, talking to Dr. Patel. Their whispers were serious, and his frown never left his face. When Dr. Patel approached me, her smile was kind.

"Nneka, everything looks good. Your body is responding well. You should be discharged by the end of the week."

Home. My heart sank. Where even was home anymore?

"One more question," she continued. "About your medical history. Did you have any procedure requiring anesthesia before the surrogacy?"

I thought about it. "I had a DNC. The doctor said something about a scar on my uterus that needed fixing."

Dr. Patel exchanged a quick, knowing glance with Daniel. My gut clenched. "Is something wrong?"

"No, dear. How long after that treatment did you conceive?"

"Next month."

She nodded, writing on her clipboard. "You tested positive for PTSD, Nneka. You almost lost your life, and your brain needs time to heal. We’ll be tapering off your anti-anxiety meds as they're not safe for long-term use during pregnancy."

"Side effects?" Daniel asked, stepping closer.

"Nightmares, palpitations, resurfacing of past trauma. Dr. Roberts, our psych expert, will explain more this evening."

When Dr. Patel left, Daniel’s gaze was intense. "Why did you do it, Nneka? Why did you keep the babies when you thought we didn’t want them?"

I sighed, looking at my hands. "I don’t know, Daniel. It was stupid, right? Look where it got me."

He sat on the bed beside me, his jaw tight. "I’m sorry for what you went through. Nothing I say can erase it. But I want to take care of you now. Can you let me do that?"

My heart skipped a beat. "Take care of me... how?"

"Whatever you need."

"My hospital bills," I admitted, the words heavy. "I don’t have insurance."

"Yes," he said, without hesitation.

"And the shelter? Will you vouch for me? I lost my ID."

He frowned. "Why the shelter? You don't have a place to stay?"

"I... I had to use my rent for my mother’s surgery."

"Nneka, you’re staying with me. You’re not becoming homeless again." He said it so simply, so firmly.

"Will I have to pay rent?" I whispered, hating how small I sounded.

"God, no!" he snapped, and my cheeks burned. Trust was a luxury I couldn't afford. The last time someone offered help with no strings, I ended up in jail. "Just making sure."

"What about Funke?" I asked. My eyes drifted to his hand, and I noticed his wedding band was gone.

"We’re getting a divorce. You don't have to worry about her."

"Oh... I’m so sorry," I lied, not feeling sorry at all.

His gaze softened. He reached for my hand. "May I?" he asked, surprising me.

 I nodded, and he gently took my hand, his grip firm. "Nneka, you've been on your own for too long. But you have me now. Your only job is to relax and trust me. I’ll handle the rest."

Something stirred in me. Trust. It was a terrifying word. But what was the worst that could happen now? I'd already been to hell and back. I looked into his eyes, that smoldering fire still there, but now, mixed with a deep protectiveness.

"Do you want to feel them?" I asked softly, slipping my hand from his and guiding his palm to my belly.

As if on cue, the twins kicked hard, right into his hand. His whole body froze. "Does it hurt?" he whispered, awe plain on his face.

He looked so young, so awestruck. Not the brooding Daniel I first met, but the gentle one I had imagined. "You’re going to be a great dad," I smiled, resting my hand over his. "And whatever it is, we’ll handle it together. Because if I have you... then you have me too, right?"

Daniel - POV

She was asleep, her hands relaxed in mine. My boys. She told me they were boys. It was wild that with everything going on, I hadn't even thought to ask.

I studied her face—smooth forehead, soft brows, a tiny mole beneath her nose. She looked angelic. Fragile. But she wasn't. She was resilient. Brave. She didn't need me to fight for her, just to be there.

"If I have you, then you have me too, right?" Her words echoed in my mind. She wanted to help me when she was barely holding on herself. This kind of strength... it was beautiful.

She was worried about rent? My kids’ mother, worried about rent? It was frustrating, but also sweet. She had no idea of the power she held.

My phone buzzed. Mac. I carefully slipped my hand from hers, feeling an unexpected chill. "Talk to me, Mac."

"Hey, Dan! You were right. Nneka’s signatures were all fake. Not just the consent form, but other places too."

Funke. I closed my eyes.

"Good news is, your case is stronger. With Nneka’s testimony, Celeste and her doctor are looking at a decent sentence. We can get her out of your bank, out of your house, out of your life."

"Good."

"But Nneka's testimony is key. If she confirms her eggs were used without consent, we’ve got Celeste in a chokehold."

"No, Mac. Not today. I haven't told her yet."

"Daniel, as your lawyer and your friend, it’s not a good idea to keep this from her."

"I know," I sighed. "But she’s weak. PTSD. No more stress. She needs to be stronger before I drop this bomb."

"Alright. Let me know. Oh! One more thing—the Governor signed off on demolishing the shelter site for the mall."

"I think we need another option. We’re building around it."

"Dan, that’ll cost a fortune."

"Money isn't everything."

Silence.

"Mac, you there?"

"I'm sorry, is that it? I was waiting for the punchline."

I laughed, then hung up. When I opened the door, Nneka was still sleeping, a bit of color returning to her cheeks. She stirred, her lashes fluttering.

A strange, fierce protectiveness surged through me. This woman had been through hell, fighting for children she didn’t even know were hers. By some miracle, I had found her. 

Now, all I had to do was hold on tight. I couldn’t let her slip through my fingers again. No matter what.

                       ——   Chapter 17    ——

Nneka - POV

"Welcome home!" Daniel said, squeezing my hand as the car pulled up to a massive iron gate.

My mouth fell open. 

This wasn't just a house; it was a kingdom. A sprawling garden, a tennis court, a pond with a boat, and—was that a freaking helipad? By the time we reached the front of the modern glass mansion, I was dazed.

"You like it?" Daniel asked, looking amused.

"No, it’s disgusting," I whispered, still staring. "Daniel, I knew you were rich... but not RICH-rich."

He chuckled. "Well, now you know."

Inside was even better—stone waterfalls, open-plan lounges, and leather sofas that probably cost more than my life. Daniel led me to an elevator and we went to the first floor. He stopped at a door with a keypad. "This is your room. The code is 7777."

The room was a masterpiece. A raised platform for a huge bed, a fireplace, and a view of the lawns that looked like a painting. Then he showed me the closet. It was stocked with a fridge, a microwave, and racks of clothes he’d bought for me.

"I didn't get much because I didn't know your style," he said. "We can go shopping tomorrow if you feel up to it."

Shopping? I usually bought my clothes from Goodwill. I looked at the bathroom next—a massive white tub, a rainfall shower, and marble everywhere. I hadn't taken a real bath since I was a kid.

"Should I run you a bath?" he asked.

I nodded wordlessly. For the first time in months, I didn't have to worry about a water bill or rushing to work. I could just soak and breathe.

Daniel - POV

I was in my study, trying to focus on a construction proposal, but my mind kept drifting. I’d been at the hospital with Nneka for a week and work was piling up. I stood up to grab a coffee pod from my walk-in closet, but I was out.

On my way to the kitchen, I noticed Nneka’s door was open. Why was she sleeping with the lights on?

I peeked in and saw her sprawled across the bed, fast asleep. She was still in a towel, which had slipped to reveal her bump. 

The window was wide open, and the cold night wind was blowing right on her. She was shivering, and her hair was soaking wet, staining the towel.

I walked in quietly and shut the window. I didn't want to wake her, but Dr. Patel was clear—Nneka couldn't afford to get sick again.

"Nneka," I said, shaking her shoulder gently. "Wake up and change."

She didn't move. I shook her a bit harder. "Nneka—"

Suddenly, an ear-piercing scream tore through the room. She started writhing and kicking with everything she had.

"No! No! Please!" she shrieked, her eyes wild with terror.

"Calm down! It’s me!" I roared, pinning her wrists with one hand and holding her legs down so she wouldn't hurt herself. We were both panting, our faces inches apart. "Nneka, look at me. It’s Daniel."

Her eyes finally focused. "Daniel?" she whispered, her voice trembling.

"Yes. You fell asleep in a wet towel. I was trying to wake you so you wouldn't catch a cold."

I released her, and she immediately covered her face, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs. "I thought... I thought someone broke in. I was so scared."

My heart twisted. This was the PTSD the doctor warned me about. She’d been through too much.

I didn't say anything; I just went to her closet and brought out a fresh sweatshirt and sweatpants. I helped her pull the shirt over her head and handed her the pants. 

Once she was dressed, I grabbed a hairdryer and plugged it in by the bed.

The room was silent except for the whir of the dryer. I gently ran my fingers through her soft hair, drying it carefully. 

When I was done, I unplugged it and turned to leave.

"Wait!" she called out behind me.

                        ——   Chapter 18  ——

Daniel - POV

"Wait!" Nneka called out as I turned to leave.

I stopped. She looked so small against those expensive pillows. "Three times," she whispered. 

"In the last year, I’ve been held at gunpoint. Twice, people broke into my room while I was sleeping to rob me. The last guy even tried to..." 

She trailed off, her eyes turning cold and distant.

"I lived in the trenches, Daniel. When I wake up with a man over me, I expect a blade or a blow, not a hairdryer. I’m sorry for screaming, but that’s how I’m wired to survive."

My heart physically ached. I sat back down on the edge of the bed. "I understand. And I am sorry for scaring you. But I promise you, Nneka—on my life—I will never let anyone hurt you or the boys again. You are safe here."

I reached out and rested my palm on her bump. Almost instantly, the twins kicked. It was surreal. These tiny humans were half of me, and for a second, I wondered if they were scared too. Did they feel their mother’s heart racing?

I kept my hand there until they settled against my palm, as if they recognized my touch. Nneka yawned, her eyelids getting heavy. I started to withdraw my hand, but she stopped me.

"Daniel... can you stay? Just until I fall asleep?" She bit her lip, looking like she expected me to say no.

"Sure," I said softly.

She tucked her face into the pillow, and within minutes, her breathing slowed. She was out—peaceful, warm, and finally trusting me. Watching her like that did something to me. For the first time since my father died, that restless feeling in my chest started to quiet down.

I’ve spent my life hating women. My mother taught me they were selfish—that they bolt the moment things get hard. But Nneka? She’s the opposite. 

She stayed when it was hard. She fought when she had nothing. She didn't bolt; she stood her ground for my children.

My leg started to cramp, so I propped it up on the bed next to her. I watched the way her shirt moved when the boys shifted. What the hell is happening to me? This woman has touched a part of my heart I thought was dead.

Usually, I can't sleep without my pills. My bedside table is full of them. I told myself I’d stay for five minutes and then slip away to my own room to take my medication.

But her warmth was addictive. I leaned my head back against the headboard, watching her sleep. Just a few more minutes, I told myself. Just a little more of this peace.

I’m a billionaire, but tonight, this quiet room is the only thing I own that matters. I won't fall asleep here... I’m sure of it.

                            

                         ——   Chapter 19    ——

Daniel - POV

I ended up falling asleep. The sound of a door opening roused me as soft sunlight filtered through the window. I blinked, feeling confused; I had never slept in. 

Even with my pills, I was usually up before the sun, but today was different. I tried to sit up but felt a gentle weight on my chest. I looked down and saw the top of Nneka’s head, her chestnut hair sprawled across my chest and pillow.

A beeping sound from across the hall made me look up—someone was trying to get into my room. Frowning, I carefully untangled myself from Nneka. 

She was sound asleep and didn't budge. I cast her one last glance—hands curled next to her face, peaceful and soft. Something warm bloomed in my chest. I tiptoed out, but the lobby was empty.

I made my way downstairs to find Rosita handing Andrew a cup of coffee. "Morning big brother!" Andrew saluted me, looking sharp in a grey suit. "I went upstairs but couldn't find you. Your bed looked like it hadn't been slept in."

I cleared my throat, sliding onto a bar stool. "I slept in Nneka’s room." Andrew eyed my tousled hair and made the connection. Our relationship was complicated; I’d been more of a father to him since our dad’s suicide.

"What are you doing here, Andrew?" I asked as Rosita handed me my coffee.

"I came to pick you up. I thought we could discuss the Diamond project," he said, before peering at me cautiously. "You guys are together now?"

I shook my head. "Not exactly... it’s complicated."

"Really? So you won't mind if I ask her out?" 

Andrew teased. My fingers twitched, and I slammed my cup on the counter. "Andy, listen. I stepped aside for you. I went to Japan so you guys could have a chance. But you blew it. This house is her safe space, and I'm not letting another man in until she says so."

"Chill, D! She's all yours!" Andrew backed away.

"No, Andrew, she’s not mine," I corrected. "She belongs to herself. Only she decides who she wants to be with."

Andrew watched me carefully. "D... are you in love with her?" Silence filled the kitchen. I’ve only known her a week, but the question hung heavy. I opened my mouth to reply when I heard a light gasp. I looked to my right; Nneka was standing in the doorway, her hand covering her mouth.

Nneka - POV

I groaned as a twin poked my rib. I sat up, looking around the luxury room, remembering last night. I had almost kicked Daniel, told him my trauma, and made him babysit me. I smacked my face, embarrassed. Why did he go along with it? He even dried my hair.

Was this what it was like to have someone to count on? Was I dreaming? I felt alive, but maybe I had finally made up for my past sins. Maybe my punishment for Lilly and Mom was over. I hoped so. My bladder gave a twinge, and after a quick trip to the bathroom, my stomach grumbled. I needed breakfast.

I took the elevator down but stopped when I heard Daniel’s voice. "I went to Japan just so you guys can have a chance. But you blew it, man." He was talking about me. My heart skipped a beat. He went to Japan for Andrew? Andrew liked me?

"She’s nobody’s. She belongs to herself," Daniel’s voice was firm and protective. My fingers gripped the door frame. I leaned in to hear more, but my foot slipped on the tile and I gasped.

"Nneka." Daniel walked over, touching my forehead with the back of his hand. "No fever. Thank God." I nodded, sweating slightly at how he towered over me. He introduced Andrew, who offered a smile. 

I tried to return it, but my jaw felt tight—low blood sugar. Daniel guided me to a stool and poured me orange juice. I gulped it down and dropped my 

head on the counter.

Andrew excused himself, leaving us alone. "Better?" Daniel asked.

"Yeah," I smiled. He took a sip of coffee. "I have to go to work," he told me, and my shoulders slumped. 

He’d been babysitting me for a week; I knew he was busy, but I’d gotten used to him.

"Your nurse will be here soon," he said, reaching down to put a black card on the table. "Take the car and go shop. Get stuff for the babies too."

I eyed the card warily. "I don't need your money, Daniel," I whispered.

"Then what do you need?" He sounded genuinely curious.

"I don't know... I’ll miss you, I guess." I wiped a stray tear. "It’s just the hormones."

It felt scary without him. But I’d clung to him enough. He sat next to me, studying my face before whipping out his phone. "Jane, cancel the Aerobus meeting. I’ll be working from home."

My head snapped up. "You don't have to—"

"I know," he said simply. "But I will." I looked at our hands resting close together. I didn't have to hold it all together by myself today. And that felt pretty good.

                         ——   Chapter 20    ——

Nneka - POV

"Your nurse told me you requested a call with Dr. Roberts. Is everything alright?" Daniel asked over dinner. His chef, Riley, had just served us, but I barely had an appetite.

"Yeah... just some follow-up on the PTSD," I said dismissively, rubbing my throbbing temples.

The truth was, I was drowning. For three days, ever since leaving the hospital, I haven't slept. Every time I close my eyes, I’m back in that alleyway. I’m back in the cold. I’m tired and grouchy, and I can tell Daniel doesn't believe my "I’m okay" act.

"I’ve been having nightmares," I finally admitted. 

"Dr. Roberts told me to take the anti-anxiety meds, but I won't. They aren't ideal for the babies. They’re already underweight; I won't risk adding chemicals to the mix."

Daniel put his fork down, his eyes softening. "Nneka, your mental health matters. You need to focus on yourself."

"It’s just nightmares, Daniel. I’ve survived worse," I told him. But that night proved I was a liar.

The man in the ski mask grabbed my ankle. "Give me the money!" he hissed, pressing cold metal against my head. Suddenly, I was in the snow. A baby was crying. I ran toward the sound and stopped. There was a small, blue, unmoving body on the ground. Its eyes were open, staring at nothing.

"NO!" I screamed, bolting upright in bed. I was panting, drenched in sweat. The darkness of my room felt like it was crushing me.

Clank!

My heart leapt into my throat. Someone is in the house! I didn't think; I didn't grab a weapon. I just ran. I bolted into the lobby, my eyes darting through the shadows until I saw a sliver of light at the end of the hall. Daniel’s room.

"Daniel, there’s—" I burst in and stopped dead.

He was asleep on his stomach, wearing only boxer briefs. The moonlight hit the muscles of his bare back, making him look like a carved statue.

Clank!

I looked up. It was the vent. The hum of the AC kicked in, and I realized it was just the thermostat. I let out a jagged breath and sank onto the thick, soft carpet. I felt so foolish, but being in this room, near him, made the air feel breathable again. I leaned against the side of his bed, my eyes fluttering shut. I almost drifted off right there on the floor.

"Nneka?"

I jumped. Daniel was sitting up, his hair messy, looking at me blearily. "Nneka, what’s wrong?"

"I... I heard a sound. I thought someone broke in. It was just your AC," I fumbled, my face heating up with embarrassment. "I was just... leaving."

Daniel didn't get angry. He didn't laugh. He just sighed, grabbed his pillow, and scooted to the far edge of his massive bed, leaving a wide, empty space.

"If you want, you can sleep here," he said quietly, before turning his back to me and pulling up the sheets.

I stood there, frozen. I looked back at the dark hallway leading to my room—the dark alleyway of my mind. You and the boys are safe with me. His promise echoed in my head. I took one step, then another, until I lowered myself into the warmth of his bed.

The sheets smelled like him—cedar and something uniquely Daniel. It was the first time in my life I felt truly, deeply safe.

"Goodnight, Nneka," he murmured.

"Goodnight, Daniel."

The silence wasn't scary anymore. It was warm. I could hear his rhythmic breathing and feel the heat radiating from his frame. I tucked my chin into the covers and, for the first time in days, I slept. 

No masks. No snow. No blue babies. Just peace until the morning sun hit my face.

                          ——   Chapter 21    ——

Nneka - POV

A quiet, calm routine had settled over us this past week. Daniel goes to work and comes back late, and I spend my days with Tracy, my nurse. But the evenings? Those are mine and Daniel's.

Tonight, he was hunched over his laptop at the foot of the sofa while I sat nearby, laughing at a dumb show and eating popcorn off my belly. I found myself watching him. He’s so... consistent. Predictable. 

And honestly? He is incredibly handsome in that broad-shouldered, masculine way. I had to shake myself out of it—our situation was already complicated enough without adding sexual tension to the mix.

"Sorry, was I too loud?" I asked when he closed his laptop with a heavy sigh.

"No, it’s just this proposal. Loopholes everywhere," he muttered, rubbing his temples.

I stood up, balancing my bump, and brought him a glass of cold water. "You need to hydrate, Daniel." As he took the glass, I noticed his hand was trembling. "Hey, your hands are shaking. Are you okay?"

He sighed deeply. "I’m trying to quit smoking... cold turkey. It’s a lot with the workload."

I sat next to him. "You should ease into it, Daniel. Stopping like that is too hard on your system."

"I can't let you or the boys breathe in that smoke," he said, resting his hand on my belly. "That wouldn't be okay."

"But running yourself into the ground is okay?" I nudged him. "Is this the version of yourself you want your kids to see? Take a ten-minute break. 

Go smoke outside, then come back for dinner."

He looked at me with a strange expression—like nobody had ever dared to tell him what to do before. But he nodded and went out. While he was gone, I headed to the kitchen. He has a chef, but I was bored, so I made lamb cutlets with mint chutney. 

When he came back and tried to help, I just shooed him away to take a hot shower.

We ate in the quiet luxury of his dining room. "This is incredible," he said. "You should be a chef." I wanted to talk about my future, but I decided he had enough on his plate.

Later that night, we were both lying on our ends of the bed. "Thanks," Daniel’s low voice drifted over. "For taking care of me today. Even though I’m the one who’s supposed to be doing that for you."

"Says who?" I asked, looking at the ceiling.

"I just feel... like there’s no off-button on me," he admitted, his voice sounding vulnerable for the first time. "I want to stop, but my mind doesn't know how."

"That’s what happens when you’ve been on your own all your life," I said softly. "It feels like if you stop moving, you’ll drown. You’ve had to grow up too fast, Daniel. You never got the chance to heal."

The silence was heavy. I could tell his jaw was tight. "Sorry if that was too personal," I added.

"No," he whispered.

"I like being here, Daniel," I continued, yawning as my eyes grew heavy. "I like these walls. I like the roof. 

For the first time since my dad left, I feel safe. I feel warm. You remind me of what it feels like to actually belong... to actually matter."

I was too tired to see his reaction. I just closed my eyes and let sleep take me, feeling more grounded than I had in years.

                      ——   Chapter 22    ——

Nneka - POV

"I don’t know, Daniel, this all seems a bit too much." I clicked my teeth, staring at the price tag of a pair of designer boots. $2,500? That’s three months of rent, two months of groceries, and a life-saving surgery in the world I come from.

"Nneka, I told you I’d take care of the bills," Daniel said lightly, leaning against a marble pillar. "Stop reading the tags and just get whatever you want."

I bit my lip, flipping the leather boot over. "I can't. It doesn’t feel right. There are people working day and night just to make this much in a month. I can’t wear someone’s salary on my feet."

He watched me for a long beat. "That someone was me once, Nneka. I started out on construction sites for $18 an hour. I worked my way here. I earned the right to buy these."

"Exactly," I said, poking his chest. "You earned it. Not me."

He took the boots from my hands, his gaze intense. "And are we so different?"

The question hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. What were we? We weren't friends, certainly not lovers. 

We were living in this weird, grey bubble where he provided everything and I just... existed. "It’s just not me, Daniel," I said, putting the boots back. "Is there a mall where regular people shop? This place makes me feel like I’m breathing expensive air I can't afford."

A sales rep, perfectly manicured and smelling like a French garden, rushed over. She ignored me completely—probably because of my oversized hoodie—and went straight to Daniel with a flirtatious smile. "Anything I can get you, Mr. Greyson?"

"No," Daniel said, his voice cold. Her smile vanished instantly.

"You could try being nice," I propped as she walked away.

"If I’m nice, she’ll slip me her number. I know the type."

"Wow... you really know women," I teased, then added without thinking, "And yet, you married Funke."

The silence that followed was deafening. My heart hammered against my ribs. "I-I’m so sorry, Daniel. That was out of line."

But he just looked amused. "It’s alright. I married Funke because I didn't want love, and neither did she. It seemed like a good deal at the time."

"Why didn't you want love?" I asked, then immediately worried I was crossing into 'girlfriend territory.'

"My father loved my mother very much," he said, his eyes fixed on a mannequin. "And it didn't do him any good." I remembered Andrew telling me their father had taken his own life because of their mother. 

My heart ached for the little boy he used to be. I reached out and squeezed his bicep gently.

"I’m sorry, Daniel. That sucks for you."

"Yeah," he trailed off. "But lately, I’ve been thinking... what if I’m wrong? Maybe there is good love out there and I’m just too busy hating to notice." He took a step closer, and my breath hitched. Was he talking about us?

Thankfully, a twin kicked my rib, breaking the spell. I winced, and Daniel went into full panic mode. "Are you okay? Does it hurt?"

"I'm fine! Just a kick," I laughed. "But seriously, can we go to a normal mall? I want things that feel like me." He studied me for a second before nodding. "Whatever makes you happy, Nneka."

The drive back was full of laughter and shopping bags from stores I actually recognized. 

For a moment, I felt like a normal woman. But then, I saw a man at a bus stop drinking from a Styrofoam cup. Not long ago, I was fishing those same cups out of bins.

The realization hit me like cold water. This bubble—this mansion, the food, the safety—it has an expiration date. In two months, the babies will be born, and then what? Will I be back on the street? My hands tightened around my bump. I had to make a plan.

The next day, I started helping Maria, the housekeeper. I tucked sheets, folded laundry, and scrubbed counters.

"Nneka, you shouldn't be on your feet so much," my nurse, Tracy, warned.

"I'm used to it, Tracy," I said, ignoring the pull in my back muscles.

At dinner, Daniel was frowning. "Tracy told me you’ve been helping Maria with the cleaning. Why? You’re supposed to be resting."

I swallowed hard. "Daniel, I’m going to need to find work after the babies are born. And I want to be around them." I looked at him, my heart in my throat. "If you hire me as your permanent cleaning lady, I can work and still be near my boys."

Daniel’s face transformed. He put his fork down, his expression unreadable, but I could tell he wasn't happy. 

He stared at his plate, thinking hard, and for a second, I realized just how much I had insulted his pride. But I wasn't a billionaire; I was a survivor. And survivors always look for the next job.

To BE CONTINUED…