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Chapter 42: The Name on the Envelope
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2026-01-24 16:26:41
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The Billionaire's Secret Baby Chapter 47: The Rain That Breaks the Silence
The rain returned on the third night after the funeral, heavier than before, like the sky itself was grieving. Elena sat alone in the living room, the lights off, only the blue glow from the television lighting her face. She hadn’t turned the sound on. She didn’t need to hear anything. She just needed to see something move.Theo had left that morning. He hugged her too long at the door, whispered “Call me if anything feels wrong,” and drove back to Lagos with his wife and the twins. Amara had flown out the day before, promising to bring her daughters for the weekend. Kai had called from New York at noon, voice thick, saying he’d be home next month. Nia had stayed until yesterday evening, then hugged her mother and said, “I’m only two hours away. I’ll come whenever you need me.”Now the house was empty.Elena didn’t cry.She hadn’t cried since the hospital. Not at the funeral. Not when they lowered the coffin. Not when the grandchildren asked why Grandpa wasn’t waking up. She had smile
The Billionaire's Secret Baby Chapter 46: The Shadow That Would Not Die
The rain came back on the first anniversary of Alexander’s death, not gently this time, but with a low, angry growl that rolled in from the Atlantic and refused to leave. It hammered the Lekki compound roof like fists, rattled the windows, flooded the garden paths into muddy streams. Elena woke to it at 3:47 a.m., heart already pounding before her eyes opened. She lay still for a long moment, listening to the storm tear at the palms outside, feeling the old fear crawl up her spine—the fear she thought she had buried with him.She reached for the bedside lamp. The light came on weak and yellow. Alexander’s side of the bed was cold, the pillow untouched. She sat up slowly, eighty-one years of living pressing against her bones. Her hand found the small wooden box on the nightstand—the one he had kept locked for decades. She opened it without thinking, the way she had opened it every year on this date since he left.Inside, the letters were still there. The USB drive (copies made long ago
The Billionaire's Secret Baby Chapter 45: The Rain That Waits
The rain had become a language Elena spoke fluently by her eighty-third year. She could tell the difference between the sharp, angry downpour that came with arguments and the soft, forgiving mist that followed forgiveness. Tonight it was the latter—gentle, almost hesitant, as if the sky itself was unsure whether to speak or stay silent. She sat on the veranda in the rocking chair, the same one that had rocked her through every storm and sunrise since the old penthouse days. The blanket across her lap was threadbare now, but it still smelled faintly of jasmine and Alexander’s aftershave, even though he had been gone seven years.The compound was quiet. The children and grandchildren had left after the weekend celebration of her birthday. Theo had flown back to Lagos with promises to return next month. Amara had hugged her tightly and whispered, “I’ll bring the girls for Christmas.” Kai had played one last song on the veranda—something new, something sad and hopeful—and kissed her foreh
The Billionaire's Secret Baby Chapter 44: The Rain That Never Forgets
The rain returned on the first anniversary of Alexander’s death, not as a storm but as a quiet, persistent visitor. It tapped against the veranda roof of the Lekki compound like someone too polite to knock loudly, soft enough to be background music, steady enough to remind Elena of every rainy day that had shaped her life. She sat in the rocking chair—the one that had traveled from the old penthouse balcony—wrapped in the same wool blanket she had used on the night he slipped away. At eighty-two, the chair still fit her perfectly, as if it had grown old with her.The house was full again. Theo and his wife had arrived the day before with their grown children and the twins’ toddlers. Amara had flown in from London with her daughters. Kai had come from New York, guitar case in hand. Nia had brought her family from Abuja, including the newest great-grandchild, a six-month-old girl named after Elena. The courtyard had echoed with laughter, the smell of jollof rice and pepper soup, the cla
The Billionaire's Secret Baby Chapter 43: The Envelope Marked “Do Not Open”
The rain had returned by the time Elena opened the second envelope. It wasn’t the violent downpour of her youth, nor the steady drumming that had accompanied so many turning points in her life. This was a soft, almost apologetic rain—drops tapping lightly against the veranda roof like someone too polite to knock loudly. She sat in the rocking chair, the same one that had rocked her through pregnancies, grief, joy, and now this. The envelope in her lap was heavier than it looked. Cream paper, slightly yellowed, sealed with old wax that had cracked in places but still held. Alexander’s handwriting on the front:For Elena – Open when the rain remembers.She had found it that morning, tucked inside the back cover of the final bound volume of her manuscript—the one she had finished writing after his death. She hadn’t noticed it before. Or perhaps she hadn’t wanted to. The book had been her way of keeping him close; maybe she had saved this letter for when she needed him most.Her fingers s
The Billionaire's Secret Baby Chapter 42: The Name on the Envelope
The rain had started again by the time Elena opened the second envelope. It wasn’t the violent downpour of her youth, nor the steady drumming that had accompanied so many turning points in her life. This was a soft, almost apologetic rain—drops tapping lightly against the veranda roof like someone too polite to knock loudly. She sat in the rocking chair, the same one that had rocked her through pregnancies, grief, joy, and now this. The envelope in her lap was heavier than it looked. Cream paper, slightly yellowed, sealed with old wax that had cracked in places but still held. Alexander’s handwriting on the front:For Elena – Open when the rain remembers.She had found it that morning, tucked inside the back cover of the final bound volume of her manuscript—the one she had finished writing after his death. She hadn’t noticed it before. Or perhaps she hadn’t wanted to. The book had been her way of keeping him close; maybe she had saved this letter for when she needed him most.Her fing
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