Lahat ng Kabanata ng The Billionaire's Secret Baby: Kabanata 41 - Kabanata 47

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

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 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