Once upon a time in the heart of Victoria Island, there lived a woman named Amora Oronquo. She was the kind of woman people stopped to stare at when she walked into a room. Not just because she was beautiful, but because she carried herself like a queen. Tall, light-skinned, with sharp cheekbones and eyes that never smiled.
Amora always wore designer clothes and never repeated an outfit twice. She lived in a white mansion surrounded by guards, flowers, and a tall black gate that never opened for strangers. People said she was heartless. They said she had no family, no friends, no one she trusted, just money. And they were right.
Amora was alone. Her husband had died 3 years ago, and they never had children. Since then, she worked, traveled, and came home to silence. That was her life. but that life was about to change. All because of one rainy afternoon. The sky had turned dark that Thursday. Thick gray clouds covered the sun.
Rain started to fall slowly at first, then heavier and louder. The sound of thunder rumbled far away like an angry drum. Amora sat in the back seat of her black Range Rover. Her driver, Caru, was moving slowly through traffic. He glanced at the rear view mirror.
Madam, should I take the ley shortcut? This traffic might hold us till night. Amora didn’t answer at first. She was staring at her phone. A message had just come in from the board. Meeting rescheduled to 5:00 p.m. Please confirm. She sighed and put the phone down. Go through Ozamba. I don’t care if it takes 2 hours. Yes, ma. Caru said and turned the steering wheel.
Outside, the rain splashed hard against the windshield. On the sidewalks, people were running, trying to find shade. Some had umbrellas. Most didn’t. Cars honked. Street vendors shouted. Everyone looked like they were trying to escape something. Then the car stopped. A red traffic light ahead blinked. The wipers moved back and forth. Caru was about to comment on the jam when Amora raised her hand slightly.
“What’s that?” she said, squinting through the window. Carl looked too. What’s what, Mau? There, near that pole. That boy. Carl turned and saw a skinny boy, maybe 12 years old, barefoot and shaking, holding two small babies, one in each arm. The babies were wrapped in what looked like nylon bags. Their clothes were soaked.
Their cries were faint but sharp, even through the glass. The boy was standing in the middle of the road divider, his head bent as rain poured down on all three of them. Caru frowned. They’re always doing this begging trick. Ma, some of them even rent babies. But Amora wasn’t listening. Her eyes were fixed on the baby’s faces. Something about them made her chest feel tight.
She leaned forward as if getting a closer look would explain what her brain couldn’t. She whispered, “Those eyes.” The left twin lifted her face briefly. Her eyes were hazel, the same rare light brown color as her late husband’s. It couldn’t be, Amora thought. She blinked. Maybe it was the rain or the street lights or her mind playing games.
But then the second baby looked up and the same eyes stared back. Her heart jumped. Stop the car, Amorus said quickly. Caru looked confused. Mow. I said, “Stop the car now.” The driver hit the brake and parked by the curb. Amora opened the door and stepped into the rain, ignoring the water that hit her face and soaked her designer dress.
Her heels sank into the muddy ground, but she didn’t care. Carl quickly followed her with an umbrella. “Madam, you’ll catch cold, please.” But Amora was already walking fast straight toward the boy. When she reached him, the boy looked up, his face full of fear and surprise. He didn’t speak. “Who are you?” Amora asked, her voice firm.
He looked down at the babies again, then back at her. “I’m I’m Toby.” She crouched slightly, eyes on the twins. “They are yours.” “Yes,” he said, tightening his grip. “They are mine.” She raised her eyebrows. your sisters. He hesitated. No, my daughters. Amora stepped back slightly. You’re what? He nodded slowly. I’m their father.
Amora stared at him, unsure whether to be angry, shocked, or confused. You’re 12. I’m 13, he said quickly. She shook her head. And where is their mother? He looked away. She died when they were born. The rain kept pouring. The babies shivered. One of them began to cry again, weak and horsearo. Amora’s lips parted, but she didn’t know what else to say.
The boy was clearly lying about something, or maybe everything, but the way he cradled the twins, it didn’t feel like a trick. He didn’t ask for money. He didn’t stretch his hand. He didn’t even move. Amora took a deep breath and looked back at her car. The wipers were still moving. Caru was still holding the umbrella behind her. She turned to him. Bring them in. Ma.
I said, “Carry them into the car.” Caru stood frozen. Amora snapped. You want me to repeat myself in Igbo. No, Ma. Caru stepped forward quickly. Toby looked scared and stepped back. Please don’t take them. Amora raised her hand gently. We’re not taking them from you. You’re coming with us. I don’t want to go to police.
No police, she said, eyes soft. I promise. Toby hesitated. Then slowly, carefully, he followed her to the car. Inside the Range Rover, the heat was turned on. The twins were wrapped in a Morris scarf and one of her shaws. They stopped crying. Toby sat stiffly, water dripping from his hair, eyes darting around like a trapped animal. Caru drove slowly.
Amora didn’t speak much. She just stared at the babies, their hazel eyes closed now, tiny chests rising and falling. She didn’t know what this meant yet. But she knew one thing for sure. This was not a mistake. Something had brought her to them, and she was going to find out why. The car was quiet.
Only the sound of the rain hitting the roof and the gentle hum of the air conditioner filled the space. Amora sat stiffly, her eyes glued to the two babies lying on her lap, wrapped tightly in her soft cashmre scarf. They were asleep now. Their small faces were peaceful, but their skin was cold. She could still feel how weak their bodies were when she carried them into the car.
Toby sat at the edge of the back seat, his hands folded, wet clothes clinging to his thin body. His eyes kept bouncing around the car, from the expensive leather seats to the glowing dashboard lights. He looked nervous, like a child who had entered a palace he had no right to be in. Amora glanced at him, but she said nothing. She didn’t know what to say.
Her heart felt heavy, but her mind was moving fast, too fast. Questions kept piling up in her head, one after another. Who was this boy? Where was he from? How did he end up with twin babies in the rain? And most of all, why did they have her husband’s eyes? The car turned into her estate.
The long curving driveway led to a giant white mansion surrounded by tall palm trees and a wide fence. The gate opened slowly as the security guard recognized the car. Toby’s mouth dropped slightly. He stared at the big house like it was a movie. “You live here?” he finally asked, his voice quiet. Amora didn’t answer. She was still staring out the window.
When the car stopped at the entrance, two uniformed workers ran out with umbrellas. One of them opened Amora’s door. Another reached to carry the babies, but she pulled back quickly. “Don’t touch them,” she said. The worker stepped aside, confused. Amora stepped out carefully, holding the babies to her chest. Her heels clicked against the wet tiles. Toby stepped out slowly, too.
He wiped his feet on the mat like he didn’t want to stain anything. Caru stood by the door, whispering something to one of the guards. The look on his face showed confusion and worry. Inside the house, the lights were warm. The smell of lemons polish filled the air. A giant chandelier hung above the marble floor and soft music was playing from hidden speakers. Toby stopped at the door. He looked down at his muddy feet.
Amora turned around. What is it? He looked up. I’m dirty. She stared at him for a second. Then she walked back and opened a nearby cabinet. She brought out a towel. Step in. He obeyed. She handed him the towel. Wipe your feet. He bent down quickly and did as she said. Then she called out, “Noy.
” A woman in a green housekeeper uniform rushed in. “Yes, madam. Get a warm bowl of water and tell Dr. Martins to come immediately. Goi nodded and ran off. Toby watched everything quietly. His eyes scanned the ceiling, the painting on the wall, the gold trimmings on the staircase. He had never seen anything like this before.
Amore walked to the living room and gently placed the babies on a soft white couch. She took off her scarf and used it to dry their faces again. One of them stirred and let out a small cry. Toby ran over. “Is she okay?” he asked. Amora looked at him. “You know which one is which?” He nodded. “That’s Chidma. The other one is Chisum.” She blinked slowly.
“Chidenma and Chisum,” she repeated as if testing how the names sounded in her mouth. “You named them?” “Yes,” he said, rubbing his hands nervously. Amora stared at the babies again. She didn’t know why she brought them here. It had happened so fast. One moment she was heading to a meeting. The next she was cradling twin babies that didn’t belong to her.
Or maybe somehow they did. Her heart didn’t want to believe it. But her eyes couldn’t forget what they saw. Those hazel eyes. Those rare golden brown eyes. Her late husband had them. And now so did these babies. A few minutes later, a middle-aged man in a white coat walked in with a black medical bag.
“Good evening, madam,” he said, bowing slightly. “Doctor, thank you for coming quickly,” Amora said, standing. “Please check them. They’ve been under the rain.” The doctor bent over the babies, placed his hand gently on their foreheads, and began his checkup. Toby stood at the corner, watching silently. After 10 minutes, the doctor looked up. They are cold.
Their breathing is shallow, but there’s no chest congestion yet. We’ll need to warm them fast and give them fluids. They’re very weak, probably from hunger. Are they safe? Amora asked. They are stable for now, but they need rest, milk, and close care. Amora nodded. Do what you need to do.
As the doctor set up a small drip bag for each child, Amora turned to Toby. Have they been eating? He nodded slowly. I try to feed them everyday, but it’s hard. What do you give them? Sometimes pap, sometimes soaked bread. If I get money, I buy milk, but most days I don’t get anything. She stared at him. Where do you live? Toby lowered his head.
I sleep at the back of the church under the wooden shed. She blinked slowly. Just you and the babies. Yes. How long? Since Chidimmer and Chisum were born. And before that, we stayed in a woman’s kiosk. But she sent us away after my mommy died. Amora pressed her lips tightly. She didn’t like the way her chest felt. It was tight, like someone had placed a heavy stone there.
Who was your mother? Her name was Adessa. She was a teacher. And your father? Toby hesitated. I I don’t know much. He used to visit sometimes. Not always. Just once in a while. Amora’s breath caught. Her eyes locked on his. What did he look like? Toby looked confused. I don’t know. I was small. I just remember his eyes. What about them? They looked like like theirs.
He pointed to the twins. Amora didn’t answer. She turned her face away quickly. That night, the babies were placed in one of the guest rooms. In a clean, soft cribora staff brought down from storage. The heater was turned on. Warm blankets covered them. Toby was given a warm bath and a new change of clothes. An old outfit from one of the gardener’s boys.
He ate rice and stew like someone who hadn’t seen food in days. Then he fell asleep on a small couch near the baby’s room, arms folded around himself. But Amora didn’t sleep. She stood by the window in her bedroom, watching the rain fall on the garden below. She kept thinking about Dyke, her late husband. They had been married for 10 years, 10 whole years. He told her he loved her.
He told her they were in this together. He told her it didn’t matter that they couldn’t have children, that they would travel, grow old together, be happy. But he lied. If these children were his, if that boy was telling the truth, then Dyke had betrayed her in the worst way, and he was not even alive to explain.
At midnight, Amora opened her drawer. She brought out an old photo album, the one she hadn’t touched in years. She flipped through it slowly. There he was. Daiko Kungquo smiling beside her at their wedding. Strong, tall, handsome, with those same hazel eyes. Eyes she used to fall in love with.
Eyes she now saw in twin baby girls. Her hand trembled as she closed the album. She sat down on the bed, her face buried in her palms. I need to be sure, she whispered. She stood up, picked her phone, and dialed Dr. Martins again. He answered sleepily. Doctor, I need a DNA test. He sat up quickly.
Madam, I want you to run a DNA test on those babies. Compare them with Dyke’s sample in the records. The one we submitted when doing his autopsy. Okay. Yes, I remember. We have it on file. Good. Start tomorrow. All right. Ma, are you are you okay? She didn’t answer that. She ended the call and stood still in the dark. She had just taken the first step.
And deep down she knew the truth was coming. Whether she liked it or not, morning came slowly. The rain had stopped, but the sky was still gray. The house was quiet. A calm kind of quiet that made you feel like something big was coming. Amora sat alone at the long dining table. She wasn’t eating. A plate of untouched toast and eggs sat in front of her.
Her fingers were locked together tightly. Her phone was beside her, face down. She kept staring at the table, but her mind was far away. Last night, she had ordered a DNA test. This morning, she was waiting for the doctor to collect the samples. She hadn’t told anyone, not even the boy. She wanted to be sure first. She needed proof before she even allowed her heart to feel anything.
But the truth was her heart had already started to feel things and that scared her. Footsteps came from the hallway. She looked up. Toby entered the dining room holding a baby in each arm. He was barefoot, still wearing the oversized shirt they gave him last night.
The twins looked much better, clean, dry, and quiet. One of them was sucking her thumb. The other had her head resting on Toby’s shoulder. Good morning, Ma. He said softly. Amora gave a small nod. Sit, she said. He moved slowly and sat at the far end of the table. He didn’t reach for the food. You can eat, she said, her voice low.
There’s more in the kitchen. He looked unsure. “Go ahead,” she added. He placed the babies in a blanket on the floor beside his chair and began eating slowly, not rushing like before. He was learning to behave like he didn’t expect the food to disappear. Amora watched him closely.
He ate with both hands, breaking the bread into small bits before putting it in his mouth. He fed one of the babies a few drops of water from a spoon. He didn’t speak unless spoken to, but he didn’t look scared anymore either. “Are they always this calm?” she asked after a moment. He nodded. “Yes, if I feed them and hold them close, they don’t cry.
” She looked at him carefully. You said their names are Chidma and Chisum, right? Yes. Ma, how old are they? 7 months. She frowned a bit. And you’re 13. Yes. Amora paused. You’re too young to be their father. He didn’t answer. She leaned forward. Toby, tell me the truth. Did your mother have them before she died? He blinked quickly. Yes.
So, you’re their brother, not their father. He looked down. Yes. She folded her arms. Why did you lie? He didn’t speak for a long time. Then he said, “People don’t help if you say you’re just a brother. But when I say I’m their father, they listen.” Amora let out a slow breath. “I don’t like lies,” she said. “I’m sorry.
” There was silence between them. Then Amora stood. Finish eating. Dr. Martins will be here soon. I want him to check the twins again. He nodded but didn’t look up. An hour later, Dr. Martins arrived with a small black case. He greeted Amora politely and walked to the guest room where the babies had been moved.
He wore gloves, took swabs from the baby’s cheeks, and placed them in labeled containers. Amora stood by the door watching. Will it take long? She asked. Two days, he said. Maybe less. Good. Dr. Martins packed his things. You’re doing the right thing, madam. She didn’t reply. She just nodded. As he left, Amora turned to the twins and knelt beside them.
They were lying quietly in the crib, looking up at the ceiling with big, curious eyes. Those same eyes again. Hazel, light brown, almost golden in sunlight, just like dyes. Her fingers touched the edge of the crib. “Who are you?” she whispered. That evening, Amora went to her late husband’s old study. It was the only room she hadn’t touched since he died. She had locked it up and left everything the way he liked it.
Books on the shelf, photos on the desk, his suits in the closet. She stood by the door for a long time before opening it. The room smelled of dust and something else, something old and quiet. She walked to the desk and Saturday, she opened the drawers one by one. Old bank statements, pens, a halffinish cross word puzzle. Then she found a small wooden box.
Inside it were letters, love letters, not from her, from someone else. She opened one. Dyke, thank you for coming last weekend. Toby was so happy. I wish you could stay longer. I understand your life is complicated, but I want you to know I don’t expect anything. Just come when you can. Love, Adessue. Amora’s chest tightened. Another letter.
Toby asks about you every day. I tell him you are busy saving the world. I don’t want him to hate you, so I always say good things. But dyke, sometimes I wish you would just tell her. Tell your wife the truth. Amora closed the box. Her hands were shaking. She stood up and walked out of the room. She didn’t cry.
She just walked straight to her bedroom and locked the door. The next morning, Amora walked downstairs and saw Toby on the rug with the twins. He had tied one of her scarves into a small toy and was shaking it gently in front of them. They laughed. Real happy laughter.
Something about that sound made her stop and stare. She hadn’t heard baby laughter in her house in years or maybe ever. He noticed her and stood up quickly. Good morning, Ma. She nodded. They are better today, he said, smiling a little. No fever. They slept well. She looked at them and nodded again. That’s good. He looked like he wanted to ask something.
Ma, can I ask you a question? She raised an eyebrow. Go ahead. He hesitated. Are you going to send us away? Amora took a deep breath. I don’t know yet. Oh. He looked down but didn’t cry. She added, “Why? You want to stay?” He nodded. She stared at him for a long time. Then she said, “We’ll see.
” The next day, the DNA results arrived. Dr. Martins handed her the envelope in her office. She didn’t open it immediately. She waited until he left. She sat alone, staring at the brown envelope with her name written neatly on the front. Her hands were cold. Finally, she opened it. She read the first line. DNA match confirmed. Probability of paternity 99.98%.
Her eyes froze. Her breath stopped. She dropped the paper and stood up. She paced the room, her hands on her head. “They are his,” she whispered. “They are really his.” The twins were her husband’s daughters. Toby was his son. He had a whole secret family. He had lied for years. She remembered all the hospital tests, the IVF treatments, the tears, the shame.
He always said it wasn’t her fault, that maybe they were both the problem. But all this time, he was the one with children outside. Tears rolled down her face. She didn’t wipe them. Later that night, she sat with Toby on the couch. The babies were asleep in the crib beside them. She didn’t speak at first. Neither did he.
Then she turned to him. Toby. He looked at her. Did you ever meet your father? He nodded slowly. He used to come with presents. He never stayed long. Mommy said he had another life, but he came whenever he could. Did he tell you his name? Yes, he said he was Mr. Dyke. Amora closed her eyes briefly.
Do you have any pictures? Toby reached into a small plastic bag beside him and pulled out a folded photo. Amora took it with shaky fingers. It was old, slightly faded, but there he was, Dyke, standing beside a smiling woman. Toby was younger, standing between them. Her hand dropped. She looked away.
Then she stood up and walked to the window. Outside, the sky was clear. But inside, a storm had started. Amora couldn’t sleep. She lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, her body still, but her mind racing like a car without breaks. The DNA test was real. The babies were Dyke’s children. Toby was Dyke’s son.
Her late husband, the same man who told her they were in everything together, had built a secret life right under her nose. Her chest hurt. But it wasn’t from anger alone. It was from the betrayal, the shame, and the fact that now the truth was staring at her in the face, and she didn’t know what to do with it. By morning, she had made up her mind.
She needed answers, not just papers or guesses. She needed to know who Adessawa was. She wanted to know what kind of woman her husband had hidden for years. She picked up her phone and called the private investigator she had used once during a board dispute. His name was Mr. Folerin. Sharp man, quiet, fast, and expensive. The call didn’t take long.
I want everything about a woman named Adessawa. She lived in Inyugu. She had a son named Toby and died 2 years ago during childbirth. I want to know where she lived, where she worked, who knew her, everything. The man didn’t ask questions. He only said, “You’ll hear from me before the day ends.” Toby spent the morning reading a story book to the twins.
Amore stood at the staircase and watched from above. She didn’t know what she felt anymore. Pity, no, it was deeper than that. Anger, maybe. But it was mixed with guilt. She kept remembering the nights she cried herself to sleep, thinking she was the one who couldn’t carry a child. And Dyke, he had children all along. He looked her in the eyes every day and said they were a team.
She blinked slowly and turned away. Later that afternoon, Folerin called back. Her full name was Adessa Yume. He said she taught at St. Luke’s Primary School in Inyugu. very respected, very quiet. She never married, stayed in a one- room apartment behind the school. According to neighbors, she only had one visitor now and then, a man with a big car.
She never mentioned his name, but some people said he came from Lagos. Amora gripped the phone tightly. Folerin continued, “She died in a small clinic, gave birth to twins.” One of the nurses confirmed it was a complicated delivery. She passed the same night.
What about the boy, Toby? He stayed with a neighbor for a while, then disappeared. The neighbor said he refused to go to the orphanage. Said he’d take care of his sisters himself. Amora closed her eyes. She imagined it now. A boy, barely 12, standing outside in the rain with newborn babies and no one to help him. She whispered, “Did she ever try to contact me?” No record of that, madam.
Did she ever ask Dyke to tell me? There was a short pause. One of the letters she wrote, I got a copy from the neighbor who found it in her box. Said, tell your wife the truth, Dyke. It’s time. That’s all. Amora swallowed hard. Send everything to my email. Yes, ma. She ended the call and sat quietly on the edge of the bed. So, it was true. Adessawa wasn’t just some random woman.
She was a real person, someone who lived a quiet life, raised a child alone, and died bringing two others into the world. And Dyke, he gave her money, visited once in a while, and left her to face the world alone. That evening, Amora found Toby in the garden. He was trying to rock one of the twins to sleep. The other one was chewing on a plastic toy.
Can we talk? Amora said. He stood up quickly. Yes, ma. She sat on the garden bench and tapped the space beside her. He Saturday. I found out more about your mother today. He looked at her with wide eyes. She was a good woman, Amora continued. A teacher, quiet, honest. She didn’t chase after money.
She took care of you with little and she never tried to break my marriage. Toby looked down. She loved you, Amora said. And your sisters, she did her best. He didn’t reply. Then slowly he said, she used to say we had a big family somewhere. But I didn’t understand. She said, “When we grow up, the truth will come to us.
” Amora nodded. It has. He looked at her. You’re my stepmom. She paused, surprised by the word. Yes, I guess I am. He looked at the grass. I’m sorry. For what? For everything. She frowned. You didn’t do anything wrong. He looked up. You’re crying. Amora quickly wiped her cheek. I’m not, she said.
He smiled a little. I just wanted to keep them safe, he said quietly. That’s why I kept moving. I begged for food. I washed cars. I slept in churches. I did everything I could. I know, she said. You’re brave. No, he shook his head. I was scared every night. Amora felt her throat tighten. But I didn’t want them to suffer, he added. She looked at the baby in his arms.
Chisum yawned, her small mouth wide open. Her tiny hand rested on Toby’s shoulder. Amora placed her hand gently on the baby’s back. “You won’t suffer anymore,” she said. Later that night, Amora stood in front of her mirror. She looked at herself. For years, she had lived like a statue, strong, polished, cold.
But now she felt like her chest had cracked open. She remembered how she used to pray for a child. How she blamed herself for being empty. She had even thought of adoption once. But Dyke said, “No child we didn’t make will feel like ours.” Now here she was in a house full of children Dyke made with someone else. And the painful truth, they already felt like hers.
The next morning, Amora went into the twins room and found Toby already awake changing their clothes. You’re always up early, she said. I don’t sleep much. I can tell. She sat on the bed and watched him button Chidimma’s shirt. Toby, she said, “How would you feel if I made sure you never had to sleep under the rain again?” He looked at her, confused.
“You mean stay here forever?” “Not just stay,” she said. “Live here. Go to school. Be safe. Let them grow here too.” He blinked. “You You want us to live here? If you want to.” He didn’t reply. Then suddenly, he burst into tears. He cried like a boy who had been holding it in for years. He dropped on his knees and covered his face.
Amora didn’t move for a few seconds. Then she got up, walked over, and knelt beside him. She pulled him close and let him cry. “You’re not alone anymore,” she whispered. “I promise.” The news didn’t stay quiet for long. In a house like Amora or Kungquo, everything speaks. The guards, the drivers, even the housekeepers. And once the first whisper left the mansion gates, it spread like fire.
By the next morning, her name was being spoken in hushed voices across the high streets of Aoyi and the loud corners of gossip tables in Banana Island. She brought in a street boy. They say the twins are her husband’s children. Did Dyke really cheat on her all those years? The rumors rolled and twisted like a storm, and Amora knew it wouldn’t be long before the people who mattered most would come knocking.
Not out of care, but out of fear. Fear that she was about to change the balance of power in the Oronquo Empire. And she was right. They came on a Sunday afternoon. Three black SUVs rolled into her compound like kings arriving at war. Her head of security called her immediately. Madam, its chief Emma Okonquo with two of his cousins.
She stood from the reading chair in her private lounge and placed her cup of tea on the table. Let them in, she said simply. Downstairs, the front door opened. Chief Emma was Dyke’s elder brother, a bulky man with a sharp voice and a habit of speaking like the whole world owed him something.
He walked in with his chest out, followed by two younger men in Abbadas who wore dark glasses indoors. Amora didn’t stand when they entered the living room. She only crossed her legs and looked at them. “Good afternoon,” she said. Chief Emma didn’t smile. We need to talk. I assumed that’s why you’re here. The youngest of the men hissed slightly. So, it’s true. Amora looked at him.
What exactly is true? Chief Emma didn’t sit. He walked slowly around the room like he owned it. You brought a boy into this house. A boy with two babies. Babies that people are saying belong to Dyke. Amora said nothing. Chief Emma’s eyes narrowed.
Is it true? She reached for a file on the table and slid it toward him. Read for yourself. He picked it up, opened the first page, and read the DNA report. His face didn’t change, but his fingers tightened on the file. Where did you find them? He asked. In the rain, begging for food. He slammed the file shut. And you brought them into this house? Just like that.
They are Dyke’s children. He pointed at her. That doesn’t mean they’re yours. Amora stood. Now, they carry the same blood that runs through his veins. That means they carry part of mine, too. The other man stepped forward. Madam Amora, with all due respect, we understand you’re hurting, but this is a very serious matter.
I know exactly how serious it is, she said, her voice low. Chief Emma dropped into a chair finally. Do you know what people are saying? That you’ve lost your mind. That you want to hand over everything to strangers? They are not strangers, Amora snapped. They are his children. The ones he hid from me. The ones none of you cared to find after his death. The room was quiet.
Then Chief Emma leaned forward. You’re about to destroy everything. The board is already asking questions. The shareholders are restless bringing in children from nowhere. That’s not how things are done in our family. Amora folded her arms. What you mean is you were planning to take everything. He didn’t deny it. You have no children, he said plainly.
No way. That means the family takes over. It’s how things are done. Not anymore, she replied. The youngest cousin raised his voice. So, you want to name the boy as air? A street boy? Toby is not just some street boy, she said firmly. His dyke son, which makes him more of an heir than any of you. The cousin laughed bitterly.
He doesn’t even know how to hold a spoon. He’ll learn. You’re making a mistake. Amora took a step closer. I made one before. I trusted Dyke. I let him lead everything while I played the quiet wife. Not anymore. Chief Emma stood. We’ll fight this in court, in the press, wherever we have to. Amora’s voice dropped.
Go ahead, but you’ll lose because unlike you, I have the truth. He pointed at her one last time. You’ll regret this. She raised her chin. No, you’ll regret underestimating me. After they left, Amora sat back down and took a deep breath. She was shaking slightly, not from fear, from fury, the nerve, the boldness.
The way they walked into her house like she was the one who needed permission. She heard small footsteps and turned. Toby was standing at the hallway entrance. He had heard everything. His face was tight. His hands were clenched. I can go if you want, he said softly. Amora stood up slowly. Go away. He shrugged. Anywhere. I don’t want to cause trouble. She walked to him and placed both hands on his shoulders.
You’re not going anywhere, but they’re angry. They’ve always been angry. They were angry when I married Dyke. They were angry when I took over the company. Now they’re angry because you exist. He looked into her eyes. I’m not trying to take anything from them. I know. I just want them.
He looked down the hallway where the twins were playing in their crib to have a chance. Amora nodded, “And they will.” That evening, the house was tense. Even the staff were quiet, but Amora didn’t care. She called her lawyer. “Draw up the paperwork,” she said. “For what?” “I want guardianship over the children. And I want Toby enrolled in the best school by next week.
Uniforms, books, everything. Are you sure? My this will trigger war. I’m not starting war, she said. I’m finishing it. The next day, the press came knocking. A headline had already gone out. Widow of late Daikor Konquo takes in street children. Claims they are his secret heirs. Photographers camped near the gate.
Reporters shouted questions when Amora’s car drove out. Her board members started calling. One of them, Mr. Raayi finally said what others were thinking. Madam, this will affect the company. How investors are nervous? The media won’t let it go. Maybe, maybe it’s best you take a break. A break from my own company.
Just for a while, until this storm passes. Amora smiled and ended the call. By the following week, she held a press conference. She walked into the small hall wearing a plain black gown. No earrings, no makeup, just truth. She sat at the table in front of flashing cameras and began. My name is Amora Oronquo.
I am the widow of the late Chief Dyke or Kungquo, a man I loved deeply and who I recently discovered had a second family outside our marriage. Murmurss rose in the crowd. She raised her hand for silence. I discovered this not through rumors, but through fact. I found his son begging in the rain, holding his twin sisters.
I ran a DNA test. The results were clear. She held up the file. This is real. The room fell quiet again. I know this shocks you. It shocked me, too, but truth doesn’t care about feelings. It just is. She paused. Now, some people believe I should hide them. Erase them. Pretend they don’t exist, but I won’t.
Her voice became firmer. Those children carry my husband’s blood. Whether I like it or not, and unlike others, they never asked to be born in secret. They never lied. They simply existed. A reporter raised a hand. “Madam, are you adopting them?” “I’m doing more,” she said. “I’m raising them.
I’m giving them my name and I will protect them from family, from courts, and from people like you who think being born in the street makes you less human. Another reporter asked, “What about the company?” She smiled. I built half of it. I will not be pushed aside. The children are not here for your money. They are here because they deserve to live.
A third reporter asked, “What if Chief Emma fights you? Then he’ll learn what it feels like to lose. After the press conference, Toby waited for her at home. He had watched it on TV. When she entered the house, he ran to her and hugged her. “You said all that?” he asked. She nodded. He looked up at her with wet eyes. “Thank you.” Amora didn’t reply. She just held him tighter.
3 days after the press conference, everything in Amora’s world changed. Her phone didn’t stop ringing. Some calls were from investors pretending to be concerned. Others were from board members warning her that she was ruining her legacy. One caller shouted at her. Another begged her. One even tried to bribe her to handle the matter privately. Amora listened to them all, but she didn’t change her decision.
She had made her choice. Toby and the twins were her family now. One morning, she stood in the twins room watching them sleep. Their chubby hands rested on their tiny bellies. Their breathing was slow and sweet. She smiled gently. Toby entered quietly, holding his school bag. He was dressed in his new school uniform, white shirt tucked neatly into navy blue trousers, socks pulled high, and shiny black shoes on his feet. “You look sharp,” Amora said, smiling.
He blushed a little. Thank you, Ma. You ready? He nodded. Yes. She bent and adjusted his collar. You’ll do well. Toby looked down. What if the other students laugh at me? She paused. Then you hold your head high. You’ve faced things no other boy your age has. You’ve taken care of babies. You’ve begged in the rain. You’ve survived. He looked up at her slowly.
So, I’m not just some boy. Amora’s voice became firm. You are not just anything. You are strong. You are smart. And you belong. He smiled, eyes glistening. She reached into her purse and handed him a small notebook. What’s this? He asked. Your dreams. Write them in there. One day you’ll read it again and see how far you’ve come.
He hugged her tightly. Thank you, Auntie Amora. She smiled and whispered into his ear. You can call me mom if you want to. He pulled back, eyes wide. Really? She nodded. He whispered, “Okay, mom.” She hugged him again. Later that day, Amora sat in her office reviewing company documents.
Her lawyer, Barrista Ayatund, entered with papers in hand. “Everything’s ready,” he said. You just need to sign. Amora took the documents and looked through them carefully. The first one gave her full legal guardianship over Toby, Chisum, and Chidimma. The second updated her will. She was officially naming the children as her legal beneficiaries.
She picked up her pen and paused. “Once I do this,” she said slowly. “There’s no turning back.” The lawyer nodded. “Yes, ma.” Amora signed. One stroke at a time, she sealed her decision. Meanwhile, trouble was growing outside her gates. Chief Emma had not taken her press conference lightly.
He had gone to court, claiming Amora was unfit to care for children because of emotional instability and griefdriven behavior. He said she was making irrational choices that could damage the family name. He also filed a case to freeze the family estate and remove her from the board. Her lawyer informed her immediately. Ma, they’re going full force. Amora didn’t flinch.
Then so will we. That night, she walked into the baby’s room and found the nurse giving Chidimma her bath. Toby was nearby folding tiny clothes and humming a song. He looked up when he saw her. “You’re back.” She nodded and walked over. “I signed the papers today.” His face turned curious.
“What papers? You’re mine now, she said softly. All of you. He froze. You mean you adopted us? She smiled. Yes. He ran into her arms. This time he didn’t cry. He just held on tightly. “You’re not going back to the street,” she whispered. “Ever again.” The next morning, the real storm began.
Amora’s name was all over the news again. Court battle over billions. Dyke’s widow and secret children caught in legal fire. Some called her foolish, some called her brave. Many didn’t know what to think. The courtroom was packed on the first day of hearing. Amora entered in a dark blue suit, heels clicking on the floor. Her head was held high.
Behind her was Barrista Ayatund, calm and sharp. Across the room sat Chief Emma and his lawyers. The judge entered. The courtroom rose. When it was time to speak, Chief Emma’s lawyer stood. My lord, we are here to protect the legacy of the late Chief Daikono. The woman before you is grieving. Yes, but she is also unstable.
She has taken in unknown children based on rumors and is trying to hand over everything our client built to strangers. He turned to the judge. We ask that her control over the estate be suspended and that the children be removed from her custody until we can confirm their identity. The judge nodded slowly and turned to Amora’s side. Response.
Barrista Ayatan stood and held up the DNA report. My lord, there is no rumor here. There is fact, scientific proof that these children are indeed the biological offspring of the late Chief Dyke. That alone gives them a rightful place in this family. He placed the papers on the table. He continued, “But more than blood, we must ask, what is family? Is it just name or is it love, sacrifice, and truth? Because if it is the latter, then Madame Aamora is already their mother in every way that counts.” The room was quiet.
The judge looked from one side to the other. He leaned forward. I will review the documents and give my ruling in 3 days. Court dismissed. Outside, the media flooded her. Madame Aamora, are the children really dyes? Why are you doing this? Is this about revenge? She ignored them and entered her car.
Her face was calm, but inside her heart was beating fast. She had shown the world the truth. Now she just had to wait and see if the world cared about truth at all. Back at the mansion, Toby met her at the door. How did it go? He asked. She forced a smile. Well know soon, he looked worried. If they take us away. They won’t, she said firmly.
But if they do, she placed her hands on his shoulders. Toby, look at me. He looked up. No one is taking you. You hear me? He nodded, but she saw the fear in his eyes, and that broke her more than any courtroom ever could. 3 days later, the ruling came in. The judge’s voice was clear as he read.
After reviewing the submitted evidence, including DNA results, statements of care, and witness reports, the court sees no reason to remove Madame Amora or Kungquo from her legal guardianship over the minors in question. Her actions, while untraditional, have been found to be in the best interest of the children. Amora’s breath court, the judge continued.
Furthermore, the estate remains under her control, and the board shall respect the late chief’s family rights as they now stand. Case closed. There was silence. Then Emma’s lawyer stood angrily. We will appeal. The judge replied, “You are free to try, but the court has spoken.” Amora stood quietly. She turned to Emma. “Now what?” He scowlled.
“You think this is over?” She smiled. No, but it’s my turn to win. Outside the courtroom, reporters followed her again. She stopped this time. I didn’t fight for power, she said. I fought for three children who were forgotten. One of them saved their lives. Now I will spend the rest of mine saving his. She walked past the cameras.
That night, she came home and found Toby waiting. His face told her everything. You heard? He nodded. “You won.” She sat beside him. “No,” she said. “We won.” The court battle was over, but the damage it left behind was still in the air. The house felt different now. It was quieter, not because there was silence, but because everyone was still trying to breathe again.
Amora sat alone in her room the next morning, sipping tea. The sunlight slipped through the curtains. It should have been a beautiful day. She had won. She had protected her late husband’s children. She had kept Toby and the twins safe. But her heart still felt heavy. She had fought so many people, her late husband’s family, the board, the court. But there was still one person she hadn’t truly faced yet, herself.
She stood from her bed and walked to the mirror. Her eyes were tired. Her face looked older. She remembered the Amora from years ago. The woman who laughed easily. The one who wore soft pink lip gloss and danced barefoot in her living room with Dyke after dinner. The one who believed in forever. That Amora was gone. And maybe she needed to say goodbye to her now for real.
Downstairs, Toby was sitting on the floor of the living room playing with the twins. He had arranged some blocks into the shape of a small house. Chidimemer knocked the blocks down and laughed. Chisum clapped her tiny hands. Amora watched from the stairs without saying a word. Toby had changed. His hair was neater.
His eyes were brighter. He had grown taller, too. But it wasn’t just on the outside. He now walked like someone who belonged, not someone expecting to be kicked out at any minute. He looked up and saw her watching. He smiled and waved. She came down and joined them on the floor. The three of them surrounded her immediately. Chisum crawled into her lap. Chidimma touched her earrings.
Toby reached for her hand. Can I ask you something? He said. Anything. Did you love him? My my dad. She paused. Yes, she said. He waited. Did he love you? I think he did in his own way, but he also hurt me. Toby lowered his eyes. I’m sorry. You don’t need to be, but I feel like I don’t know.
like it’s all my fault. She cuppuffed his chin and lifted his face gently. No, Toby, you didn’t ask to be born. You didn’t ask to be hidden. That was Dyke’s choice, not yours. I just wish I met you earlier, he whispered. She swallowed hard. Me, too. Later that evening, Toby helped one of the housekeepers in the garden.
He trimmed the small flowers and pulled out dry leaves while humming softly. Amora stood on the balcony watching again. She noticed something. Even though he was smiling and helping, there was still something on his mind. Something he was carrying around quietly. So after dinner, she called him into her office. Toby, she said, I want to talk.
He sat down across from her, hugging a throw pillow like he always did when he was nervous. Tell me what’s really going on in your heart. He looked up confused. What do you mean? You’ve been quiet since the court ruling. Happy but quiet. He shrugged. I just I don’t know how to be here sometimes. She listened carefully. Everyone is kind to me, but I feel like I don’t know the rules.
What rules? He looked down like how to sit, how to eat, how to talk in front of rich people, how to use a napkin, how not to say yes ma too much. Amora smiled a little. You don’t need to change who you are, but I don’t want to embarrass you. You haven’t. He looked up, eyes honest.
Even at school, they ask where I came from. When I say I used to live on the street, they laugh. She stood and walked over to him. She sat beside him and held his hand. Let them laugh. He frowned. But it hurts. “I know,” she said. “But every great story starts in a small place. Let them laugh now. One day they’ll read about you in books.
” He blinked. “Really?” “Yes, and they’ll wish they were part of your story.” The next week, Amora invited a public speaking coach to work with Toby every Saturday. She also hired a teacher to guide him after school. But she did something else, too. She started teaching him herself. Not just school work, but how to sit in board meetings, how to speak to adults, how to understand money, how to ask questions without fear.
One evening, while she was explaining how company shares worked, he paused and looked at her. Do you really believe I can do this? She looked at him. I wouldn’t be wasting my time if I didn’t. He nodded slowly. Okay, then I’ll try. But things weren’t always smooth. Some days the babies got sick. Some nights Toby woke up from bad dreams. Other times, the pressure of trying to be good enough made him cry. Once he screamed at the nanny and ran into his room.
Amora found him on the floor. head in his hands. “I’m tired,” he whispered. “What if I fail you?” She sat beside him. “Then we start again.” He shook his head. “What if I disappoint you?” She turned to him gently. “You can’t.” He looked confused. “Why not?” “Because you’re not here to be perfect. You’re here to be loved.” Weeks passed.
Toby grew stronger. The twins started crawling faster. The mansion that once echoed with silence now danced with noise. Soft giggles, tiny feet, music from the kitchen, and Toby’s voice asking endless questions. One day, while Amora was leaving the house for a business meeting, the twins ran to the door and held her legs.
She knelt and kissed them both. Toby rushed forward and handed her a packed lunch. “We made it for you,” he said proudly. Amora looked at the wrap. It was bread shaped badly and crushed at the sides. She held it like gold. I’ll eat it all, she said. He grinned. But outside the walls of their home, trouble was still near. The company was now divided.
Some board members still doubted her judgment. A few were angry that she had rewritten her will and named outsiders as beneficiaries. At one meeting, one of the members spoke out. Madam Amora, with all due respect, we think this new direction is too emotional. She replied calmly, “I made decisions based on truth, not emotion.
” “But the boy is smarter than most of you in this room,” she cut in. The room went quiet. She stood and placed a file on the table. “This is a proposal from Toby. He wrote it after visiting the company website and finding outdated data. If a 13-year-old can find your mistakes, maybe you’re the emotional ones.
Back at home, Toby practiced piano in the evenings. Amora hired a soft-spoken music teacher. Toby picked it up fast. Amora watched one night as his fingers moved slowly across the keys. “You’re gifted,” she said. He smiled, nervous. “I’m just trying.” “No, you’re rising.” But one night, something unexpected happened. Around 2:00 a.m., Amora woke up with a bad feeling.
She rushed to the twins room and found Chisum burning with fever. The nanny was panicking. Amora didn’t waste time. She bundled the twins into the car and called Toby. Get in. We’re going to the hospital. Toby didn’t argue. They reached the hospital in 20 minutes. The doctor said it was a viral infection caught from a toy the twins were sharing.
Chisum was placed on a drip. Toby sat beside her bed holding her hand. He didn’t sleep. He didn’t eat. Hours passed. Then finally the fever dropped. The doctor smiled. She’s stable now. Amora breathed out and sat back. She looked at Toby who hadn’t moved. You’ve done more for her than most adults would. Toby looked up. I love her. I know. He looked at Amora. I love you, too.
She didn’t speak, but she reached out and pulled him into a hug. And for the first time in a long time, she cried. Not from pain, but from healing. The house felt full now. Not just full of people, but full of life. Each morning began with the sound of tiny footsteps running across the hallway. The twins had started walking. They chased each other around the house, bumping into chairs and laughing loudly. Toby had grown taller.
His shoulders were broader. His voice was deeper. And more than anything, his eyes had changed. There was no fear in them anymore. No shame, no confusion, only confidence. Amora stood at the edge of the living room one evening, holding a warm cup of tea in her hands. She watched as Toby sat with Chisum and Chidimma, helping them arrange plastic plates on the floor like it was a restaurant. He was teaching them how to say please and thank you.
Chisum, say thank you for the food. The little girl looked up and said something close to it, then laughed and clapped. Toby laughed with her. Close enough. Amora smiled. She had never imagined this would be her life, that the woman once known as cold, proud, and unreachable would now be sharing her home with three children who changed everything. And she was glad they did.
A week later, Amora got a call from her lawyer. Madam, the foundation papers are ready. She sat up straighter. Good. Schedule the launch. Yes, ma. Shall I inform the press? Yes. and prepare the name plates. Which name are we using? Amora didn’t hesitate. Adessa Foundation in memory of their mother. There was a pause on the line.
That’s very kind of you, Ma. It’s the right thing to do, she said softly. The day of the launch came quickly. It was held in a clean open hall with white curtains and soft music. The guests were carefully selected. No fake well-wishes, no gossip hungry reporters, just real people, doctors, school teachers, social workers, and mothers who understood what it meant to raise a child without support. Amora stood before the microphone in a simple green dress.
Toby stood beside her, dressed in a black suit and tie, holding a framed photo of Adessawa. The twins sat with their nanny in the front row, wearing matching dresses with white ribbons in their hair. Amora began. Today is not about money or image or power. It’s about life. It’s about love.
It’s about second chances. The room was quiet. She continued, “This foundation is named after a woman I never got to meet, but who gave me the greatest gift of my life, her children.” Her voice shook slightly, but she kept speaking. She raised Toby with grace, strength, and silence. And when she left this world, she left behind two daughters who carried the same light.
She paused, looking at Toby. He looked back, eyes steady. Amora faced the crowd again. I didn’t choose this journey, but it found me, and I embraced it. Today, I choose to help others who feel forgotten, who think no one sees them. This is for them. The room clapped, but Toby’s eyes were on her alone. He stepped forward slowly and whispered, “Can I say something?” Amora blinked.
“Are you sure?” He nodded. She stepped aside. He held the microphone tightly. His hands trembled a little, but his voice didn’t. “My name is Toby,” he said. “I used to beg on the street. I carried my baby sisters through rain, through dust, through hunger. I used to think life would never get better.” A few people leaned forward. He continued.
Then I met a woman. She didn’t ask questions. She didn’t judge. She just stopped her car and helped. He turned to look at Amora. I didn’t know who she was. I didn’t even think she would remember me the next day, but she did more than remember. She stayed. She cared. She fought for me. He looked at the crowd again. Now I don’t just have a roof over my head. I have a name. I have a future.
And I have a mother. His voice broke slightly. He smiled through tears. She didn’t give birth to me, but she gave me life. The entire room stood up. Amora wiped her face, eyes full of tears. She walked over and hugged him tightly. The cameras flashed, but neither of them noticed.
That night, back at the mansion, the twins fell asleep early. Toby changed into his pajamas and stepped out to the backyard where Amorus sat under the stars. He walked up beside her and sat quietly. The night breeze was cool. The sky was full of stars. “Thank you for letting me speak,” he said. “You spoke from your heart,” she replied. He looked at her.
“Do you ever miss him?” “She didn’t need to ask who.” She nodded. “Yes, I miss who I thought he was.” Toby looked down. I think he would have been proud of you. Amora smiled. Maybe, but I don’t live for his approval anymore. There was a silence. Then he asked, “Do you think he ever truly loved you?” She was quiet for a long time.
Then she said, “I think he loved what I gave him, but not enough to give everything in return.” Toby nodded slowly. “I’m sorry he hurt you.” Amora turned to him, but he also gave me you. So maybe the pain led to something beautiful. He smiled. Then he asked a question he had never asked before.
Why did you stop that day? What day? The day you saw me in the rain. You didn’t know me. You didn’t know who we were, but you stopped. She thought back to that moment. the traffic, the crying babies, the tiny boy shielding them with his body, and those hazel eyes. I don’t know, she said softly. Something about you pulled me. I was scared, he whispered.
I was too, she said. But I couldn’t drive away. He looked at her again. Thank you for not driving away. She held his hand. I thank God every day that I didn’t. Weeks passed. Toby returned to school stronger than ever. His teachers noticed how focused he was. His English had improved. His handwriting was neater. His answers were bold. He didn’t hide his voice anymore.
One day, he was chosen to lead the class during a debate. He stood in front of the classroom and spoke like he had been trained for years. After the debate, his teacher called Amora. I don’t know how you did it, the woman said. But this boy is different. He’s going places. Amora smiled. He was always meant for greatness. I just gave him space to grow. The twins turned too.
Amora hosted a small party at home. Nothing loud, just family, close friends, a few balloons, cake, and music. Toby danced with them, spinning them around until they collapsed in laughter. Amora watched them and whispered to herself, “I didn’t give birth to you, but I was born again through you.” She walked over and hugged all three.
One rainy evening, 3 years later, Amora stepped out of her car in the middle of the street. It was the same spot where she first saw Toby. She stood there for a while under her umbrella, watching the traffic go by. This place had once changed everything. Now, it felt like the beginning of a new story.
Back at home, Toby, now 16, was finishing a speech for his school competition. The twins were reading books beside him. When Amora entered, they all ran to her. “Where did you go?” Toby asked. She smiled. “I went to where it all began.” He nodded. Then he looked at her. “Serious mom, I want to study law. I want to fight for children like me. I want to fight for mothers like Adessawa.
She looked at him. Then you will, she said. He smiled. I’ll make you proud. She pulled him close. You already have.
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