Contract Mom: The Billionaire's Family Secret

The sunlit courtyard of Little Wonders Academy overflowed with vibrant colors, laughter, and the cheerful chaos of children celebrating Family Fun Day. Ribbons danced in the warm Abuja breeze, paper streamers fluttered from makeshift tents, and the scent of buttered popcorn and chin-chin filled the air. Everywhere, parents snapped photos, clapped for performances, and huddled over arts-and-crafts tables beside their children. All except one corner. Five-year-old Precious Yisa sat on a blue plastic chair, her tiny back straight, her eyes blankly focused on the paper before her. Her class was decorating “My Family” cards. Some used glitter. Others pasted stickers. The air was alive with giggles and excited chatter. Precious’s white dress — pressed earlier by the housekeeper — was now speckled with gold glue. She held a paintbrush in one hand, unmoving. She dipped it in red, then blue, and finally just left it in the water jar. “Precious, where’s your mommy?” a boy from her class asked, looking over curiously as he pasted a sticker of a smiling sun on his own card. “She’s... busy,” she whispered without looking up. “Oh,” he said. “Mine came. She brought cupcakes!” He ran off before he noticed her bottom lip tremble. Precious blinked fast and looked down at her card again. It read in shaky, uneven letters: MY DREAM MOM She had drawn her — not Jessica, her real mom, but someone else. A woman with kind eyes, soft curly hair, and open arms. Someone who smiled like she meant it, someone who would come. Last year, she had waited. Jessica didn’t show. This year, she had hoped again. Daddy said, “Let’s pray she makes it.” But no one came. Precious picked up her glitter glue again, ignoring the lump in her throat. She didn’t want to cry. Not today. Somewhere across the yard, the loudspeaker crackled, and a teacher announced a group dance. Parents clapped, and children squealed. And Precious quietly slipped away from the table and sat on the grass behind the jungle gym, hugging her knees. Meanwhile… Dr. Andrew Yisa moved through the quiet corridors of Heartline Cardiac Hospital with practiced urgency. His white coat billowed as he reviewed a patient’s scan. Nurses and junior doctors cleared paths for him with respectful nods. “Prepare the theatre for tomorrow’s valve replacement,” he said briskly. “I want final lab results before six.” “Yes, Doctor,” the nurse replied. At thirty-nine, Andrew had built an empire — a state-of-the-art hospital, successful oil investments, board memberships. His name was synonymous with excellence. His photo had graced medical journals and business magazines alike. But none of that mattered right now. His phone buzzed. New Notification: Little Wonders Academy - Family Fun Day Photos He tapped it absently, expecting to see Precious smiling. Instead, he saw her sitting alone, head bowed, and a tiny card in her lap. No smile, no joy, Just... loneliness. His heart clenched. She had asked again if Jessica would come. He had tried to explain, as gently as he could, that her mother had... other commitments. He had told her, “Sometimes, people we love don’t know how to show love back.” Still, she had dressed herself excitedly that morning. She had also chosen her white sandals, packed her drawing pencils. And now, she was alone. Andrew stopped walking. The hallway dimmed, the weight of guilt pressing on his chest like a boulder. He closed the app, turned to his assistant. “Cancel my five o’clock consult,” he said. “Sir?” “I need to be somewhere.” By late afternoon, the mansion in Asokoro District was quiet. Andrew walked through the front doors, loosening his tie. The housekeeper greeted him, concerned. “She’s in her room, sir, didn’t want to eat.” He nodded. Upstairs, in a cozy pink room filled with stuffed animals and painted stars, Precious sat on her bed, hugging her teddy bear. Her “Family Day” badge was still pinned to her chest. Andrew sat beside her, careful not to startle her. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. She didn’t look at him. “It’s okay.” “No, it’s not.” “She said she’s in Lekki,” Precious murmured. “Filming something ‘important.’ She said school events are for ordinary kids. But am I just ordinary to her? I thought I mean more?” Andrew swallowed hard. “She’s wrong,” he said gently. “You’re extraordinary, sweetheart. She just doesn’t know how to see it.” Precious was quiet for a long time. “Daddy?” “Yes, my love?” “Can I have a pretend mommy?” He blinked. “A pretend what?” “A mommy. Just for a little while. Someone to come to school, and someone who’ll smile at me and call me her daughter. Just three months. Please, Daddy. Please.” Andrew stared at her. His logical mind began cataloguing complications — legal risks, emotional confusion, and the possibility of damage... But then he saw her, the tear on her cheek. The way her fingers curled tighter around the bear. His daughter, his world. And for the first time in years, he felt powerless. He nodded slowly. “Okay, Precious. I’ll see what I can do.” Her head snapped up. “Really?” “Yes.” “But she has to be nice. Like the one I painted.” Andrew managed a smile. “Of course.” She leapt forward and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Thank you, Daddy! Thank you!” And as he held her tight, a quiet thought crept into his mind: A pretend mom, what could possibly go wrong? Later that night… Andrew stood by the bar in his private study, pouring himself a rare drink. The mansion was silent — too silent, the kind of quiet that reminded him of everything missing. He picked up the framed photo of Jessica on the shelf — her dazzling smile, her movie-star confidence. And yet, all he could feel was the emptiness she left behind. She had always been ambitious, and he admired that. But after marriage, her priorities shifted. Their daughter became an afterthought. Arguments followed. Headlines erupted. And eventually, she walked out — not just on him, but on Precious too. He sighed and set the frame down. This wasn’t about him anymore. It was about the little girl who painted dream moms on glittery cards. He opened his laptop and typed into the browser: “Professional nannies – Abuja” “Caregivers with school experience” “Temporary live-in family assistants” Nothing felt right. Then, a resume link caught his eye. Name: Samantha Gana Profession: Nutritionist Experience: Children’s clinics, home meal programs, outreach volunteer Special Note: “I believe in restoring broken things — especially people.” He clicked it. A simple photo, warm smile. Quiet confidence. No flashy filters. No exaggerated branding. Something about her made him pause. He picked up his phone and hovered over the number on her profile His finger hesitated. Then he pressed CALL. Andrew’s eyes stayed locked on the screen. Samantha Gana. Nutritionist. Volunteer. Gentle smile. No trace of glamor — but something about her radiated quiet strength. His thumb hovered over the CALL button. In the hallway, Precious’s laughter echoed faintly — the rare kind that came from hope. He pressed the button. Ring... Ring... Then — click. The line connected. “Hello?” came a soft, female voice. Andrew hesitated. How did a billionaire surgeon ask a complete stranger to pretend to be his wife? But before he could speak, the woman said gently, “If this is about the job post… I’m available. But only if it’s real work — no games.” Andrew’s lips parted. Too be continued ……. Next She had no idea what she was walking into. And neither did he. Samantha says yes… but on one shocking condition.