I WAS PREGNANT WHEN MY SISTER STOLE MY HUSBAND

THE BILLIONAIRE CLAIMED US

*CHAPTER 2: THE BILLIONAIRE CLAIMED US*

The Entabeni Private Hospital didn't look like a hospital.

It looked like a five-star hotel. Gold chandeliers. Marble floors. A private elevator that went straight to the Mthembu Maternity Wing - a whole floor that was closed for me.

"Lerato, breathe with me," Zamo said, holding my hand so tightly his knuckles were white. "In, out. In, out. You're safe. No one will hurt you or the babies here."

I was trying to breathe, but the pain was too much. Twin labour with no drugs, no husband, no mother - just a billionaire stranger who claimed my babies were his.

"Why are you doing this?" I screamed as another contraction tore me apart. "You don't even know me!"

Zamo leaned down, his forehead touching mine. His eyes were wet. "I know you, Lerato. You make small wooden trays with 'Home is where love is' written on them. You sell them at the Hillcrest market every Saturday. You always give the extra R20 change back even when the customer says keep it. You cry when you think no one is watching because your mother taught you to be strong. And you deserve so much better than a bench at the airport."

He knew. He knew about my little business. About Hillcrest market. How?

Dr. Khumalo, a kind woman with grey hair, burst in with five nurses. "Ms. Dlamini, we need to get these babies out now. Twin B's heart rate is dropping. We need to do an emergency C-section. Mr. Mthembu, you need to wait outside."

"No," Zamo said instantly. "I'm staying."

"Mr. Mthembu, this is -"

"She has no family here. I am their father. I'm staying."

Dr. Khumalo looked at me. I nodded weakly. I didn't want to be alone. Not again.

The next hour was a blur of bright lights, cold air, and Zamo's voice in my ear. "You are so brave. You are so strong. Almost there, mama."

Mama. No one had called me mama yet.

Then, two cries. Not one. Two. Loud, angry, beautiful cries that filled the whole operating room.

"Baby A - girl, 2.3kg! Baby B - boy, 2.5kg! Both healthy!"

I started sobbing. My babies. My twins. They were here. They were alive. They were crying.

Zamo's hands were shaking as Dr. Khumalo placed the two tiny bundles in my arms. A girl with a full head of black hair, just like me. And a boy with... with light brown eyes. Unusual light brown eyes. Like someone else's.

Zamo stared at the boy. Then at me. Then tears - actual tears - rolled down his cold, ruthless face.

"They have my eyes," he whispered. "My son has my eyes. Lerato... look."

The boy opened his eyes fully and stared right at Zamo. And it was true. The same light hazel-brown eyes I had seen on magazine covers. The famous Mthembu eyes.

"What's their names?" the nurse asked softly.

I hadn't thought of names. Thabo said we would name them after his parents. I had no names now.

Zamo knelt beside my hospital bed, his suit ruined, his hair messy, his billionaire mask completely gone.

"If you allow me," he said quietly, his voice breaking, "I would like my daughter to be named Amahle. Because she is beautiful, like her mother. And my son... Lwandile. Because I have grown. You made me grow."

Amahle and Lwandile Mthembu.

My babies had a surname. A powerful surname that would protect them.

"But Thabo..." I whispered. "What if Thabo -"

Zamo's face turned to ice. The soft man was gone. The Wolf was back.

"Thabo Nkosi," he said, pulling out his phone. "He works at Nkosi Logistics? His father owns it? By tomorrow morning, that company will not get a single shipment into Durban port. By tomorrow afternoon, your sister's i********: boutique that sells fake designer bags? Reported and closed. They wanted to leave you with nothing? I will show them what nothing feels like."

I should have been scared. This man was dangerous.

But for the first time since my mother died, I felt... safe. Protected. Like someone was finally fighting FOR me, not against me.

Zamo leaned down and kissed my forehead, so gently it made my heart stop.

"Sleep, Lerato. I will be here when you wake up. I will be here every time you wake up. I promise."

I fell asleep with Amahle and Lwandile on my chest, with Zamo's jacket still around my shoulders, with the city lights of Durban twinkling outside the window of the most expensive hospital room in South Africa.

Three hours ago I was on a bench with R180.

Now I was in a private wing with twins who just made me a billionaire's whole world.

And somewhere in Hillcrest, Thabo and Naledi had no idea what was coming.

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