LUXURY AFTER LOSS

THE BABY MAMA CLAUSE

Chapter Eight:

Khalil didn’t even blink when Rhodesia told him she wanted to leave. He just sipped his drink and stared out of the window like the city owed him peace.

“You’re not leaving,” he said calmly. “You’ll keep the pregnancy. You’ll be my baby mama.”

Rhodesia swallowed. “You think I want to raise a child in the shadows of your mess?”

“You’ll raise it in gold, if that’s what you mean.”

She turned her face.

He walked up to her, lifted her chin. “I won’t lie to you. I’ll never leave my wife. But I’ll never leave you stranded, either.”

And he didn’t.

He paid her hospital bills in full private doctor, prenatal massages, imported supplements. He flew her to South Africa for rest in her 2nd trimester. She returned to Nigeria just before final exams.

She barely studied.

But the money did what the books couldn’t.

Her name still appeared on the graduation list. Second Class Lower. Not what she once dreamt of but it was something.

Her classmates whispered when she walked across the stage, belly small but visible.

Khalil didn’t show up to the convocation. He sent her roses the size of a coffin and a personal driver to take her home.

Three months after graduation, she gave birth to a baby boy.

His name: jeff Khalil Daniels.

Light-skinned. Perfect lips. A head full of curly hair. He looked like his father and cried like he already knew the world wasn’t fair.

Khalil didn’t come to the hospital but he came later that week. Quiet. Serious.

“I’ve made arrangements,” he said.

He flew Rhodesia and baby jeff to China for four months to clear her head and rest. When she returned to Nigeria, he had opened a large unisex fashion store in Lekki Phase 1.

“Your name is on all the documents,” he said. “You’re not just a girl anymore. You’re a businesswoman.”

He hired 8 staff. A manager. A driver. A full-time nanny for jeff.

Rhodesia almost forgot how her life had once been filled with pain.

Then came the news.

It was all over the internet.

Private jet en route from Morocco crashes off the coast of Spain. 3 dead. One of them: Nigerian billionaire investor, Khalil Daniels.

She dropped her phone.

The room spun.

Her knees buckled again just like the day she lost her parents.

Only this time, there was no body. No coffin. Just a headline.

Gone. Just like that.

A week later, she received a call from an unknown number.

“This is Barrister Adebanjo, Khalil’s personal lawyer. Madam Rhodesia, you are requested at the family house for a will reading.”

Her chest tightened.

Family house.

His wife. His children. His life.

The house was a mansion in Banana Island. Glass gates. White roses lining the walkway.

When she stepped into the living room, everything stopped.

There she was Mrs. Adaeze Daniels, Khalil’s legally recognized wife. Dressed in gold lace, skin glowing, face unreadable.

She looked Rhodesia up and down. Then glanced at the baby in her arms.

The room was full relatives, bodyguards, silent servants, and Khalil’s two teenage sons.

The lawyer cleared his throat.

“This will was last updated three months before Mr. Khalil Daniels passed. Shall we begin?”

The Will:

To my beloved wife, Adaeze: I leave 30% of my assets, including our marital home, personal savings, and jewelry collection.

To my sons: I leave 20% to be split equally in trust funds, managed until age 25.

To my staff and business partners: I leave a combined 10% in loyalty payouts and business transfers.

And to Miss Rhodesia Onyema, mother of my child jeff: I leave 40% of all remaining properties, accounts, and assets, including the business currently operating in her name, and a monthly estate allowance until the child turns 21.

This is my final wish. — Khalil Daniels.

The room went silent.

Mrs. Adaeze sat stiff, eyes wide.

“You must be joking,” she whispered.

The lawyer didn’t flinch. “It’s signed and notarized, madam.”

Rhodesia didn’t smile.

She didn’t gloat.

She just held her son tighter and whispered, “We’re going to be okay.”