*Chapter 18: David’s Break-In*
1543 Words
1:14am. Floor 39.
David pressed his back to the marble wall, sweat dripping down his neck. His suit jacket was gone. Tie loosened. He looked like a thief. He felt like one.
The old security code still worked. 091827. Their father’s birthday + their mother’s. Daniel changed Floor 40 codes, but he forgot Floor 39. Arrogance. Daniel always thought no one would get this close.
“Almost,” David whispered. 1 floor below Ada. 1 floor below Daniel.
He pulled out a hotel key card. Old one from Eko Hotel, Room 1204. He’d kept it too. Proof. Memory. Weapon.
He swiped it over the stairwell reader on Floor 39. Red light. Access denied. Daniel upgraded the biometrics after Chapter 16.
David kicked the door. Once. Twice. “Ada!” he hissed, voice low. “Ada, can you hear me?”
Silence. 40 floors up. Soundproof penthouse. His voice wouldn’t reach her.
He slumped against the door. Fists clenched. He was so close he could smell her shampoo from the vent. Or maybe that was just desperation.
“Mr. David?” A voice behind him.
David spun. Musa. Daniel’s head guard. Gun not drawn, but hand resting on it. 2 other guards behind him.
“You’re trespassing on restricted property,” Musa said flatly. “Mr. Daniel will be here in 3 minutes.”
David stood slowly. No weapon. Just rage and desperation. “I’m not trespassing. I’m her baby’s father. I have rights.”
“You have no access code,” Musa said. “Step away from the door.”
David didn’t move. “If Daniel touches her, if he hurts Baby B—”
“Mr. Daniel protects Miss Ada better than you ever did,” Musa cut him off. “You had 5 months. He has her now.”
The elevator dinged. Daniel stepped out. No tie. Shirt sleeves rolled up. Eyes cold. No surprise on his face. Like he expected this.
“David,” Daniel said. One word. Not angry. Tired.
David turned. “Let me see her. 2 minutes. I won’t touch her. I just need to know Baby B is okay. After that song she sang—”
“I heard it too,” Daniel cut him off. “Through CCTV audio. She sang my mother’s lullaby. You don’t get to use that against me.”
“I’m not using it,” David said. Voice breaking. “I’m using the fact that she’s trapped 40 floors up with no choice! Let her choose, Daniel! Let her come down and talk to me!”
Daniel walked closer until they were 2 feet apart. Same height. Same blood. Different choices.
“She did choose,” Daniel said quietly. “She chose calm. She chose Baby B’s heartbeat over your chaos. Every time you show up shouting in lobbies, Baby B’s vitals spike. Every time you text her, she stops eating. You’re not love, David. You’re stress. And I don’t allow stress in my penthouse.”
“That’s manipulation!” David shouted. “You’re turning her against me!”
“No,” Daniel said. “I’m turning her toward survival. Something you never understood. You run. You disappear. You leave notes. I stay. I pay. I protect.”
Musa stepped between them. “Sir, orders?”
Daniel looked at David for 10 long seconds. Calculating. Deciding if destroying his brother was worth more than Ada’s peace.
“Escort him out,” Daniel said finally. “No charges. But if he comes back, arrest him for trespassing. I won’t warn him again.”
“Daniel, please—” David started.
“Please what?” Daniel snapped. First crack in his calm. “Please let you ruin the only stable thing in her life right now? Please let Baby B die because you need closure? No, David. You lost your chance 5 months ago when you let her walk out of Room 1204 alone. I’m not making your mistake.”
The guards grabbed David’s arms. He didn’t fight. Not because he couldn’t. Because he saw it in Daniel’s eyes: Daniel would let the guards break his bones before he let David reach Floor 40.
As they dragged him to the elevator, David shouted one last thing: “Ada! I’m the father! The compass tattoo! You remember! Don’t let him lie to you!”
The elevator doors closed. Silence.
Daniel stood in the hallway, breathing hard. Not from fighting. From holding back. From not punching his own brother.
Musa cleared his throat. “Sir, Miss Ada… she heard him.”
Daniel’s head snapped up. “What?”
“The vent,” Musa said. “Floor 39 vent connects to penthouse air system for 2 seconds before filter. She heard ‘compass tattoo’. Her vitals spiked. Nurse said Baby B’s heart rate hit 160.”
Daniel closed his eyes. `Dammit, David.`
He took the stairs 2 at a time. 40 floors. He didn’t use elevator. Didn’t have time.
*Penthouse - 1:22am*
Ada stood in the middle of the living room, both hands on her stomach. Tears streaming. Breathing fast. Too fast.
Baby B’s monitor screamed. Beepbeepbeepbeepbeep. 160 bpm. Dangerous.
Nurses rushed in with oxygen mask. “Miss, breathe! In… out… with me! For Baby B!”
Ada couldn’t. All she heard was David’s voice through the vent: `compass tattoo`.
It was him. Proof. Final proof. Daniel wasn’t the father.
The door burst open. Daniel. Sweating. Hair messy. First time she’d ever seen him undone.
He took one look at her, at the oxygen mask, at the monitor screaming, and something broke in his face.
“Get out,” he told the nurses. All 4 of them. “Now.”
“Sir, she needs—”
“OUT!” Daniel roared. Then immediately softened his voice. “Please. I’ll handle it.”
The nurses left. Door closed.
Daniel crossed the room in 3 strides. Knelt in front of Ada on the marble floor. No CEO. No control. Just a man.
“Look at me,” he said, taking her face in both hands. His hands were warm. Calloused from years of work before he inherited money. “Breathe with me, Ada. In. 4 seconds. Out. 6 seconds. Like I taught you.”
“I heard him,” Ada sobbed. “Compass tattoo. It was David. It was always David. You lied—”
“I didn’t lie,” Daniel said, voice raw. “I paid for speed. I needed to know if I was raising another man’s child or my own. The lab gave me an answer. 99.99%. Maybe it was wrong. Maybe I wanted it to be right so bad I didn’t question it. But Ada, listen to me.”
He pressed her hand to his chest, over his heart. Like he did that first night in the kitchen.
“I don’t care if David is the father,” Daniel said, words tumbling out fast, urgent. “I care that you’re here. That Baby B is dying every time you panic. That you sang my mother’s song and for 3 minutes I wasn’t alone. So breathe. Please. For me. For them. Breathe.”
Ada sucked in air. 4 seconds. Out 6 seconds. Monitor slowed. 150…140…130…
Daniel didn’t let go of her face. His thumbs wiped her tears. “David had 5 minutes 5 months ago. I have every day since. I have your mother’s hospital paid. I have doctors here 24/7. I have a nursery ready. What does David have? A key card and guilt.”
“That’s cruel,” Ada whispered.
“It’s true,” Daniel said. “Cruel is letting you run to him and lose Baby B. Cruel is pretending DNA doesn’t matter when babies’ lives do. I’m not cruel, Ada. I’m desperate. For you. For them. For us.”
The monitor hit 120 bpm. Safe zone.
Ada slumped against him. Exhausted. Daniel caught her before she hit the floor. Lifted her like she weighed nothing. Carried her to bed.
He lay her down, pulled blanket up. Then he did something he’d never done.
He lay on the floor beside her bed. Not in it. On the floor. Back against the mattress. So she could see him if she opened her eyes.
“I’m not leaving this room tonight,” he said quietly. “Not until Baby B sleeps. Not until you sleep. Sing if you want. Or don’t. Just breathe.”
Ada stared at the ceiling. Daniel’s breathing was steady beside her. Calm. Anchoring.
After 20 minutes, she whispered, “Why do you want me so bad, Daniel? If the babies aren’t even yours?”
Daniel was quiet so long she thought he fell asleep on the floor.
Then: “Because you sang to me,” he said finally. “No one’s sung to me since I was 6. Everyone wants my money. My name. My company. You… you sang to my children like they were already loved. I want to be loved like that too, Ada. Even if I don’t deserve it.”
Ada closed her eyes. Tears fell sideways into her hair.
Baby B’s monitor: Beep…beep…beep. Steady. Calm.
And Daniel Okafor, who owned 40 floors of Lagos, fell asleep on the floor beside her bed because she was afraid.
- Writer
