*Chapter 16: No Escape*
1270 Words
The move happened at 3am.
Ada woke up to hands on her IV and voices she didn’t recognize. “Mr. Okafor’s orders, ma. We’re relocating you to the penthouse floor.”
“Relocating?” Ada sat up too fast. Dizziness hit her. Baby B’s monitor beeped fast. Beepbeepbeep. “I’m not going anywhere. My doctor said bed rest, not moving hospitals—”
“Not hospital,” one nurse said, strapping her wrist monitor tighter. “Mr. Okafor’s private penthouse. Floor 40. Same medical equipment. Better security.”
Ada tried to stand. Musa the guard blocked her path. “Doctor’s orders, ma. No stress. Mr. Daniel says penthouse has no stairs, no visitors, no… distractions.”
`No David,` he meant.
2 hours later, Ada stared out floor-to-ceiling glass at all of Lagos. 40 floors up. No danfo. No market noise. Just silence and wealth and a cage she couldn’t see.
The penthouse was bigger than her old apartment building. Marble floors. Baby nursery with 2 cribs already. Hospital bed in the bedroom. 4 nurses in Daniel’s uniform. Zero of them was Amaka.
“Where’s Nurse Amaka?” Ada asked the head nurse.
“Transferred,” the nurse said, not meeting her eyes. “Mr. Daniel’s orders. You have the best now, ma. Don’t worry.”
Ada knew what “transferred” meant. Fired. Or worse. Because she helped Ada find the truth.
The door opened. Daniel walked in wearing a bathrobe. 3am and he looked like he owned the night.
“How’s the view?” he asked like they were on vacation.
“It’s a prison,” Ada said flatly. Hand on her stomach. Baby A kicked. Baby B fluttered weak. “You can’t just move me without consent, Daniel. That’s kidnapping.”
Daniel poured himself water. Didn’t offer her any. “You’re 20 weeks pregnant with twins. One twin has low fluid. Doctor said no stairs, no stress, no travel. Penthouse has everything on one floor. I’m following doctor’s orders.”
“You’re following control,” Ada shot back. “Where’s David? I need to tell him—”
“David can’t come up,” Daniel cut her off. Voice still calm. “Security codes changed 2 hours ago. Only my biometric + nurse biometric opens this floor. For your safety. For Baby B’s safety. Remember? No stress.”
Ada grabbed the hospital bed rail. “You’re isolating me!”
“I’m protecting you,” Daniel said, finally looking at her. Eyes dark. Tired. “From him. From stress. From the truth you think you found.”
He walked to her, stopped 1 foot away. “Let me be clear, Ada. I don’t care what that degraded DNA says. I don’t care if you paid that man 5 months ago. You’re here. The babies are mine in every way that matters. Name. Money. Protection. Future. So stop looking for exits. There aren’t any.”
Ada slapped him. Hard. The sound cracked in the silent penthouse.
All 4 nurses froze. Musa stepped forward but Daniel raised one hand. Stop.
Daniel touched his cheek where her handprint burned red. Then he smiled. Small. Not kind. “Good. Anger is better than tears. Anger means you’re fighting. I prefer you fight me than break down for him.”
“You’re sick,” Ada whispered. “This isn’t love. This is ownership.”
“Maybe,” Daniel said. “But it’s ownership that keeps Baby B alive. So choose, Ada. Fight me and stress Baby B. Or accept me and keep Baby B stable. You’re a mother. You choose.”
He walked out. Locked the door from outside. Electronic beep.
Ada sank to her knees on the marble. 40 floors up. No phone. No David. No Amaka. Just Daniel’s nurses and his rules and his babies inside her.
Baby B kicked weak. Beep……beep. Stress was killing it.
“Okay,” Ada whispered to her stomach, tears falling. “Okay. I choose you. Not him. Not David. You, my love.”
*12:00pm - Same Day*
David stood at the penthouse elevator. Security blocked him. “Floor 40 is restricted, sir. Mr. Daniel’s orders.”
“I’m his brother,” David said, voice low, dangerous. “I have shares in this building.”
“Not access to Floor 40,” security said flatly. “New protocol.”
David pulled out his phone. Called Ada. Blocked. Texted. Undelivered.
He slammed his fist on the elevator button until his knuckles bled. “You can’t keep her from me, Daniel! She has rights! The babies have rights!”
The elevator dinged. Daniel stepped out. Alone. No security. Just him and David and 20 years of brother rivalry.
“Leave,” Daniel said. One word. Final.
“Not without her,” David said. “I know the truth now. The lab. The 5M. The ‘degraded’ sample. You forced it.”
Daniel’s expression didn’t change. “I paid for speed. The lab did their job. And Ada chose to stay in my penthouse. She chose Baby B’s health over your drama.”
“You’re lying!” David shouted. “Let me see her! 5 minutes! She’ll tell you herself—”
“She’s sleeping,” Daniel said. “Doctor prescribed sedative for stress. You shouting in the lobby? That’s stress, David. You’re hurting your niece or nephew right now.”
That stopped David cold. His fists unclenched.
“Please,” David whispered. All the billionaire arrogance gone. Just a man begging. “Let me talk to her. I’ll leave after. I just need to know she’s okay. That Baby B is okay.”
Daniel studied him for 10 seconds. Then shook his head once. “No. You had 5 months to claim her. You didn’t. I did. This is my family now. Not yours.”
The elevator doors closed between them.
David punched the wall. Once. Twice. Blood on white paint. “I won’t let you erase me, Daniel. I won’t.”
Upstairs, Ada heard nothing. The penthouse was soundproof. She woke up 2 hours later to a plate of food and a note on her bedside.
Daniel’s handwriting. Sharp, angular: `Ate 80% of your meal. Baby B’s vitals stabilized. You made the right choice. - D`
No “love”. No “sorry”. Just facts. Control.
Ada crumpled the note. Then smoothed it out. Then read it again. Because 40 floors up with no one, Daniel’s words were the only voice she had.
She pressed both hands to her stomach. “I’m sorry, my loves,” she whispered. “Mummy is trapped. But I’ll find a way. For you. Even if I have to pretend.”
Baby A kicked strong. Baby B fluttered, then went quiet for 3 seconds that felt like death. Then beep. Beep. Slow but there.
Ada closed her eyes. Pretend. Survive. Protect them. That was her plan now.
Downstairs, Daniel watched the CCTV of her room. Saw her crumple the note, then smooth it. Saw her whisper to her stomach.
He turned to Musa. “No one in or out of Floor 40 without my fingerprint. Not even me if I’m angry. Especially not David.”
“Yes, sir,” Musa said.
Daniel looked back at the screen. Ada was stroking her stomach, singing softly. A lullaby his mother used to sing.
His jaw clenched. He didn’t have a mother who sang to him. He had board meetings.
`She’s mine,` he thought again. `Even if she hates me. Even if the babies aren’t my blood. She’s mine.`
And 40 floors up, Ada had no idea Daniel was watching her every breath.
- Writer
