24-HOUR CARE
736 Words
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*Chapter 11: 24-HOUR CARE*
The doctor’s words hit harder than the surgery itself.
“Miss Chioma, your sister will need 24-hour medical care for the next 30 days minimum. Monitoring, medication, physiotherapy. She can’t be alone. Not even for 5 minutes.”
Chioma nodded, but her mind was already calculating. 24 hours = 3 shifts of nurses. 3 shifts = 15 million naira she didn’t have.
She felt the floor tilt under her feet.
“Is there... is there a cheaper option?” she whispered.
The doctor gave her a pitying look. “Not if you want her to live.”
Chioma closed her eyes. Contract marriage. 50 million already spent. And now 15 million more?
She was so screwed.
“Miss Chioma?”
She opened her eyes. Daniel stood there, phone pressed to his ear, suit jacket back on. CEO mode activated.
He hung up and looked at the doctor. “What exactly does 24-hour care require?”
The doctor listed it: 2 nurses per shift, ICU equipment, emergency response, medication every 4 hours...
Daniel listened to all of it. Face blank. Then he turned to Chioma.
“My mansion has a medical wing,” he said like he was discussing weather. “2 resident doctors. 6 nurses on payroll. ICU-grade equipment. They handle my board members when they drink too much.”
Chioma stared at him. “What?”
“Billionaires get sick too, Chioma,” Daniel said dryly. “My home is basically a private hospital. She can recover there. No extra cost.”
“No,” Chioma said fast. Too fast. “I’m not moving into your house, Daniel.”
Daniel raised an eyebrow. “You signed a marriage contract. Legally, you’re already my wife. Living together is clause 3.”
“That was on paper!” Chioma’s voice cracked. “Not real life. Not sharing the same roof. Not—”
“Not what?” Daniel stepped closer. “Not letting me help? Not letting your sister get the best care? Tell me, Chioma. What’s your plan? Hospital bill you can’t pay? Nurse you can’t afford?”
Chioma had no answer. Tears burned her eyes. Pride vs Ada’s life. Pride lost.
“I... I can’t,” she whispered. “Living with you... people will talk. They’ll say I married you for money.”
Daniel’s expression didn’t change. “People will talk anyway. At least this way, your sister lives.”
He pulled out his phone, typed something, then showed her the screen. A photo of a bright room. Hospital bed, monitors, window with garden view. Toys on the shelf.
“I converted the east wing last year,” he said quietly. “For my mother. Before she... passed.” His voice was flat, but his hand gripped the phone too tight. “It’s empty now. Ada can have it. Garden view helps recovery.”
Chioma looked at the photo. Then at Daniel. This cold man was offering the room he made for his dead mother. For her sister.
Her throat closed.
“When?” she asked.
“Ambulance leaves in 2 hours,” Daniel said. “Pack one bag. Clause 3, Mrs. Okoye. You’re coming home. With me.”
Chioma wanted to argue. Wanted to say no. But the doctor was already nodding. “It’s the best option, Miss Chioma. For your sister.”
So that was it. No choice.
2 hours later, Chioma sat in the back of Daniel’s black Bentley, watching Lagos blur past the window. Ada was in the medical van ahead, hooked to machines. Safe.
Daniel sat beside her. Silent. Looking at his phone like he wasn’t breaking a rule by sitting this close.
Chioma hugged herself. “Daniel?”
“Hmm?”
“Why are you doing this? The contract says you only pay the 50M. Not... this.”
Daniel didn’t look up from his phone. “Contract also says I protect what’s mine, Chioma.”
“I’m not yours,” she whispered.
Daniel finally turned to her. His dark eyes were unreadable.
“You signed the papers,” he said softly. “Legally, you are. And I don’t let what’s mine suffer.”
The car turned into a massive gate. Iron gates, security, mansion bigger than her whole street.
Chioma’s heart pounded. She was walking into the lion’s den.
Clause 3. Living together. 30 days minimum.
God help her.
*End of Chapter 11*
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- Writer
