The CEO’s Secret Baby Mama

The Lagos heat was unforgiving, but the fire burning in Teni’s chest was worse. She clutched her worn-out leather bag tighter as she stood in front of the towering glass monolith that was Sterling Heights Holdings. Three years. It had been three years since the night that changed everything. "Next!" a sharp voice barked. Teni stepped forward, her heels clicking nervously on the marble floor. She didn't belong here. She belonged in the cramped, two-room apartment in Sango where her son, Tobi, was currently waiting for her. Tobi, with his curly hair and those piercing, deep-set eyes that he definitely didn't get from her. "Name and purpose of visit?" the receptionist asked, not even looking up from her computer. "Teniola Williams. I’m here for the... the cleaning supervisor interview." The receptionist finally looked up, her eyes scanning Teni’s faded but neatly ironed blouse. "Floor 42. Don't wander off. The CEO is in a mood today." Teni nodded, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. She just needed this job. The "Soft Life" everyone talked about on i********: felt like a myth, but she didn’t need a soft life—she just needed to buy Tobi’s asthma inhaler and pay the landlord before he threw their mats into the rain. The elevator ride was too fast. When the doors opened, the air-conditioning hit her like a bucket of ice water. It smelled like expensive cologne and power. Suddenly, a group of men in sharp charcoal suits rounded the corner. They were walking fast, arguing over a tablet. "I don't care about the glitch in the merger, find a solution by 5 PM or find a new job!" The voice. Teni froze. That deep, gravelly baritone didn't belong in a dream. It belonged to a dimly lit hotel room in Victoria Island three years ago. It belonged to the man who had bought her a drink when she was celebrating a job she eventually lost. The man who had disappeared before the sun came up, leaving only a scent of sandalwood and a gold cufflink on the nightstand. She tried to turn away, to hide behind a decorative plant, but her heel caught on the plush carpet. "Watch it," a cold voice snapped. Teni looked up. The man at the center of the group stopped. He was taller than she remembered, his jawline sharper, his eyes like two pieces of flint. Alexander Sterling. The billionaire "Ice King" of Lagos. He looked down at her, his gaze sweeping over her face. For a split second, his shadow fell over her, and the air between them turned electric. His eyes narrowed, a flicker of something—recognition? Confusion?—passing through them. "Do I know you?" he demanded, his voice dropping an octave. Teni’s throat went bone-dry. If she told him the truth, her life would change forever. But if she lied, she might lose the only job that could save her son. "No, Sir," she whispered, looking at her scuffed shoes. "I'm just the help." Alexander lingered for a second too long, his eyes searching hers. Then, he adjusted his tie and kept walking. "Get her out of the hallway," he tossed back to his assistant. "She’s distracting." Teni leaned against the wall as they walked away, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She had come here for a paycheck, but she had just walked into a lion's den. Because Tobi didn't just have Alexander's eyes. He had his stubborn scowl, too. And sooner or later, the "Ice King" was going to find out that his empire had an heir living in a slum.