Nobody thought a dead car battery would be the beginning of everything that happened in this story. But that is life. It throws surprises when you are not looking. This is a story about Jacob. Just Jacob. Not Jacob, the successful man. Not Jacob, the wealthy businessman.

 Just Jacob, the mechanic who fixed cars under the scorching Lagos sun with oil permanently stained on his fingers and sweat always dripping down his back. He had a small workshop in Auda. Nothing fancy, just a shed with rusted tools and a dream that one day things would get better. Jacob had Mariam, his wife. She was everything to him.

 They married young, both of them thinking love would fill their stomachs and pay the bills. It did not. Love is sweet, but poverty is bitter. And they tasted that bitterness every single day. Then there was Helen, their daughter, 8 years old, bright as the morning sun, with her mother’s eyes and her father’s stubborn spirit.

 She was the reason Jacob woke up every morning even when his body begged him to stay in bed. But how do you explain to a child that there is no food? How do you tell her that she cannot go to school because you do not have money for fees? Those are the moments that break a man from the inside. The kind of pain that does not show on the face but eats slowly.

 That Tuesday started like every other day for Jacob. He opened his workshop at 6:00 in the morning, hoping someone would bring a car to fix. By noon, he had only earned 3,000 naira from repairing a motorcycle. 3,000 naira in Lagos. It was not even enough to buy proper food for his family. Then his phone rang. Mechanic Abe, come quick. We need you for emergency. It was Alhaji Musa, a driver he knew.

 The voice was tense, like something serious had happened. Where? Jacob asked, already grabbing his toolbox. I sighed. near the new estate they are building. Madam’s car just died and we are stranded here. Please make it fast. Jacob did not ask questions. He just jumped on his motorcycle and headed there. The area was far, isolated with half-finished buildings and red dirt roads.

 When he arrived, he saw a black Range Rover parked by the roadside. And standing beside it was a woman. Not just any woman. She was dressed in a cream colored suit that probably cost more than everything Jacob owned. Her shoes sparkled in the sun and she wore dark sunglasses that covered half her face. Even from a distance, anyone could tell she was rich.

 The kind of rich that makes you feel small just by standing near them. Good afternoon, Ma. Jacob greeted, bowing slightly the way we do in Nigeria when we meet someone of high status. She looked at him, removed her sunglasses, and Jacob saw her eyes. They were tired. Not the tiredness from lack of sleep, but the kind that comes from carrying heavy burdens for too long.

 Can you fix it?” she asked. Her voice was calm but firm. The voice of someone used to giving orders. Jacob opened the bonnet and checked. The battery was completely down. Madam na the battery. It will take time to charge it. She sighed and looked around the empty area. There was nowhere to go.

 No shops, no shade, nothing. Just sun and dust. How long? She asked. Maybe 1 hour, 1 hour 30 minutes. Ma. She looked at her driver, then back at Jacob. Fine, I will wait. Jacob set up the charger in his small workshop area, just a corner with a bench and some tools. She followed him, and he could see her looking around, probably wondering how people survived in such conditions.

 He offered her the only chair he had, wiped it with a rag first, and she sat down. At first, there was silence. Jacob worked on the battery while she made phone calls, cancelling meetings, rescheduling appointments. Her life sounded busy, important, the kind of life Jacob could never understand. Then she spoke to him.

 What is your name? Jacob. Ma. Jacob, she repeated as if testing how it sounded. Did you go to school? Jacob hesitated. That question always carried shame for him. Yes, ma. I finished secondary school, but I could not continue. No money. She nodded slowly like she understood. Though Jacob doubted someone like her could truly understand what it meant to drop out because your parents could not afford 50,000 naira for university.

 “You seem like a smart boy,” she said. “Life is just not fair sometimes.” Jacob did not know what to say, so he just continued working. But she kept talking, asking him questions about his life, his family, his dreams. He told her about Mariam and Helen, about how he was struggling to pay school fees, about how some days he would go to bed hungry just so his daughter could eat. She listened. Really listened.

 Not the way rich people usually pretend to listen while their minds are elsewhere. She looked at him with something Jacob had not seen in a long time. Genuine concern. When the battery was fully charged, Jacob installed it back and the car roared to life. She smiled and for the first time, Jacob saw her face relax.

 “How much?” she asked, reaching for her purse. “5,000 naira, ma.” She pulled out a bundle of cash and gave him 20,000. Keep the change. You did well. Jacob was shocked. 20,000 naira for 1 hour of work. His hands were shaking as he collected the money. Then she did something that would change everything. She gave him her business card.

 My name is Amanda Okoro, she said. If you ever need anything, call me. I mean it. Jacob looked at the card. It was thick, elegant with gold letters that read, Amanda Okoro, CEO, Okoro Estates and Investments. Thank you, Ma. Jacob stammered. God bless you. She smiled again, got into her car, and drove away, leaving a cloud of dust behind.

 Jacob stood there for a long time, staring at that card, wondering if she really meant what she said. Rich people say many things they do not mean. But something in her eyes told him she was different. When Jacob got home that evening, Mariam was cooking beans in the kitchen. He showed her the money and the card. “Jacob, what is this?” she asked, her eyes narrowing. A woman.

 Her car broke down. I fixed it and she gave me her card. She said I should call her if I need anything. Mariam’s face changed. That look, the one wives give when they sense danger. Jacob, do not even think about it. Do not call that woman. Do not go to her house. Do you hear me? But she was just being nice. Nice. Mariam dropped the spoon and faced him.

 Rich women are not just nice for no reason. Please Jacob, whatever you are thinking, forget it. We will manage with what we have. Jacob wanted to argue, but he kept quiet. Marryiam was a good woman and he respected her. So, he put the card in his pocket and tried to forget about it. But life does not let you forget. 3 weeks later, Helen came home crying, carrying a letter from her school.

 Jacob opened it and read the words that every poor parent dreads. Your daughter’s school fees are 6 months overdue. If payment is not made within one week, she will be withdrawn from school. Jacob looked at Helen’s face, saw the shame in her eyes, and something broke inside him. He reached into his pocket and pulled out that business card.

 Mariam saw him and shook her head. Jacob, no. But Jacob was already dialing the number. It rang twice before she picked up. Hello. Her voice was the same, calm and confident. Good evening, Ma. This is Jacob, the mechanic. You said I should call if I needed help. There was a pause.

 Then she spoke and anyone listening could hear the smile in her voice. Jacob, I have been waiting for your call. Those words hung in the air like a promise or maybe a warning. Jacob did not know which one yet. Ma, I my daughter’s school fees. Jacob stammered. They want to send her away from school. I do not know what to do anymore. Amanda’s voice softened.

 How much do you need? The fees are 250,000 naira ma, but anything you can help with, I will be grateful. There was silence on the other end. Jacob’s heart was pounding. Maybe he had asked for too much. Maybe she would laugh at him and cut the call. Maybe Mariam was right and he should never have dialed that number. Jacob Amanda finally said, “Come to my house tomorrow. Let us talk properly.

 I will send you the address. Thank you, Ma. God bless you, Ma. Stop calling me ma all the time,” she said, and Jacob could hear something playful in her tone. “My name is Amanda. Use it.” The call ended, and Jacob stood there staring at his phone.

 “Mariam was watching him from the kitchen doorway, arms folded across her chest.” “So, you called her,” Mariam said. “It was not a question.” “Our daughter needs to go to school,” Jacob replied, his voice firmer than he felt. “What was I supposed to do? You were supposed to be a man and find another way. Not run to some strange woman who gives you her number after one meeting. Mariam, please, not tonight.

 But Mariam was not done. You think I do not see what is happening. Rich woman, young handsome mechanic. Jacob, use your brain. What does she want from you? She wants to help us. Nobody helps for free. Mariam turned back to the kitchen, but Jacob heard her mutter under her breath. This will not end well.

 The next day, Jacob took a bus to Leki. Amanda’s address led him to a neighborhood he had only seen in movies. The houses were massive with high gates, manicured lawns, and security guards everywhere. When he finally found her gate and told the security who he was, they let him in without questions, like they had been expecting him.

 The house was something else. It was not just big. It was beautiful in a way that made Jacob feel out of place. marble floors, chandeliers, furniture that looked too expensive to sit on. He stood in the living room, afraid to touch anything. Then he heard voices, loud, angry voices. Amanda, what is this dirty thing doing in our house? The voice belonged to a woman who looked exactly like Amanda, but her face was twisted with disgust. “Amarker, calm down,” Amanda said, walking into the living room.

 She was wearing a simple dress, but even that looked expensive. “He is a guest. a guest. The woman, a marker, looked Jacob up and down like he was something she found under her shoe. Look at him. Look at his clothes. He is a beggar. What is he doing here? I met him when my car broke down. He helped me.

 And now he has come to collect his reward. Abi. Amarka laughed. A harsh sound that made Jacob want to disappear. Amanda, you are too soft. These people smell money and they come running. Send him away before he steals something. Jacob felt his face burn with shame.

 He wanted to defend himself, to tell this woman that he was not a thief, that he had dignity even if he was poor. But the words would not come out. Amarka, that is enough, Amanda said, her voice cold. Now, “This is my house.” “If you cannot be respectful, then leave.” Before Amarka could respond, two young men walked into the room.

 They looked about 20 years old, well-dressed, with the kind of confidence that comes from never worrying about money. Auntie Amanda, good afternoon. They greeted in unison. Then they noticed Jacob. Who is this? Emma Chisum. This is Jacob. He is a friend. Amanda said. Amarka scoffed. Friend. You people hear that? A mechanic is now our friend. Mommy, leave auntie alone.

 One of the boys said, but he was also looking at Jacob with curiosity mixed with suspicion. A marker grabbed her sons by their arms. Come, let us go inside. before this poverty enters your body.” She threw one last disgusted look at Jacob before dragging her children away. Jacob stood there frozen. He had never felt so small in his entire life. Amanda sighed and touched his arm gently. “I am sorry about my sister.

 She can be difficult. Come, let us talk somewhere else.” She led him to another sitting room, smaller but still beautiful. This one had large windows overlooking a swimming pool. Jacob had never been this close to a swimming pool before. Sit down, Amanda said, and this time her voice was warm again. Relax.

You are safe here. Jacob sat on the edge of the sofa, still not comfortable. How did you spend the money I gave you last time? Amanda asked. Jacob looked down at his hands. I I paid Helens fees, but the rest. I am not proud to say this, Ma. Amanda, I spent it foolishly. My friends and I, we celebrated.

 I thought I had made it. I am sorry. He expected her to be angry to tell him he was irresponsible to send him away. But instead, Amanda smiled. At least you are honest, she said. Most people would have lied. She reached for her handbag and pulled out an envelope. This is 1 million naira. Use it wisely this time. Pay your daughter’s fees for the whole year. Take care of your family.

 And Jacob. Yes, ma. Amanda, if you need help learning how to manage money, I can teach you. You do not have to struggle alone. Jacob’s hands shook as he collected the envelope. 1 million naira. He had never seen that much money in his life. Thank you, he whispered. I do not know how to repay you. You do not have to repay me, Amanda said.

 And there was something in her eyes that Jacob could not understand. Something that looked almost like loneliness. Just be a good father to your daughter. That is enough. Jacob went home that day feeling like he was floating. But when he told Mariam about the money, she did not celebrate. She just looked at him with sad eyes and said, “Jacob, this woman is buying you. And when she is done, she will own you.

” But Jacob did not listen. How could he? Amanda was helping him when nobody else would. She was kind, she was generous, and she seemed to genuinely care about his family. Over the next few weeks, Amanda started calling him.

 At first, it was just to check if he was okay, if Helen was back in school, if Mariam needed anything. But then the calls became longer, more frequent. She would call him during work, and Jacob would step away from his tools to talk to her. She would call him in the evening, and they would talk until late at night about everything and nothing. Mariam noticed. Of course, she noticed.

 Wives always notice. You are always on that phone now, she said one evening, always smiling and laughing. Is it her? She is just a friend, Mariam. Friends do not call each other everyday like this. Jacob, you are playing with fire. But Jacob could not stop. Amanda made him feel seen, valued, like he was more than just a poor mechanic.

 She told him about her life, about her failed marriages, about how her husbands left her because she could not give them children. She told him about the loneliness of being rich but empty inside. And Jacob told her things he had never told anyone. His fears, his dreams, his frustrations.

 With Amanda, he did not have to pretend to be strong. One night, Amanda called him with a request. Jacob, can we meet? Not at my house. Somewhere private. I need to talk to you about something important. Jacob’s heart started racing. Where? There is a hotel in Victoria Island. I will book a room. We can talk there without interruptions. Jacob knew what Mariam would say if she found out, but he agreed anyway.

 He told himself it was just a meeting, nothing more. They were friends, and friends met to talk. The next evening, he dressed in his best clothes. Miam saw him and her face went dark. Where are you going, dressed like this? I have a meeting. A meeting? Mariams voice was rising now. At this time, dressed like you are going to see a woman. Jacob, do you think I am a fool? Mariam, please.

 You are cheating on me, she said. And tears started rolling down her face. You are cheating on me with that rich woman. After everything we have been through together, this is how you repay me. I am not cheating, Jacob said. But even he could hear how weak it sounded. We are just friends. Liar. Marryiam screamed. You are a liar and a cheat.

 Go, go to your rich woman, but when she is done using you, do not come back to me. Jacob left the house with Mariam’s words ringing in his ears, but he went anyway. The hotel was the kind of place Jacob had only seen on TV. The lobby alone looked more expensive than his entire workshop. Amanda was waiting for him in the reception area, dressed simply but still looking like she belonged there.

“You came?” she said, smiling. “You asked me to.” They went up to the room she had booked. It was huge with a king-sized bed, a sitting area, and a view of the Lagos skyline. Jacob stood by the window, not knowing what to do or say. Jacob, Amanda said softly, coming to stand beside him.

 I need to tell you something, and I need you to listen without judging me. Okay? I am 65 years old. I have been married twice. Both times, my husbands left me because I could not give them children. The doctors say I am barren. I have accepted it. I have made peace with it. She paused and Jacob saw tears in her eyes.

 But that does not mean I stopped wanting to be loved, to be held, to feel like a woman and not just a walking bank account. Jacob turned to face her. Amanda, I know you are married. I know you have a family, but Jacob, I have feelings for you. Real feelings. And I think I think you feel something for me, too. She was right. God help him. She was right.

 Somewhere between the phone calls and the conversations and the way she looked at him like he mattered, Jacob had fallen for this woman who was old enough to be his mother. They stood there looking at each other and then they closed the distance between them. That night in that hotel room with Lagos glittering below them, a poor mechanic and a billionaire found something they had both been searching for.

 For Amanda, it was the feeling of being wanted for who she was, not what she had. For Jacob, it was the illusion of escape from the poverty that had choked him his entire life. They held each other until morning came. When Amanda finally drove home the next morning around 9:00, her sister Amarka was waiting for her in the living room, arms crossed, face full of fury.

 “So, you did not come home last night?” Amarka said. “Do not tell me. Let me guess.” “That dirty mechanic.” Amanda did not answer. She just walked past her sister. But Amarka was not done. You are 65 years old, Amanda. 65. and you are running around with a boy young enough to be your son.

 Have you no shame? Amanda stopped and turned around slowly. Shame, she repeated. You want to talk to me about shame? You who drove your own husband away with your wickedness. You who now lives in my house because you have nowhere else to go. Do not talk to me about shame. Amarka. But as Amanda climbed the stairs to her bedroom, she could not shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, she had made a terrible mistake. Amanda and Amaka had always been close.

 Twin sisters born minutes apart, but their lives had taken very different paths. Amanda built an empire from nothing, worked day and night, made decisions that turned her into one of the richest women in Lagos. Amarka Amaka married early, had two sons, and spent money like it grew on trees. She never built anything of her own. Never had to.

Amanda always took care of her, and Amanda never complained. That was the thing about her. She loved her sister. Even when Amarka’s husband finally got tired of her sharp tongue and bitter attitude and walked away. Even when Amarka moved into her house with Emma and Chisum, treating the place like it was hers.

 Even when Amarka made decisions about Amanda’s life, telling her what to do, who to see, how to live. Because Amanda was barren, people thought she needed guidance. They thought because she could not have children, she was somehow incomplete, somehow broken. and Amarka who had two sons felt like she had the right to control her sister’s life.

 But Jacob changed everything. After that night at the hotel, Amanda and Jacob could not stay away from each other. They met in secret in different hotels across Lagos, always careful, always hiding. Every time they were together, the world outside disappeared. The age difference did not matter.

 The fact that he was married did not matter. In those moments, they were just two people who had found something real in the middle of chaos. But Amaka was watching. She was always watching. “You are still seeing that mechanic,” Amarka said one morning, blocking Amanda’s path as she tried to leave the house.

 “That is none of your business,” Amanda replied, trying to move past her. “None of my business,” Amarka’s voice rose. “You are my sister, my twin, and you are embarrassing yourself with a married man young enough to be your son. I am 65 years old. Amaka, I think I can decide who I want to spend time with. Spend time with a marker laughed bitterly.

 Is that what we are calling it now? Amanda, what do you think people will say when they find out a billionaire like you running around with a poor mechanic? They will laugh at you. They will say you have lost your mind. Amanda’s face hardened. Let them talk. I have spent my entire life worrying about what people think. I am tired. A marker.

 I am tired of being alone. I am tired of being told I am not complete because I do not have children. Jacob makes me happy. That is all that matters. Happy. Amarka spat the word out like it was poison. He is using you, Amanda. Cannot you see? He wants your money.

 Once he has taken everything, he will leave you just like your husbands did. Amanda walked away without responding. But Amarka’s words stayed with her, not because she believed them, but because she knew her sister would never stop interfering. Meanwhile, Jacob’s life was falling apart at home. Mariam had noticed the money. Of course, she had. Suddenly, Jacob could pay bills on time, could buy food without counting every naira, could even afford new clothes for Helen.

 And Mariam knew exactly where it was coming from. “So, your rich woman is taking care of you now,” Mariam said one evening, her voice cold and flat. She is helping us, Jacob replied. Is that not what you wanted for Helen to go to school? For us to eat proper food? I wanted my husband to be a man, not somebody’s pet. The fighting became constant.

 Every day, Mariam found new ways to remind Jacob that he was living off another woman’s money. She told him he had no shame, no dignity, that he had sold himself for comfort. Finally, Mariam did what hurt Jacob the most. She called a family meeting. Jacob’s parents, his uncles, his brothers, Mariams family, everyone gathered in his father’s small sitting room.

 Jacob stood in the middle like a criminal on trial while Mariam laid out his sins for everyone to hear. He is having an affair with a rich woman, Mariam announced. A woman old enough to be his mother. He brings her money home and expects me to keep quiet about it. Jacob’s mother gasped. His father’s face went dark with anger. Jacob, is this true? His father asked.

 It is not that simple. Jacob tried to explain. She is my friend. She is helping us because we were suffering. Because I could not provide for my family the way I should. So you sell yourself, his uncle said. You become a kept man. I am not selling myself. She cares about me and I care about her. Yes, she has money, but that is not why.

 What else does Mariam want? Jacob’s voice was rising now, frustration breaking through. I am finally providing. Helen is in school. We have food. We can pay rent. Is that not enough? It is not your money. Marryiam screamed. You are not providing. She is. Do you not see the difference? Jacob felt all the anger, all the shame, all the frustration of his entire life rising up inside him.

 You always made me feel like I was nothing, like I was not enough. Every day you reminded me that I was poor, that I could not take care of you properly. and now that things are better, you still find something to complain about. The room went silent. Then Mariam stood up, walked over to Jacob, and slapped him hard across the face.

 The sound echoed in the small room. Jacob’s cheek burned, but not as much as his pride. “You are shameless,” Mariam said quietly, tears streaming down her face. “Plet completely shameless.” Jacob looked around at all the faces staring at him, judging him, and he could not take it anymore. You people see what I am talking about.

 This is what I live with everyday. He walked out of that house and did not look back. While Jacob’s world was crumbling, something strange was happening to Amanda. She woke up one morning feeling dizzy. The room spun around her and she had to grip the edge of the bed to steady herself.

 Then came the nausea, strong and sudden, sending her running to the bathroom. Amarka heard her vomiting and came to check. “Are you okay?” “I do not know,” Amanda said, wiping her mouth. I have been feeling strange for days now. Over the next week, it got worse. The dizziness, the vomiting, the tiredness that made her want to sleep all day. At first, Amanda thought it was just stress.

 But Amarka, who had been pregnant twice, recognized the signs. Amanda Amarka said one morning, her voice shaking with something that sounded like fear. When last did you see your period? Amanda tried to remember. With everything happening with Jacob, she had not been paying attention. I I am not sure. Maybe 2 months. 2 months. Amarka’s eyes went wide.

 Amanda, you need to go to the hospital now. I am 65 years old. Amarka, it is probably just menopause or go to the hospital. Amarka’s voice was sharp now, almost panicked. Please. Amanda did not understand why her sister looked so scared, but she agreed. She told her driver to take her to the hospital to one of the best doctors in Lagos and she requested a full checkup.

 The doctor, an older woman with kind eyes, ran several tests, blood work, scans, everything. When she came back with the results, her face was a mixture of shock and wonder. Mrs. Okoro, the doctor said slowly. I do not know how to tell you this, but you are pregnant. Amanda laughed. Actually laughed. Doctor, that is impossible. I am barren. I have been told by multiple doctors that I cannot have children and yet here we are.

 The doctor showed her the test results, the ultrasound images. You are about 8 weeks pregnant. Perfectly healthy pregnancy so far. Amanda stopped laughing. Her hands started shaking. How? How is this possible? The doctor explained using words like hormones and stress levels and spontaneous ovulation. Apparently, Amanda’s body had not been completely barren, just not ovulating.

 And now, for reasons the doctor could not fully explain, her body had started working again. “It is rare,” the doctor said, “but it happens. Sometimes after menopause begins, the body can have one last ovulation cycle. Sometimes extreme emotional changes can trigger it.” “The human body is full of surprises.” Amanda sat in that doctor’s office, staring at the ultrasound image, and she felt everything at once.

 joy, terror, disbelief, hope. At 65 years old, after two failed marriages, after a lifetime of being told she was incomplete, she was going to be a mother. She called Jacob immediately. Amanda, I cannot talk right now, Jacob said when he picked up. He sounded stressed, tired. Jacob, I am pregnant. Silence. Long, heavy silence. What did you say? I am pregnant.

 8 weeks. The doctor confirmed it today. More silence. Then Jacob’s voice small and scared. That is That is not possible. You said you were barren. I was. I do not know how, but it happened. Jacob, we are going to have a baby. Jacob felt his whole world tilt sideways. A baby with Amanda. A 65year-old billionaire was carrying his child while his wife Mariam was at home, probably still angry from the family meeting. Probably planning to leave him. I I need time to think, Jacob said.

 Time to think. Amanda’s voice cracked. Jacob, this is our child. I know. I just This is too much. Everything is falling apart with Mariam. If she finds out about this, I will lose everything. You will lose everything, Amanda repeated. And now her voice was cold. What about me, Jacob? I am 65 years old and pregnant.

 Do you think that is easy? But Jacob was too scared to think straight, too overwhelmed. He mumbled something about calling her back and ended the call. Then he stopped answering her calls completely. Amanda sat in her room that night, one hand on her stomach, tears running down her face. She was pregnant.

 Finally pregnant, and the man she loved was running away. Downstairs, Amarka paced back and forth in the living room. When Amanda had come home and told her the news, Amarka had forced a smile, had hugged her sister, had said all the right things. But inside, Amarka was terrified.

 For years, she had lived comfortably in Amanda’s house, spending Amanda’s money, making decisions for her sister. And why? Because Amanda had no children. Because Amanda needed family around her. Because Amarka’s sons, Emma and Chisum, were the closest thing Amanda had to s. But now there would be a baby, Amanda’s baby, a real heir. Everything would change. Amarka looked up at the ceiling toward Amanda’s room and for the first time in her life, she felt something dark and ugly growing inside her. Jealousy. She tried to push it away. Tried to be happy for her twin sister. But the feeling would not leave.

Because Amarka knew the truth, even if she would not say it out loud. If Amanda had a child, Amarka would no longer be necessary, and that scared her more than anything. Fear can make people do terrible things. Things they never thought they were capable of. Things that cross lines you cannot come back from. Amarka could not sleep.

 Night after night, she lay in her comfortable bed in Amanda’s house, staring at the ceiling, thinking about that baby. Amanda’s baby. The baby that would change everything. She tried to reason with herself. Amanda was her twin sister. They shared the same blood, the same face, the same first breath when they came into this world.

 How could she even think about hurting her? But then she would remember. Remember the shopping trips funded by Amanda’s money? The school fees for Emma and Chisum that Amanda paid without question. The expensive lifestyle she had become used to. All of it depended on one thing. Amanda having no one else.

 No heir, no child, no one closer to her than Amarka and her sons. But now there would be a baby. Amarka got out of bed and started pacing. She told herself she was just being paranoid. Amanda would never cut her off. They were twins. But deep down, Amarka knew the truth. Blood was thick, but a mother’s love for her child was thicker. She had to do something.

 Not to hurt Amanda, she told herself. Just to protect her own future, just to make sure things stayed the way they were. The idea came to her slowly, like poison dripping into her mind. She had a friend, a woman who sold herbs and traditional medicines in the market.

 People whispered that she knew things, dangerous things, things that could end pregnancies quietly without anyone knowing. A marker told herself she was just going to ask, just going to find out what was possible. Nothing more. But 2 days later, she came back from the market with a small bottle hidden in her bag. The woman had warned her just a little bit in hot liquid and nature would take its course.

 People would think it was a miscarriage. At 6:5, such things were expected. That morning, Amarka woke up early. Her hands were shaking as she prepared Amanda’s usual morning tea. She stood in the kitchen staring at that small bottle, her heart pounding so loud she thought the whole house could hear it. This was wrong.

 She knew it was wrong, but she unscrewed the cap anyway. Just as she was about to pour it into the tea, she heard footsteps. She quickly hid the bottle and stirred the tea, trying to look normal. Amanda walked into the kitchen already dressed for work. Good morning, Amaka. Morning. Amarka’s voice came out strange. Too high. I made your tea. Oh, thank you.

 Amanda reached for the cup and Amaka’s heart nearly stopped. But then Amanda paused. Actually, you know what? I will just have tea at the office. I am running late for a meeting. She grabbed her handbag and left, leaving the poisoned tea sitting on the counter. Amarka stared at that cup for a long time.

 Then she poured it down the sink and went to her room, her whole body trembling. That was too close. Too close. She told herself to stop, to let it go, to accept what was happening. But the fear would not leave her alone. It whispered to her constantly, “You are going to lose everything. Do something. Do it now.” Then she thought of Jacob. Jacob, the poor mechanic who had run away when Amanda told him about the pregnancy.

 Jacob, who clearly did not want this baby either. Jacob, who was probably just after Amanda’s money anyway, just like Amarka herself. Maybe he would help. Maybe he could be convinced. Amarka called him. Jacob was surprised to hear from her considering how much she had insulted him before. Jacob, I need to talk to you about something important. Amarka said, “There is a business opportunity, a contract.

 I can pay you well.” Jacob was suspicious, but 20 million naira was 20 million naira. He agreed to meet her at a restaurant away from Amanda’s house. They sat across from each other. Amarka ordering expensive food she barely touched. Jacob looking uncomfortable in his mechanic clothes among all the rich people.

 “So, what is this contract?” Jacob asked. Amarka leaned forward, lowering her voice. First, let me ask you something. Are you happy that Amanda is pregnant? Jacob’s face tightened. That is none of your business. It is a simple question, Jacob. Are you happy? He looked away. No, I am not happy. My marriage is destroyed because of this.

My wife will never forgive me. What if the pregnancy could just go away? Am said carefully. What if things could go back to the way they were before? Jacob’s eyes snapped to hers. What are you saying? Amaka pulled out the small bottle from her bag. Just a little bit in her tea. That is all.

 She will never know. People will think it was natural. At her age, these things happen. You want me to kill your sister’s baby? Jacob’s voice was rising. Are you insane? Shush. Amarka looked around nervously. It is not like that. I am trying to protect her. She is 65 years old, Jacob. Pregnancy at that age is dangerous.

 What if she dies giving birth? I am doing this for her own good. You are doing this because you are scared you will lose her money, Jacob said. And Amarka’s face went red because he had said the truth out loud. 20 million naira, Amaka said quickly. I will give you 20 million. You can take your wife and daughter and start over somewhere else.

 Somewhere far from here, far from Lagos, far from all this mess. Ibard maybe, or a Bua. You can open a proper mechanic shop. Give your daughter a good life. All you have to do is put this in Amanda’s tea just once. That is all. Jacob stared at that bottle like it was a snake.

 Part of him, the part that was scared and desperate and tired of everything falling apart, wanted to take it. Wanted to make this all go away. But he thought about Amanda, about how she had looked when she told him about the baby. Scared, but also happy, like she had been given a miracle after all those years of pain. Give me the bottle, Jacob said.

 Amarka smiled and slid it across the table along with a bag containing the money. I knew you would understand. But Jacob did not understand. Not in the way thought. That night, Jacob went home to marry him. They had not been speaking much since the family meeting.

 But he sat her down and told her everything about Amanda, about the pregnancy, about a marker’s evil plan. We need to leave Lagos, Jacob said. Tonight pack everything we can carry. We are going to a bardarden. With whose money? Mariam asked. Jacob showed her the 20 million naira. I took a marker’s money. But I am not doing what she asked. I already called Amanda and told her everything.

 For the first time in months, Mariam looked at her husband with something other than anger. Maybe it was respect. Maybe it was just relief that he had finally done the right thing. You are a fool, Jacob, Mariam said. But she was smiling. But you are my fool. They packed that night, took Helen from her bed, and disappeared before morning came. Amanda listened to Jacob’s phone call with tears streaming down her face.

He apologized, said he was sorry for running away, sorry for being weak, sorry for everything, but he could not stay. His family needed him. She understood. But Amarka, her own twin sister, had tried to kill her child. Amanda did not confront her immediately. She was too smart for that.

 She pretended everything was normal, acted like Jacob had just run away with a marker’s money and not told her anything. Amarka was furious about the money. That useless boy. I knew he was a thief. 20 million naira. You gave him 20 million naira? Amanda asked, pretending to be shocked. For what? It It was a business deal. Never mind. He played me. Days passed. Amanda watched her sister carefully, seeing her for the first time, really seeing her.

 The bitterness, the greed, the fear hiding behind those familiar eyes. One morning, Amaka made tea again. Amanda saw her in the kitchen, saw her hesitate, saw her reach for something in her pocket. “Is that for me?” Amanda asked, walking in. Amarka jumped. “Yes, your morning tea. How thoughtful.” Amanda picked up the cup, smelled it.

 “You know what? Why do you not taste it first? Make sure it is sweet enough. Amarka’s face went pale. Why would I taste your tea? Because I am asking you to. Is there a problem? Amanda, this is ridiculous. I made it for you. Then it should be fine for you to taste it. No. Amanda’s voice was cold now. Different. Drink it. A marker. Show me there is nothing wrong with it.

 I will not. You are acting crazy. Am I? Amanda set the cup down slowly. or am I acting like a woman who just found out her own sister tried to poison her baby. The silence that filled that kitchen was the loudest sound in the world. Amarka’s mouth opened, but no words came out. Then she tried to lie.

 I do not know what you are talking about. Jacob told me everything. Amanda said quietly. The bottle, the money, the plan, everything. A marker. My own twin sister wanted to kill my child. A marker’s face crumpled. You do not understand. I was scared. I did not know what else to do. You were scared of losing my money. You mean it is not just that. We are family.

 What will happen to me and my boys if you have a child? Where will we go? That is not my problem anymore, Amanda said, and her voice was like ice. Pack your things. You and Emma and Chisum. I want you out of my house by tonight. Amanda, please. I am your sister, your twin. We came into this world together and you tried to take my child out of this world. Get out, Amara.

 Get out before I call the police. Amarka fell to her knees, begging, crying, promising it would never happen again. But Amanda just walked away. That night, Amanda stood in her bedroom window and watched as Amaka and her sons loaded their belongings into a taxi. Emma and Chisum looked confused, scared. Amarka looked broken.

 Part of Amanda wanted to run down there to tell them to stay, to forgive her sister because that is what family does. But she placed her hand on her stomach, felt the small life growing there, and she knew she had made the right choice. Some betrayals are too deep to forgive. That night, Amanda slept alone in her big house for the first time in years. No amarka downstairs, no nephews running around, just her and the baby. She slept better than she had in months.

 The next morning, she woke up and looked at herself in the mirror. 65 years old, pregnant, alone, betrayed by her own sister. But somehow, despite everything, Amanda smiled. Because for the first time in her life, she was exactly where she was meant to be, free. If you enjoyed this story, please like and subscribe to the channel. Stay tuned for the next video to find out what happens next in Amanda’s journey.

 Will she raise her child alone? Will Jacob ever return? And what will Amaka do now that she has lost everything?