C9 The Mansion Again

I did not get into his Bentley.

Not willingly.

He carried my son, my Leo, my five-year-old secret, to his car like Leo belonged to him. And in a way, he did. Those grey eyes, that stubborn chin — I had been lying to myself for five years that Leo was only mine. But blood doesn't lie.

"Put him down, Alexander!" I ran after them into the parking lot, my old bag bouncing against my hip. People were still staring from the lobby. Phones were still recording. By tomorrow, all of Nairobi would know. "The Billionaire's Secret Son Exposed At School!"

Alexander didn't put him down. He opened the back door of his Bentley — the same Bentley he had when we were married — and gently placed Leo inside. He buckled the seatbelt himself, his large hands so careful with the tiny buckle.

"Whoa," Leo whispered, his eyes wide at the leather interior, the TV screen, the cold air-con. "Mama, this car is like a house!"

"Leo, come out," I said, reaching for him. "We are not going with him. Come to Mama."

Leo looked at me, then at Alexander. He was confused. My brave little boy who never cried at injections was about to cry now.

Alexander stood up and finally looked at me. The sun was harsh in the Nairobi parking lot. His sunglasses hid his eyes, but his jaw was tight.

"If you don't get in, Sarah, I will leave with him," he said quietly, so quietly that only I could hear, but it was more threatening than any shout. "And I will drive straight to my lawyer's office and file an emergency custody order. I have his birth certificate from the school file you submitted — no father listed. I have money. I have power. You have... what? A rented single room in Eastlands and $12 in your M-Pesa?"

He knew. He had already checked. In the five minutes we were in the lobby, his assistant had already pulled my entire life.

"You wouldn't," I whispered, tears burning my eyes.

"Try me," he said. "You kept my son from me for five years, Sarah. Five years I could have been his father. Five birthdays, five Christmases, five times he asked where his dad was and you told him I was dead. You think I will let you walk away again?"

He was right. And I hated that he was right.

I had thought I was protecting Leo. Protecting him from a man who threw divorce papers at his mother. From a family that would never accept a contract wife's son. But was I protecting Leo, or was I punishing Alexander?

"Mama?" Leo called from inside the car. "Are you coming? I'm scared."

That broke me.

I got into the Bentley. The door closed with a soft, expensive thud that sealed my fate.

The drive from Braeburn School to Alexander's mansion in Runda took 40 minutes, but it felt like 40 years. Leo was in the middle, between me and Alexander, looking out the window at Nairobi flying by. He kept stealing glances at Alexander.

"You really have eyes like me," Leo finally said, brave.

Alexander, who had been staring straight ahead, his hands clenched on his knees, slowly turned. He took off his sunglasses. His grey eyes — Leo's grey eyes — were red.

"Yes," Alexander said, his voice rough. "Because you are my son, Leo. I think... I think you are my son."

Leo frowned. "But Mama said my dad is in heaven."

Alexander looked at me, pain and anger flashing. "Your Mama and I... we have a lot to talk about. But I am not in heaven, Leo. I have been here, in Nairobi, the whole time. I just... didn't know about you."

Leo processed this in that serious way five-year-olds do. "Did you not want me? Is that why Mama didn't tell you?"

No child should ever have to ask that.

"No!" Alexander and I shouted at the same time.

Alexander reached out, hesitated, then gently placed his hand on Leo's head. Leo didn't flinch. "I have always wanted a son, Leo. Always. If I had known about you, I would have moved the earth to find you. I would have never let you and your Mama suffer."

Leo leaned into his hand, just a little. My son, who was always so independent, was starving for a father.

And I was sitting next to them, watching the two loves of my life find each other, and I felt like the outsider.

The mansion gates opened. The same gates I had left five years ago with one suitcase, vowing never to return.

Nothing had changed. The roses I had planted were still there, now wild and overgrown. The fountain I loved was still running. The guards still bowed.

But everything had changed. Because last time I entered as Mrs. Knight, a contract wife. This time I entered as the woman who stole the heir.

The head housekeeper, Mama Njeri, was waiting at the door. She was old now, greyer, but when she saw me, her eyes filled with tears.

"Mrs. Knight!" she cried, running down the steps, ignoring Alexander, ignoring Leo, and hugging me hard. "My child! You came back! You came back!"

I started crying again in her arms. She was the only mother I had in that house.

Alexander carried Leo out of the car. "Mama Njeri, this is Leo. Leo, this is Mama Njeri, she raised me."

Mama Njeri looked at Leo and gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. "Jesus! He is... he is you, Mr. Alexander! He is you when you were five!"

"I know," Alexander said quietly. "Prepare the blue room. And call Dr. Patel. Now."

Dr. Patel. The family doctor. DNA test.

My blood ran cold. "Alexander, no! You don't need a test! Look at him! He is yours! Don't—"

"I need a test, Sarah," he cut me off, his voice hard again. "Because I need it to be legal. I need it to be on paper that he is a Knight. That no one can take him from me. Or from you."

He said "or from you" like an afterthought, but I heard it.

An hour later, we were in his study — the same study where he had thrown divorce papers at me five years ago. Leo was in the blue room, which used to be the guest room, now quickly being filled with toys that his assistants had bought in a rush. Expensive toys, still in boxes.

Dr. Patel had taken swabs from both Alexander and Leo. Leo had cried a little, and Alexander had held his hand the whole time, whispering, "Brave boy, brave boy, just like your Mama."

Now it was just me and Alexander in the study.

He poured two whiskeys, even though I don't drink whiskey. He gave me one anyway. His hand was shaking.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked, not looking at me, looking out the window at the garden where Leo's future swing would be.

"I found out I was pregnant two weeks after you divorced me," I whispered, staring at the whiskey. "I came back to this house. I stood outside the gate for three hours in the rain. The guard told me you had left for London with Victoria."

He spun around. "Victoria? Victoria was in Switzerland then! She was—"

"She was back! She called me! She told me if I ever told you about the baby, she would make sure you lost Knight Holdings and my mother would die without treatment! And your father — your father called me too! He said a Knight heir cannot be born from a contract wife, that he would take the baby and give me 2M to disappear!"

Alexander's face went white. "My father... my father knew? He knew about Leo for five years and never told me?"

"He paid for my mother's hospital, Alexander! The 2M! It wasn't your money! It was his money! To make me disappear to Kisumu! He told me you never wanted a child, that you were relieved I was gone!"

Alexander threw his whiskey glass against the wall. It shattered, whiskey and glass everywhere, just like our marriage five years ago.

"MY FATHER KNEW ABOUT MY SON FOR FIVE YEARS!" he roared, a sound so broken, so animal, that Mama Njeri came running to the door.

"Mr. Alexander!"

"GET OUT!" he shouted at her. Then he collapsed into his chair, his head in his hands, shaking. "He let me think I was empty. He let me think... for five years I have been drinking, Sarah. Five years I have been trying to forget you by working, by women, by nothing working. And all along I had a son. I had a family. In Eastlands. Starving. While I was here in this empty house."

I knelt in front of him, like he had knelt in front of Leo. "Alexander..."

He looked up, tears running down his perfect, cold billionaire face. "Do you know what I did last week, Sarah? I went to your old apartment in Eldoret. The one you lived in before we married. I stood there for an hour like a fool. Because I missed you. After five years, I still missed my contract wife."

I touched his face. He didn't pull away.

"I missed you too," I whispered. "Every day. Every time Leo asked about his dad, I missed you."

He grabbed my hand and kissed it, hard, desperately. "Stay. Stay tonight. Stay with Leo. Let me be a father for one night. Please."

I wanted to. God, how I wanted to.

But then his phone rang. Loud, in the silent study.

He answered, his voice hoarse. "What?"

It was his lawyer. On speaker. I heard every word.

"Mr. Knight, we have a problem. Victoria Sinclair has just filed a paternity suit at Milimani Court. She claims SHE is pregnant with your child, three months. And she has filed an injunction to freeze all Knight assets until DNA is proven. If Leo is not proven as your heir by tomorrow 9 AM, the court will award interim heir status to her unborn child. She will own 50%."

Victoria was pregnant. With his child? Or lying again?

Alexander looked at me, horror in his eyes.

And from upstairs, we heard Leo scream.

A loud, terrified, blood-curdling scream of a five-year-old boy.

"MAMA! MAMA! THERE IS A LADY IN MY ROOM!"

Victoria was in the house. In Leo's room.