The Pond Was Just Beginning
“You worthless, ungrateful woman. After everything I’ve done for you…” Adabo’s voice thundered through the penthouse, rattling the windows and sending our wedding photo crashing to the floor. I stood frozen, seven months pregnant, as the man I’d loved for eight years towered over me, veins bulging across his forehead. The home that once felt like a palace now seemed a gilded prison.
“Ado, please,” I whispered, cradling my stomach protectively. “The neighbors will hear. Think of our reputation.”
“Reputation?” he snarled, grabbing my wrist. “You dare speak to me about reputation when you’ve been sneaking around, hiding things from me?” His eyes burned with suspicion. My heart raced. I’d received a bank notification that morning—one billion naira, my grandmother’s secret inheritance, transferred to a trust fund. She’d warned me: never tell Adabo. I lied, “I was just planning your birthday surprise.”
“Liar!” He yanked me toward the balcony, overlooking the artificial pond stocked with small sharks—a luxury attraction for the estate’s elite. “Eight years I’ve fed you, clothed you, given you everything. And this is how you repay me? With secrets?”
“Ado, I’m carrying your child!” I screamed, feet slipping on marble tiles. His eyes were vacant, possessed by a rage I’d never seen. “My child? Are you even sure it’s mine? Maybe that’s why you’re hiding your phone. Another man’s messages?”
The accusation stung. “How dare you? I’ve never been unfaithful.”
“Then prove it,” he growled, hand extended. “Give me your phone.”
If he saw the bank notification, he’d know about the fortune. My grandmother’s voice echoed in my mind: “That man loves your family name, not you.” I found unexpected strength. “No. You don’t own me, Adabo.”
His face twisted. “If I don’t own you, then you’re nothing to me.” Before I could react, his hands shoved my shoulders. I fell backward, a scream tearing from my throat, the rush of wind, horrified faces of neighbors, and then the cold shock of water.
I hit the pond, the chill biting through my skin. Panic seized me—not just for myself, but for my unborn child. Something brushed against my leg. The estate’s infamous sharks, circling their newest prey. My grandmother’s words rang in my ears: “You come from warriors, not victims.” With burning lungs, I kicked toward the surface. A sharp pain sliced across my ankle, but it propelled me upward. My head broke through the water; I gasped for air, choking and sputtering.
“Help!” I screamed. From the balconies, neighbors shouted. Security rushed to the pond’s edge, throwing a life preserver—it landed just out of reach. My strength was failing, my body trembling from shock and cold. The sharks circled, attracted by blood. I started to sink again, but suddenly a splash erupted beside me. Through blurred vision, I saw Emma, the retired Olympic swimmer from the east wing, cutting through the water.
“I’ve got you,” he said, wrapping a strong arm around me. “Don’t struggle. Let me do the work.” He pulled me to the edge, where strong hands dragged me onto the grass. Neighbors wrapped me in towels. Someone checked my pulse. “The baby,” I gasped, clutching my stomach. “Please, my baby…”
“Ambulance is two minutes out,” someone said. Through the crowd, I spotted Goi, my grandmother’s trusted lawyer, her expression grim. “I saw what he did,” she whispered, taking my hand. “Your grandmother warned me this might happen. The trust fund papers are safe. He will pay for this, Adunni. I promise.”
A stabbing pain shot through my abdomen. “Not now,” I pleaded. “Not my child…” Warm liquid pooled between my legs. “The baby…” Darkness claimed me.
Harsh fluorescent lights assaulted my eyes as I woke. The steady beep of machines surrounded me. “She’s awake.” Faces appeared: a doctor, a nurse, Goi. My hands flew to my stomach, finding it still swollen but different. Panic seized me. “My baby. Where is my baby?”
The doctor placed a gentle hand on my shoulder. “Mrs. Admi, you need to remain calm. Your daughter is in the NICU. She was delivered by emergency C-section. She’s premature, but fighting hard.”
Tears sprang to my eyes. “She’s alive. Can I see her?”
“Soon,” the doctor promised. “But first, we need to discuss your condition. Hypothermia, a shark bite, trauma from the fall. You’ve been unconscious for nearly thirty-six hours.”
The memories flooded back. Adabo’s rage, the accusation, the sensation of falling, the cold water, the sharks. “Where is my husband?” I asked.
Goi’s face hardened. “He’s been arrested, Adunni. Too many witnesses. He can’t deny what he did.” A police officer stepped forward. “Mrs. Admi, I’m Inspector Cunnel. When you’re stronger, we’ll need your statement. Your husband claims it was an accident.”
Rage gave me strength. “It was no accident. He pushed me. He pushed his pregnant wife into shark-infested water because I wouldn’t give him my phone.”
“That matches what witnesses reported,” the officer said. “The prosecutor believes we have a strong case for attempted murder.”
“Attempted murder of two people,” I corrected, gaining strength. “Me and my daughter.”
The doctor interjected gently. “Your daughter is very small, just over 1.5 kg. Her lungs aren’t fully developed. The next seventy-two hours are critical.”
Fresh tears rolled down my cheeks. “What are her chances?”
“We’re doing everything possible,” the doctor said. “She’s responding well so far, but she has a difficult journey ahead.”
After the doctor left, Goi moved closer. “Adunni, there’s something you should know. After you were brought here, Adabo tried to access your accounts. He went to three banks claiming power of attorney.”
“He thought I was going to die,” I whispered.
“Yes, but he failed. Your grandmother’s arrangements were thorough. No one can access that trust fund except you. And now your daughter, as your heir.”
The police officer added, “When we searched your apartment, we found falsified loan applications in your name. He’s been stealing your identity to secure massive debts.”
The betrayal cut deeper than I thought possible. “How much?”
“Over fifty million naira,” the officer replied. “We’ve frozen his accounts.”
A harsh laugh escaped me. “He pushed me for money he thought I was hiding, when all along he was the thief.”
Goi squeezed my hand. “Your grandmother always saw through him. That’s why she structured your inheritance the way she did. One billion naira, completely protected from him.”
The nurse returned. “Would you like to see your daughter?”
“Yes, please.” They wheeled me to the NICU, where I saw my daughter—so small, so fragile, connected to machines. With trembling fingers, I touched her hand. “Hello, my love,” I whispered. “I promise you this: I will never let anyone hurt you. We have each other now.”
Her tiny fingers curled around mine—a grip so determined it sent fresh tears cascading down my cheeks. “She’s a fighter,” the nurse said softly. “What will you name her?”
I thought of my grandmother. “Olayinka,” I said firmly. “It means ‘wealth surrounds me.’ Because despite all we’ve lost, we still have each other.”
As I sat beside my daughter, my phone buzzed—a message from an unknown number: “This isn’t over, Adunni. No one puts an Admi in jail and survives to tell the story. Next time you won’t be so lucky.” I showed the nurse, who called security. But as officers rushed to search the waiting rooms, I felt strangely calm. The weak, obedient Adunni died in that pond. The woman who emerged has nothing left to lose—and a billionaire fortune to fuel her revenge.
Three weeks passed in a blur of NICU visits, police interviews, and sleepless nights. I refused to return to the apartment. Instead, Goi arranged private security and a hospital suite. Olayinka gained weight steadily. The doctor told me, “Perhaps another two weeks, if this progress continues.”
“I’m filing divorce papers,” I said. “I want nothing of that man’s name touching me or my daughter.”
The threats continued. Adabo’s family, desperate for money, tried to claim grandparental rights, seeking custody of Olayinka. Their shipping empire was collapsing. They wanted my inheritance, not my child.
Can they win? I asked.
“Ordinarily, no,” Detective Amina said. “But the Admi family has powerful connections. It’s complicated.”
“What can I do?”
“Get ahead of them,” Inspector Cunnel advised. “The hearing is next week. You need a powerful lawyer and a counter-strategy.”
Goi brought in Chike, Nigeria’s best family court attorney. “Your grandmother didn’t just leave you money, Adunni. She left you power. The trust fund includes controlling interest in TransAfrica Shipping—the Admi’s chief competitor.”
So while they tried to get my money through my child, I held the power to destroy their company. My grandmother, always three steps ahead, had left me a weapon.
I planned our escape. When Olayinka was strong enough to leave the hospital, we’d disappear. Chike arranged emergency travel documents. My cousin Yatund in Ghana prepared a safe house. Dr. Kem expedited discharge paperwork. On the day of our escape, we disguised ourselves as medical staff, slipped out through a service elevator, and transferred to a laundry van, then a private car. Crossing the border was easier than I’d dared hope.
In Ghana, behind high walls, Olayinka thrived. Six months passed. She grew from a fragile preemie into a robust, curious baby. I reclaimed pieces of myself Adabo had tried to strip away.
Goi called. “It’s time. Tomorrow, TransAfrica Shipping will announce you as majority shareholder and acting chairperson. Your divorce is finalized. The custody petition is blocked. The Admi family is finished.”
Emma, the Olympic swimmer who’d saved me, reappeared—now as my security consultant. “Your grandmother hired me to watch over you. I’ve assembled a team for your return to Lagos.”
Three days later, I stood before cameras at a press conference. “My name is Adunni Oladil, and I am the chairperson of TransAfrica Shipping.” Mother Admi watched from the back, her face a mask of fury. The battle had begun.
At the Port Harcourt Shipping Alliance Gala, I confronted the Admi matriarch. She threatened me in front of witnesses. I remained composed. “Your son started this the moment he decided my life was worth less than my phone password. I’m simply finishing it.”
With Emma and Chike’s help, I exposed the Admi family’s financial crimes, secured their assets, and ensured justice for myself and my daughter.
The pond was just beginning. But this time, I was ready to swim.
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