Perhaps you would never believe that poverty can push a man to make decisions that make his heart beat with both fear and hope. My name is Tignola. I was just a maintenance worker at Chevron’s headquarters in Lagos, a poor man among many others. It was hard for me to survive every day.

My uniform was always faded and my salary was barely enough to feed my little brother and myself. Poverty made each morning weigh heavier than the last, especially for an orphan like me. But everything changed that morning when Ellisabeth called me into her office.

Ellisabeth wasn’t just any boss. She was the billionaire CEO sent from Chevron’s U.S. headquarters, a foreigner who carried power like a perfume. People looked down in respect as they passed through the lobby. She was untouchable, until that day when her voice over the intercom said,
“Tignola, come to my office.”

I had never spoken directly to her. My heart pounded as I climbed the marble steps, each step resonating with my fear. Her office was another world: walls of glass, air conditioning so cold it felt like winter, and a view of the Atlantic that stretched to the horizon behind her.

She was there, tall, elegant, with her blonde hair pulled back and her blue eyes fixed on me.
“Sit down,” he said.

I sat down, my palms sweaty. Then he slid a dark blue file onto the desk. When I opened it, I almost dropped it. It was an application for a permanent residence visa for Canada.

“My name was already written there,” she said. Do you know what it means?
I swallowed hard. Yes, ma’am. It means a new life.

His lips cracked a slight smile.
“I can offer you that life, Tignola, a life in which you will lack nothing. A life where you won’t have to worry about rent anymore.

I looked up at her, trembling.
“Why?” Why me?

She leaned forward, her eyes narrowed like those of a predator ready to pounce.
“Because I need you to do something for me, something that only you can give me.

My chest rose rapidly.
“What?” I said, my voice low, each syllable loaded.

“I want you to get me pregnant.”

I was paralyzed. My ears were ringing.
“Madam, I… I don’t understand.

“Did you hear me?” He said, his shadow spreading out on the shiny ground. I don’t want a husband. I don’t want love complications. I just want a strong, discreet son, without scandals.

“He gives it to me and I will give him everything.

The air in the room thickened, my throat was dry. A billionaire offered me what I had prayed for for years: a way out, an opportunity, a future. But the price I demanded made my legs tremble.

Ellisabeth came so close that I could see the intense sparkle in her eyes.
“Think about it, Tignola, it’s not a joke. This offer will not be repeated.

That night, when I got home, my brother looked at me curious.
“Why are you trembling?” Did you get fired?

I forced a smile, but inside my chest was a battleground between fear and temptation. How could I explain that the most powerful woman in the company had asked me for something unimaginable? I stared at the cracked ceiling above my bed, echoing in my mind: “Get me drunk and I’ll give you everything.” I knew my life was on the edge of a precipice.

That night I didn’t sleep. His words haunted me like shadows in my dreams. How could a poor man assimilate something like this: I, who had always begged to survive, now a multimillionaire begged me for something that only I could give her.

At dawn, he coughed next to me. He was only 16 years old, but he was thin as paper due to hunger. The night before, the collector had knocked on the door, threatening to kick us out. All my problems pointed to Ellisabeth’s offer, as if it were the only way out.

But how could I sell my body like that? At work, I avoided his gaze. I swept aisles, repaired leaks, carried boxes, but his presence weighed on me like a weight. Then, just before closing, his secretary appeared:
“Mr. Tignola, the lady wants to see you.

My stomach knotted. I walked into her office and she was there, drinking red wine, her eyes fixed on me.
“He didn’t give me an answer yesterday,” he said.

“Madam, what you’re asking for isn’t simple, it’s too big,” I stammered.

“Great Tignola, what is greater than freedom?” What’s bigger than giving your brother a future? He said, tapping the file on his desk. Your visa is ready, signed. Only one decision is missing.

His confidence frightened me more than his request.
“But why me?” I said.

“Because it’s not just anyone. You are humble, clean. I’ve been watching you for months. You will not blackmail me, you will not go after my fortune. You will do what I need and disappear into the life I will offer you.

I opened my mouth, but no word came out. Then he leaned even closer, his eyes burning over mine.
“I don’t like to wait, Tignola. Tomorrow night you will give me your decision. After that, the door will close forever.

My legs were shaking as I left his office. On the bus back home, the street lights mixed with my tears. People were arguing about politics, shouting about the price of gas, cursing traffic jams. But in my mind it only resounded: “tomorrow night, the door closes forever”.

When we got home, Se was sitting in the dark, because we couldn’t afford to pay for electricity.
“Brother, I got a B,” he said, showing his bulletin. I came in second in my class this term. The professor said that if I work harder, I might get a scholarship.

I looked at him, the paper shaking in his little hands. My chest was burning. How long could this boy’s light survive in a world that only respected money? We were orphans.

That night I cried silently. He didn’t decide just for me. He decided for him, for us. In the morning, my mind was loaded, but the decision was made. When I returned to Ellisabeth’s office that day, my voice trembled, but I forced the words,
“Ma’am, I will.

His smile widened, slow and dangerous. He took the file and handed it to me.
“Good choice, Tignola, very good choice.

And so, my fate was sealed. But what she didn’t know was that by accepting, she had opened the door to something that even Ellisabeth had not foreseen.

The following days passed like a dream from which I could not wake up. One moment I was a poor clerk in faded uniform; the next, he got out of his private car to enter a mansion on Banana Island. His house looked like a palace, with white walls rising into the sky, chandeliers shining through huge windows, and guards on every corner.

Inside, Ellisabeth walked in front of me, her heels pounding on the marble like drums. He didn’t turn until we reached the living room, where he looked at me as if I were a bought object.
“You’re nervous,” he said dryly.

“Yes, ma’am, it is not something I have imagined,” I said with difficulty.

“That’s because you still think like a poor man. Stop thinking about surviving. Start thinking about inheritance.

She beckoned me to sit down. A servant instantly appeared with juice and biscuits, but my throat was too dry to swallow.
“There are rules, Tignola,” Ellisabeth said, crossing her legs. If we do this, it should be discreet. No one in the company, not even the guards, should find out. Do you understand?

“Yes, ma’am,” I murmured.

“Well, tomorrow the doctor will do the last tests. Then we’ll get started.

His tone was calm, but underneath was an urgency he didn’t understand. Why would a billionaire be so desperate? Why me?

That night he put me up in one of his guest rooms. I lay down on a king size bed, staring at the ceiling, listening to the hum of the air conditioner that never went out. He felt that he had been transported to another life.

However, my heart remained tied to the life I had left behind, where people coughed all night and mice scratched the wooden door.

The days turned into weeks. She called me after work, always behind closed doors. We spoke little, but in those brief moments I saw a human woman under the mask of the billionaire. Sometimes I would laugh unexpectedly, ask about my childhood, about things that no billionaire should be interested in. She was still powerful, authoritarian, but in those private moments, she saw a shadow of a woman who wanted something deeper than money.

However, under his calm smile, he noticed cracks growing. One night he returned from a council meeting, shivering as he poured wine.
“They think I can’t lead because I don’t have an heir,” he said, his voice curtly. The men at that table remind me every day that without children, my empire has no future. That’s why I need this, Tignola. That’s why I need you.

I nodded, my chest heavy. I wasn’t alone in despair. She was tormented.

One day, after a follow-up examination, her private doctor told her something. I watched her face as she listened, first calm, then tense, then pale. When he left, he sat quietly, staring at the ground.
“What did you say, ma’am?” I asked cautiously.

She looked up, her eyes open for something she had never seen in her.
“Fear is nothing,” he whispered, rising too quickly. It was just a routine, but that night, long after the house went quiet, I heard her crying in her room. The sound was muffled, but it pierced me like a knife.

The next morning he avoided my gaze, immersed in calls and professional meetings so as not to talk. But I knew something had changed. Just before I left for work, he stopped me at the door. His hand trembled slightly as he touched my arm.
“Tignola, if what the doctor suspects is true, this arrangement might not end as planned.

My breath was cut off.
“What do you mean?”

Her lips were compressed into a thin line. For the first time since I met her, Ellisabeth, the untouchable billionaire, the woman who bent men to her will, seemed uncertain. He whispered almost inaudibly,
“There is something in you, Tignola, something I had not foreseen.

And with those words, he turned around, leaving me paralyzed at the door, my heart pounding full of unanswered questions.