Chuka was a billionaire, yet his heart was softer than gold. Despite his fame, wealth, and power, pride never ruled him. Known as one of Lagos’s richest men, Chuka valued family above all else. His world revolved around his beloved mother, Mama Chuka, and his seven-year-old triplet sons—Cheety, Chima, and Chisum—full of life and mischief.

After losing his first wife during childbirth, Chuka spent many lonely years raising his boys with his mother. Mama Chuka was his pillar—the woman who prayed for him every morning and kept the family together. When he finally met Linda, a young, beautiful woman with a gentle voice and a sweet smile, he thought God had given him another chance at love.

But Linda had two faces—one she showed Chuka, and another for the world.

One morning, sunlight filled the mansion. The triplets played happily in the living room while Mama Chuka watched them, dressed in her clean wrapper and blouse, her gray hair neatly tied with a scarf.

“My children,” she said softly, “don’t jump on the sofa. Your father will not be happy if you break anything.”

The boys giggled. “Yes, Grandma.”

Suddenly, the sharp click of heels cut through the room. Linda entered, eyes cold and sharp, wearing a tight, bright dress that glimmered under the chandelier. Her smile was fake—a mask of innocence.

“Mama, what is this again?” she snapped, folding her arms. “You’re sitting on the white chair again. How many times will I tell you this is not your kind of seat?”

Mama Chuka looked up quietly. “My daughter, I was only watching the children. My legs hurt, so I sat for a while.”

Linda laughed coldly. “Legs hurting, yet you have the strength to move from chair to chair in my husband’s house? You don’t even respect yourself.”

The triplets froze, glancing nervously between their grandmother and stepmother.

“Please don’t shout at Grandma,” little Cheety said gently.

Linda spun toward him. “And who asked you to speak? You think because your father is rich, you can talk to me like that?”

Chima ran and held his grandmother’s arm. “Grandma, let’s go to your room,” he whispered.

But Linda’s voice rose. “Don’t move. I’m not done talking. This is my house now. You live here because of me, and you will obey.”

Mama Chuka’s eyes filled with tears. “My daughter, nobody is fighting you. We all want peace.”

Linda hissed, pointing to a corner. “Go sit there. You’re not the madam here. I am.”

Silence fell. Even the triplets stayed frozen.

Then Mama Chuka rose slowly, her voice calm but heavy. “When you insult an old woman, remember one day you will walk in her shoes.”

Linda’s face twisted. “Don’t preach to me. If not for my husband’s money, you and these boys would be under a bridge.”

At that moment, little Chisum burst into tears. “Don’t talk to Grandma like that,” he cried.

Linda’s eyes flashed. “Keep quiet before I slap you.”

The housemaid, Ada, cleaning near the stairs, dropped her mop. Her eyes widened, but she stayed silent. She had already witnessed too much.

Every day since Chuka traveled for business, Linda found new ways to torment Mama Chuka and the boys—making them eat last, clean the compound, and sleep early, as if prisoners.

“Mama, please go to your room,” Ada whispered, trying to prevent more conflict.

Linda snapped toward her. “Did I ask for your opinion? Who do you think you are in this house?”

Ada lowered her head. “I’m sorry, Ma.”

“Good,” Linda said coldly. “Next time, stay out of what doesn’t concern you.”

She turned back to Mama Chuka, holding her grandsons close.

“Tell me, Mama,” Linda sneered. “When your son returns, will you tell him how I treat you, or will you lie like old women do?”

Mama Chuka inhaled deeply, her voice trembling but firm. “I will tell him the truth—that his mother lives here but is treated like a stranger.”

Linda’s smile vanished. “You dare talk back?”

She stepped forward, raising her hand.

The triplets screamed, “No, don’t touch Grandma!”

Linda stopped, breathing heavily, then pointed to the floor. “Fine. Since you like sitting here so much, clean it. Wash the tiles with your hands. I want them shining before I return.”

Mama blinked. “You want me to wash the floor?”

“Yes,” Linda snapped. “And make the children help. Let them learn respect.”

The old woman looked around helplessly. Her knees were weak, but she knelt and picked up the cleaning rag.

Cheety ran to her side. “Grandma, let me help.”

Linda’s voice boomed. “If any of you touch that rag, I’ll pour this dirty water on all of you.”

She pointed to a bucket of murky water from earlier cleaning.

The boys froze.

Mama Chuka began wiping the floor gently, her tears mixing with the water.

“God, you see everything,” she whispered.

Linda looked at her with disgust. “Yes, pray to your God. Maybe he’ll clean this house for you.”

She turned and strutted out, her heels clicking sharply.

When the door closed, the triplets rushed to their grandmother.

“Grandma, stop crying,” Cheety said softly, holding her hand. “Daddy will come home soon.”

“Yes,” Chisum added, wiping her tears. “When he comes, he’ll make her go away.”

Mama Chuka hugged them tightly. “I just want peace, my children. Your father must never know this pain.”

Upstairs, Ada watched silently behind a curtain, her eyes glistening. She knew the truth could not stay hidden forever.

That night, as Linda laughed on the phone with her friends, boasting about how easily she controlled her husband’s house, Mama Chuka knelt by her bed.

Her voice was faint but steady. “God, open my son’s eyes before it’s too late.”

Outside the window, the triplets whispered to one another.

“When daddy comes back,” Chima said softly, “we’ll tell him everything.”

They didn’t know that day was closer than anyone imagined.

The next morning, sunlight bathed the mansion, touching the windows with warmth. Birds chirped softly on the fence.

Inside, tension hung in the air.

The triplets tiptoed into their grandmother’s room.

“Grandma,” whispered Cheety, the eldest, “are you awake?”

Mama Chuka opened her eyes slowly, aching from the previous night’s scrubbing.

“Yes, my dear. Come here.”

Chima and Chisum climbed onto the bed, curling close to her wrapper.

Chima carried a cup of water from the kitchen. “We brought you water to drink.”

Mama Chuka smiled faintly. “Thank you, my son. You three are my strength.”

She drank a little, then looked at their tired faces.

“Did you sleep well?”

Chisum shook his head. “No. Stepmom shouted again. She told the cook to stop giving us milk because we’re spoiled.”

Mama Chuka sighed. She knew Linda would make life harder while Chuka was away.

“Don’t worry, my darlings,” she whispered. “Your father will come soon. Until then, we must keep peace in this house.”

Chima frowned. “But Grandma, why does she hate us?”

Mama’s eyes softened. “Because some hearts are like stones. No matter how much you give, they want more.”

Suddenly, the door swung open.

Linda appeared, bright red dress, holding a cup of coffee.

“So this is where all of you hide,” she snapped. “What a lazy bunch. Sitting here while the house is dirty.”

Mama Chuka turned slowly. “Good morning, my daughter.”

Linda laughed. “Don’t call me that. I’m not your village child. Keep that name for your market friends.”

The triplets watched silently.

She walked in, perfume filling the air.

“Didn’t I tell you to clean the living room again? Footprints on the tiles this morning. Do you know what that means?”

Nobody answered.

“It means someone didn’t clean well. So, old woman, today you’ll clean the whole house—from the front door to the kitchen. I want it shining before noon.”

Mama Chuka’s voice trembled. “Linda, my body is weak. I’ll tell Ada to mop everywhere.”

Linda narrowed her eyes. “Did I say Ada? I said you. Do it yourself. Maybe then you’ll remember who’s madam here.”

“Please, my daughter,” Mama Chuka pleaded softly. “I’ve done my best.”

Linda dropped her coffee with a loud thud. “Enough. Stop calling me your daughter. You don’t respect me, but you will learn.”

She returned with a bucket of dark, dirty water.

“You see this?” she said, raising it. “If I see dust when I return, I’ll pour it on you and your grandchildren.”

Chisum gasped. “You can’t do that.”

Linda turned to him sharply. “What did you say?”

Chisum’s lips trembled. “You can’t pour water on Grandma.”

Linda’s face darkened. She bent to his level.

“You think you’re brave, small boy? You’re just like your grandmother—rude and stubborn. One day, I’ll teach you both a lesson.”

Tears filled his eyes, but he didn’t move.

Chima held his brother’s hand tightly.

“Linda,” Mama Chuka said quietly, “you’re hurting them.”

“Good,” Linda said coldly. “Maybe they’ll finally learn who runs this house.”

She stormed out, slamming the door so the walls shook.

For a long moment, no one spoke.

The triplets held their grandmother.

Cheety whispered, “Grandma, we can clean it. Don’t worry.”

She smiled weakly. “No, my dear. I don’t want her to pour that water.”

They followed her to the living room.

The marble floor glimmered under sunlight, but Linda’s voice from upstairs still yelled at the staff.

Mama Chuka knelt, cleaning, while the children helped quietly, fear heavy in the air.

Ada, carrying a tray from the kitchen, froze.

“Mama, please stop,” she whispered. “You’re not strong enough.”

Mama shook her head. “If I stop, she’ll do worse.”

Ada looked at the triplets, hands shaking.

“This is too much. If only Oga knew.”

“Don’t say it,” Mama said. “Linda will fire you if she hears.”

“I don’t care,” Ada said, voice breaking. “She treats you like dirt. Every day worse. Yesterday she told the driver she wants your room switched with the boys’ quarters.”

Mama’s hands froze mid-wipe.

“She said that?”

“Yes,” Ada said. “She’s tired of sharing a roof with you.”

Mama closed her eyes, holding back tears.

“Let her talk. God is watching.”

“God may watch,” Ada muttered, “but he needs to hurry before something terrible happens.”

Footsteps thundered down the stairs. Linda returned, phone to her ear, laughing.

“No, babe. That old woman acts like she owns this house. If not for Chuka’s money, I’d never let her stay.”

She froze seeing them. Face hardened.

“Ada, why are you gossiping?”

Ada flinched. “I—I was helping Mama clean.”

Linda’s voice rose. “Did I ask? Go back to the kitchen.”

“Yes, Ma.”

Ada hurried away.

Linda turned to the triplets.

“And you three, what about that rag?”

“We didn’t,” Chima said softly. “Just watching Grandma.”

“Watch from your room,” she snapped. “Go.”

Mama nodded sadly. “Go, my darlings. Do as she says.”

Linda leaned against the wall, mocking. “You act so holy, praying every night, yet scrubbing floors like a servant. Does your God hear you?”

Mama Chuka trembled. “My God sees everything, even what you do when no one watches.”

Linda smirked. “Then tell him I said hi.”

She walked away, laughter echoing.

Mama sank slowly to the floor. “God, give me strength.”

Ada, by the sink, tears running, dialed a number.

“Mr. Okafor,” she said. “Please tell Oga what’s happening here.”

The driver’s calm voice replied. “Ada, don’t call yet. She’ll find out and throw you out. Be patient. God will expose her soon. Oga always says truth walks on two legs.”

Ada wiped her tears. “I can’t watch them suffer.”

“Hold on,” he said. “Justice comes when least expected.”

Ada saw the triplets at the kitchen door.

“Is Grandma okay?” Cheety asked.

“She’s trying,” Ada said. “Go stay with her, quietly.”

The boys ran back to the living room.

Mama Chuka still knelt, scrubbing.

Chima held a towel, helping.

“You’re sweating, Grandma,” he said.

Mama smiled weakly. “Thank you, my sunshine.”

Chisum crouched beside her.

“When daddy comes back, we’ll tell him everything,” he said firmly.

Mama stopped cleaning. “No, my dear. Your father has enough worries. If he hears, it will break his heart.”

“But it’s not fair,” Chisum said, tears in his eyes. “She shouts. She doesn’t love us or you. Only Daddy’s money.”

Mama placed her hand on his cheek. “You’re right, my son, but sometimes God lets bad people reveal themselves so the world sees who they are.”

Footsteps came again.

Linda’s voice rang out. “I hope the floor is shining.”

Mama stood quickly, hiding pain.

The triplets stepped back.

Linda inspected every corner, rubbing her finger along the tiles.

“At least now it looks clean. Maybe next time, do it without being told twice.”

Mama stayed silent.

Linda turned to her. “Why are you quiet?”

“No, thank you. I’m teaching you discipline, old woman. Be grateful.”

Mama bit her lip.

“If finished, I’ll cook lunch for the boys.”

“No need. They can eat bread and water today. Don’t waste food on ungrateful people.”

Chisum gasped. “But we’re hungry.”

“Then drink water,” Linda said coldly.

Tears filled Mama’s eyes.

“Linda, please. They are children.”

Linda raised her hand. “One more word and you’ll sleep outside tonight.”

Mama stepped back quietly.

The triplets froze, pale with fear.

Linda walked upstairs, satisfied.

The house fell silent.

The clock ticked slowly.

Soap scent lingered.

Mama sank onto a chair, exhausted.

The boys gathered around her.

“I can’t take this anymore,” Ada whispered.

“She’s worse every day. Maybe Mr. Okafor is right, but I fear something bad before Oga returns.”

Mama looked at her sadly. “He will come at the right time. God will bring him home.”

Chima looked up. “Grandma, when is Daddy coming back?”

“One more week,” she said softly. “Maybe sooner.”

The triplets brightened.

“If Daddy comes early, he’ll see everything,” Chima said excitedly.

Mama smiled faintly. “Maybe that’s God’s plan.”

They stayed silent, lost in thought.

Linda’s laughter drifted from upstairs, cold and sharp.

That night, the house grew quiet.

The triplets whispered in bed.

“I wish Daddy would come tomorrow,” Chisum said.

“Then she can’t hurt Grandma anymore.”

“He will,” Cheety said softly. “I just know it.”

Downstairs, Mama Chuka prayed, voice breaking the silence.

“God, protect my son, and when he returns, let him see the truth himself.”

Miles away, in a hotel, Chuka sat by the window, staring at a picture of his family on his phone.

Something felt wrong in his heart.

He whispered, “Maybe I should go back early.”

He didn’t know that decision would change everything.