Billionaire pretends to be sick to Test his ch**ting wife and family. Would they care?

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The Billionaire’s Test: Who Loved Chief Desmond Alive?

Chapter 1: Shadows Behind the Portrait

Chief Desmond Adakunlia stood in front of the grand family portrait that hung above the marble fireplace. In the painting, his wife Nikem smiled beside him, regal and elegant. His four children—Tunde, Bayo, Kemi, and Amara—stood proud, their eyes shining with the promise of legacy. But tonight, as the city lights of Lagos flickered outside his mansion, Desmond saw only questions in their painted faces.

He was seventy-three now. His hands shook when he signed papers. His knees ached when he climbed the stairs. Time, that patient enemy, was catching up with him. And with time came a bitter truth he could no longer ignore: his family saw him as a bank account, not a father or husband.

Tunde, his firstborn, spoke of the company more than he asked about his father’s health. Bayo, the second son, was always calculating, always watching what he would inherit. Kemi, his eldest daughter, only called when she needed money. And Nikem, his wife of fifty years, barely looked at him anymore. Only Amara, his youngest, still asked, “Daddy, how are you feeling today?” But even with her, could he be sure?

Desmond turned away from the portrait, his chest heavy—not from sickness, but from doubt. He needed to know the truth.

So, he made two calls. The first was to his lawyer, Chidi. “Come tomorrow morning, early. Tell no one.”
“Is everything all right, sir?” Chidi’s voice was cautious.
“Just come.”

The second call was to Dr. Emma, his childhood friend and personal doctor.
“Emma, I need your help with something strange.”
“Strange how?”
“You’ll see.”

Chapter 2: The Plan

The morning sun was already high when Chidi and Dr. Emma arrived at the mansion. The security guard opened the gate quickly. Both men had been coming to this house for decades. Chief Desmond was waiting for them in his study. He didn’t waste time with greetings.

“Sit down,” he said simply.

They sat. Chidi placed his briefcase on his lap. Emma looked worried.
“What’s going on, Desmond?” Emma asked. “You sounded serious on the phone.”

Desmond leaned forward, elbows on the desk. These two men were the only people he trusted more than his own blood.

“I want to pretend I’m dying,” he said.

The words hung in the air like smoke. Chidi blinked.
“Sir, what?”

“I want my family to think I have cancer,” Desmond continued, voice calm but firm. “I want them to believe I have six months left, maybe less.”

Emma took off his glasses and rubbed his face.
“Desmond, why would you do that?”

“Because I need to know the truth.” Desmond’s voice cracked just a little. “I need to know if anyone in this house loves me, or if they’re all just waiting for me to die so they can fight over what I leave behind.”

Chidi shifted in his seat.
“That’s a heavy thing to do.”

“I know,” Desmond said, looking down at his hands. “But I’ve been watching them, Chidi. The way Tunde talks about the company like it’s already his. The way Bayo asks about properties. The way Kemi only calls when she needs money. Even Nikem… she barely looks at me anymore.”

Emma leaned back and sighed deeply.
“And what if you find out the answer you’re afraid of? What if they fail your test?”

Desmond’s jaw tightened.
“Then at least I’ll know the truth before I actually die.”

There was silence. Outside, a bird sang. A car horn honked somewhere down the street. Life continued as normal. But inside this room, something dangerous was being born.

Finally, Chidi nodded.
“All right, I’ll help you. But we need to protect your money first.”

“How?”

“I’ll open a secret account,” Chidi explained. “I’ll move half of your assets—properties, cash, investments. That way, if anyone tries to sell things or steal from you, they won’t get everything. The account will be in my name, but it’s yours. No one will know.”

Desmond nodded.
“Do it.”

Chidi made a note in his book. Then Dr. Emma spoke.
“And I’ll tell them you have cancer. Pancreatic cancer, stage four. It’s aggressive, deadly, and fits the symptoms you’ll pretend to have—weight loss, weakness, pain.”

“How long will you say I have?” Desmond asked.

“Six months,” Emma said quietly. “Maybe less if they ask.”

Desmond closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them again, his decision was final.
“Then let’s begin.”

Chapter 3: The Sickness Begins

It started slowly. The next morning at breakfast, Chief Desmond coughed. It was soft at first, just a small clearing of his throat. Nikem looked up from her phone.

“Catching a cold?” she asked.

“Maybe,” Desmond said, waving his hand like it was nothing.

But the cough didn’t stop. By the second day, it was louder, deeper. It sounded like something was stuck in his chest. By the third day, Desmond stayed in bed longer than usual. He refused his morning tea. He didn’t go to his study.

Kemi became worried.
“Daddy, you need to see a doctor.”

“I’m fine,” he muttered weakly.

But by the fifth day, he wasn’t eating at all. Not even his favorite dish—pepper soup with goat meat so soft it melted on the tongue. The housemaid brought it to his room, but he only stared at it and shook his head.

That’s when Nikem panicked. She grabbed her phone and called the children.

“Your father is not well. Come home now.”

Chapter 4: The Family Gathers

They all arrived that Saturday.

Tunde came in his black Mercedes, wearing a designer suit even though it was the weekend. He walked into the house like he owned it, his cologne filling the air.

Bayo arrived quietly as always. He didn’t say much. He just observed everything with his sharp, calculating eyes.

Kemi came with her driver, her braids freshly done, nails painted gold. She was on her phone the entire time, typing and laughing at something.

Amara was the last to arrive. She didn’t come with a driver. She took a bus. And the moment she stepped into the house, she ran straight to her father’s room.

“Daddy,” she cried, pushing the door open.

Chief Desmond lay on his bed, looking weak and tired. His eyes were half closed. His breathing was slow.

Amara knelt beside the bed and took his hand.
“Daddy, what’s wrong? What happened?”

He opened his eyes just a little and smiled weakly.
“I’m just tired, my daughter.”

Tears filled her eyes.
“We’ll call the doctor. You’ll be fine. I promise.”

Downstairs, the rest of the family gathered in the sitting room. The space was large and grand—marble floors, tall ceilings, heavy curtains, paintings on every wall. It was the kind of room that screamed wealth.

Nikem sat on the sofa, her hands shaking slightly. Tunde stood by the window. Bayo leaned against the wall. Kemi scrolled through her phone, barely paying attention.

Then Dr. Emma arrived. He greeted them politely and went upstairs to examine Chief Desmond. Amara stayed in the room, refusing to leave. Emma checked his pulse, listened to his chest, looked into his eyes with a small flashlight. Then he stepped back and sighed.

“Let me speak with the family,” he said gently.

Amara’s heart dropped.
“Doctor, is he okay?”

Emma didn’t answer. He just walked downstairs.

The family gathered around him like moths to a flame.

“Well?” Nikem asked, her voice tight with fear. “What’s wrong with him?”

Dr. Emma looked at each of them slowly. Then he spoke.

“I’m very sorry to tell you this,” he began, his voice heavy. “Your father is very sick.”

Kemi finally looked up from her phone.
“Sick? How?”

Emma paused.
“He has cancer.”

The word dropped like a bomb.

Nikem gasped and covered her mouth. Tunde’s face went stiff. Bayo’s eyes flickered, but he said nothing. Kemi’s phone slipped from her hand and clattered onto the floor. Upstairs, Amara let out a loud, broken scream.

“No, no, no, no.” She ran to Emma and grabbed his arm. “Doctor, please tell me you’re joking. Please.”

Emma’s face was filled with sadness.
“I wish I was, my dear, but the tests don’t lie.”

“What kind of cancer?” Tunde asked, his voice sharp and businesslike.

“Pancreatic.”

“Stage four?” Nikem’s legs gave out. She sat down heavily on the sofa, her hands trembling.

“Stage four. That means—”

“It means it’s very advanced,” Emma said quietly.

Bayo finally spoke, his voice low.
“How long does he have?”

Emma looked at him.
“Six months, maybe less.”

Silence swallowed the room. Amara collapsed onto the floor, sobbing into her hands. Kemi stood frozen, her mouth open. Tunde turned back to the window, his fists clenched. Bayo stared at the floor, his jaw tight. And Nikem just sat there, staring at nothing.

Upstairs, lying in his bed, Chief Desmond heard everything. Every gasp, every cry, every silence. And in his chest, his heart broke just a little.

Now, he thought, let me see who you really are.

Chapter 5: The Mask Slips

The first week was beautiful. Everyone played their part perfectly. Nikem brought him tea every morning. She fluffed his pillows and opened the curtains to let in light.

“You need fresh air, darling,” she said sweetly.

Tunde visited every evening after work. He sat beside the bed and talked about the company, about clients, about deals.

“Don’t worry, Dad. I’ll handle everything. Just rest.”

Kemi came with flowers—fresh roses in a glass vase. She placed them on the bedside table and kissed his forehead.

“You’re going to be fine, Daddy. I’m praying for you.”

Bayo didn’t talk much, but he was there. He sat quietly in the corner of the room, reading the newspaper aloud so his father wouldn’t feel alone.

And Amara. She never left. She slept on a small mat on the floor beside his bed. She woke up every two hours to check if he needed water, if his blanket had slipped off, if he was in pain. She fed him with her own hands, spoonfuls of soft food, sips of warm tea. She wiped his forehead when he sweated. She held his hand when he coughed.

“I’m not going anywhere, Daddy,” she whispered one night, her voice thick with tears. “I’ll stay with you always.”

Chief Desmond, pretending to be too weak to respond, squeezed her hand gently. Inside, his heart ached. At least one of them is real, he thought.

But by the second week, things started to change.

Nikem stopped coming to the room.
“I can’t bear to see him like that,” she told Kemi one afternoon, fanning herself dramatically. “It breaks my heart too much.” But that same evening, Desmond heard her laughing loudly on the phone downstairs. She was making plans to go shopping with her friends.

Tunde’s visits became shorter and his questions became sharper.

“Dad,” he said one evening, sitting on the edge of the bed, “you should really let me take full control of the company now. You need to rest. You can’t be worrying about business.”

Chief Desmond, his voice weak, nodded slowly.
“All right, my son. Do what you think is best.”

Tunde’s eyes lit up. He tried to hide it, but Desmond saw it. Hunger.

Within three days, Tunde called a meeting at the company. He stood in front of the board of directors and announced, “My father is too ill to continue. From today, I’m in charge.”

Some people clapped, others looked uncomfortable. One man stood up—Mr. Adewale, who had worked with Chief Desmond for twenty-eight years. He was old now, his hair gray, his back slightly bent, but his voice was strong.

“With all respect, sir,” Mr. Adewale said carefully, “your father is still alive. Shouldn’t we wait for his word?”

Tunde’s face hardened.
“Are you questioning me in my father’s company?”

“I’m not questioning you. I’m just—”

“You’re fired.”

The room went silent. Mr. Adewale blinked.
“What?”

“You heard me,” Tunde said coldly. “Security, escort him out.”

Two guards stepped forward. Mr. Adewale looked around the room, hoping someone would speak up. No one did. He shook his head sadly and walked out.

By the end of the week, Tunde had fired four more senior staff—people who had been loyal to his father for decades. He replaced them with his friends, young men who wore expensive watches and knew nothing about running a business. Then he bought himself a brand new Range Rover—bright red. He parked it in front of the office like a trophy.

At home, he threw a party in one of the guest rooms. Music blasted until midnight. Wine flowed like water. Women in tight dresses laughed loudly.

Upstairs, Chief Desmond lay in bed listening to the noise. His son was celebrating while he was dying.

Chapter 6: The Betrayal

Kemi came by one afternoon, but this time she didn’t bring flowers. She stood near the door, not even stepping fully into the room.

“Daddy,” she said.

Desmond turned his head weakly.
“Yes, my daughter.”

“I need money.”

His heart sank.
“For what?”

“Wigs, clothes, you know, things.” She shrugged. “There’s money in your account.”

“It’s not enough.”

She folded her arms.
“When you’re, you know, gone, I’ll inherit, right? So, can I just get some now? Like an advance?”

Desmond stared at her, his own daughter standing there asking for her inheritance while he was still breathing. He turned his face to the wall.

“Leave, Kemi.”

She huffed and walked out. She didn’t even say goodbye.

But the worst was Bayo. Quiet, calculating Bayo. He didn’t ask for money. He didn’t throw parties. He just acted.

One morning, he went to the lawyer’s office—not Chidi, but a different one—and forged documents. He sold the Sunray Grand Hotel, the crown jewel of his father’s empire. The hotel Chief Desmond had built with his own sweat and dreams. Bayo sold it for cash, eighty-five million naira. He told no one, but Chidi found out. The lawyer made quiet phone calls. He sent trusted people to buy the hotel back under false names. The papers were signed. The deal was reversed. And the money? Chidi locked it away in the secret account.

Bayo thought he’d won, but he’d lost everything.

When Chief Desmond heard what had happened, he didn’t shout. He didn’t rage. He just closed his eyes. And a single tear rolled down his cheek.

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Chapter 9: The Herbalist’s Truth

The next day, the villagers brought in the herbalist. His name was Baba Karim. Tall, dark-skinned, with white chalk markings on his face and a long bag filled with roots, leaves, and bottles of strange liquids. He entered the room slowly, his eyes scanning Chief Desmond like he could see through him.

“Everyone out,” Baba Karim said. “I need to speak with him alone.”

Amara hesitated.
“But—”

“Out.”

She stepped outside and closed the door.

Baba Karim sat down beside the bed. He stared at Chief Desmond for a long time without saying anything. Then slowly he smiled.

“You are not sick,” he said simply.

Chief Desmond’s eyes shot open.
“What?”

Baba Karim chuckled softly. “I have been healing people for forty years. I know what sickness looks like. And you—” he pointed at Desmond’s chest—“your heart is broken, but your body is strong.”

Desmond sat up slightly, dropping the act.
“How did you know?”

“Your eyes. A dying man’s eyes are dull. Yours are sharp, angry, watching.” He leaned back. “So tell me, Chief, why are you pretending?”

For a moment, Desmond said nothing. Then quietly, he spoke.

“I wanted to see who truly loved me,” he said, his voice thick with pain. “I wanted to know if my family cared about me or just my money.”

Baba Karim nodded slowly.
“And what did you find?”

Desmond’s jaw tightened.
“I found that only one person stayed. My last daughter. The rest…” He laughed bitterly. “They’re selling my properties, throwing parties, waiting for me to die.”

The herbalist was silent for a moment. Then he placed a hand on Desmond’s shoulder.

“You are a wise man, Chief. Many people fear death, but you used it as a mirror. And now you have seen the truth.”

“The truth has destroyed me,” Desmond whispered.

“No.” Baba Karim shook his head. “The truth has freed you. Now you know who deserves your love and who deserves nothing.”

Chapter 10: The Reckoning

Back in the city, chaos had taken over the mansion. Tunde was running the company into the ground. Profits were falling. Clients were leaving. Staff were quitting.

One afternoon, he stormed into the house, his face red with frustration.

“We need money,” he announced to the family. “The company is dying.”

Nikem looked up from her phone.
“So, what do you want us to do?”

“We sell the Sunray Grand Hotel.”

Kemi frowned.
“Didn’t Bayo already sell that?”

Tunde turned sharply to Bayo.
“What?”

Bayo shifted uncomfortably.
“I… I sold it months ago.”

“You what?”

“I needed the money,” Bayo shouted back.

Tunde lunged at him. They crashed into the coffee table, fists flying. Kemi screamed. Nikem just sat there unbothered, sipping her wine.

In the middle of the fight, the front door opened. Everyone froze. Standing in the doorway, strong and steady, was Chief Desmond Adakunlia. No cane, no cough, no weakness—just a man alive, awake, and angry. Amara stood beside him, her face glowing with pride.

Kemi’s mouth fell open.
“Daddy.”

Tunde stumbled backward.
“How… how are you…?”

Bayo turned pale. Nikem dropped her glass. It shattered on the floor.

Chief Desmond stepped into the house slowly, his eyes scanning each of them like a judge reading a verdict.

“Surprised?” he said coldly.

No one spoke. The silence was suffocating.

Chief Desmond walked to the center of the living room. Amara stayed by the door, her arms crossed, her eyes filled with tears—not of sadness, but of justice.

“I was never sick,” Desmond said, his voice cutting through the air like a blade. “I never had cancer.”

Gasps filled the room.

“I pretended,” he continued. “I wanted to see who would stand by me when I had nothing left to give. I wanted to see who loved me and who was just waiting for me to die.”

Tunde’s face twisted.
“Dad, this is—”

“Shut up,” Desmond roared.

Tunde flinched. Desmond turned to him, his eyes blazing.

“You, my firstborn, I gave you everything. Education, respect, a position in my company. And what did you do? You fired loyal workers who built that company with me. You threw parties with company money. You bought cars. You acted like I was already dead.”

Tunde opened his mouth, but no words came out.

Desmond turned to Bayo.
“And you? You sold my hotel, the Sunray Grand, my pride, my legacy. You sold it like it was a piece of trash.”

Bayo dropped to his knees.
“Dad, I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” Desmond laughed bitterly. “You sold my hotel while I was dying upstairs. You didn’t even wait for the casket.”

He turned to Kemi.
“And you? You came to my room and asked for your inheritance while I was still breathing. You asked me for money like I was already a ghost.”

Kemi covered her face and sobbed.

Then slowly, Chief Desmond turned to his wife. Nikem stood frozen, her hands shaking.

“And you,” Desmond said quietly, his voice like ice. “After fifty years of marriage, after everything I gave you, you brought another man into my house.”

The room went deathly silent. Kemi’s head snapped up.

“Mama, what is he talking about?”

Nikem’s eyes went wide.
“I… I didn’t—”

“Don’t lie,” Desmond said coldly. “I know about Ben. I know you’ve been sneaking out to hotels. I know you moved me to the guest room because you couldn’t stand the sight of me.”

Tears streamed down Nikem’s face.
“Please, Desmond. I was lonely.”

“You were lonely?” Desmond’s voice cracked. “I was dying. Or so you thought. And you were lonely.”

He stepped closer.
“You didn’t bring me water. You didn’t hold my hand. You didn’t even ask if I was in pain. But you had time for him.”

Nikem collapsed onto the sofa, wailing. Desmond turned away from her in disgust.

He looked at his lawyer. Chidi, who had just walked in.

“Mr. Chidi,” Desmond said firmly. “Tell them.”

Chidi opened his folder.

“As of today, the following changes are in effect,” he read slowly, his voice clear and official. “Tunde Adakunlia, you are removed from the company. The house and car you sold were your inheritance. You’ve already taken it. You will not receive another kobo. Find your own way.”

Tunde’s face went white.

“Bayo Adakunlia, the hotel you sold has been returned to your father’s name. The money you made is frozen. You are also removed from the company. Your inheritance is gone.”

Bayo fell forward, sobbing into his hands.

“Kemi Adakunlia, you will receive nothing until you prove through your actions that you’ve changed. If you earn back your father’s trust, he may reconsider.”

Kemi wailed loudly.

Then Chidi turned to Nikem.
“Mrs. Nikem Adakunlia, you have twenty-four hours to leave this house. Divorce papers will be filed within the week.”

Nikem screamed,
“No, please, Desmond, please. I made a mistake.”

But Desmond didn’t even look at her. He turned to Amara, his face softening.

“Amara,” he said gently. “Come here.”

She walked to him, tears streaming down her face. He took her hands.

“You are the only one who stayed, the only one who loved me when you thought I had nothing left.” His voice broke. “Everything I have—every property, every business, every naira—is now yours.”

The room exploded.

“What?” Tunde shouted. “That’s not fair!”

Kemi screamed.

But Chief Desmond raised his hand.

“Amara is also the new CEO of my company. Effective immediately.”

Chidi nodded.
“All documents have been signed.”

Amara covered her mouth, sobbing.
“Daddy…”

He pulled her into his arms.
“You earned it, my daughter. Not because you’re my child, but because you loved me.”

Chapter 11: The New Legacy

One year later, the company was thriving again. Under Amara’s leadership, profits doubled. New branches opened across the country. The old workers returned, grateful and loyal.

Chief Desmond sat in his office, watching his daughter lead a board meeting. She was confident, wise, respected.

Tunde and Bayo had found jobs elsewhere. They were humbled, slowly learning what it meant to work for something. Kemi had started volunteering at a charity. She called her father once a month. He answered slowly. Trust was being rebuilt.

And Nikem—no one knew where she went and no one asked.

But Amara, she stood tall, loved, honored, blessed. Because when the test came, she didn’t run. She stayed.

Epilogue: The Moral

Pride destroys what love builds. Never forget the people who stood by you when you had nothing. True beauty is not in the body, but in the heart that loves you genuinely. And forgiveness heals deeper than revenge ever could.

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THE END