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Pinky TV, St Andre, Alor Setar (2025)

29/06/2025

THE POOR MAID SAVED THE BILLIONAIRE’S BABY—BUT WHAT SHE GOT IN RETURN SHOCKED EVERYONE
EPISODE 4

Life in the Desmond mansion no longer echoed with tension but with peace—a kind of peace that had been absent for years. The sun rose differently through the windows, birds seemed to sing louder, and little Ethan never stopped smiling. Ada had grown from the timid maid who once crept silently through corridors into a woman who now walked with confidence, her presence respected by all. Mr. Desmond kept his promise. Ada was enrolled in a prestigious finishing school abroad, her documents fast-tracked, and her travel set. But before she left, something unexpected happened—Desmond knelt before her one quiet evening after dinner with a small velvet box in his hand. “Ada,” he said, eyes gentle, voice steady, “you didn’t just save my son—you saved me. You reminded me what it means to love without status, serve without pride, and believe in goodness again. If your heart will allow it, I want you not only as my daughter… but as my wife.” The world stood still. Ethan clapped excitedly, thinking it was a game. Ada’s hands trembled. Her eyes watered. She looked at the man who had once seemed so far above her, now kneeling—not as a billionaire, but as a man humbled by love. Slowly, she sank to her knees too. “You don’t have to give me a crown,” she whispered, “just a place beside you.” Months later, Lagos buzzed with the most unusual headline: “Billionaire Desmond Marries Former Maid Who Saved His Son’s Life—Love Truly Has No Class.” Photos of Ada in her wedding gown—graceful, regal, radiant—filled social media. Many mocked. Many wept. Many believed. Mrs. Desmond never returned. She tried to sue, claiming emotional distress, but her case fell flat when evidence of past mistreatment surfaced. Ada chose not to press charges. She had moved on. Ethan became her son. Desmond became her best friend. And Ada—Ada became a symbol of hope. A reminder that kindness pays, courage wins, and true love often wears the simplest clothes. They started a foundation together called “The Ada Heart Project,” helping maids and domestic workers gain education and protection across the country. At every launch event, Ada told her story—how she once slept on a mat behind the mansion and now stood beside the man she once served. She ended every speech the same way: “What you do from the heart, returns to you multiplied. I gave love, and love came back wearing a ring.” And the world believed, because there she stood—proof that even the poor girl sweeping in shadows might one day be crowned queen… not because she chased wealth, but because she chose love.

THE END.

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29/06/2025

THE POOR MAID SAVED THE BILLIONAIRE’S BABY—BUT WHAT SHE GOT IN RETURN SHOCKED EVERYONE
EPISODE 3

Ada didn’t sleep that night. She sat on the balcony of the guest room Mr. Desmond had moved her into, the same room that once belonged to a distant cousin who lived abroad. Everything felt like a dream—the soft bed, the floral curtains, the kind nurse who now came to check on her wounds twice a day. But even with the comforts, Ada’s heart trembled. Not because she was afraid of change—but because she had never known a life where she was seen, heard, and valued. When morning came, the entire mansion was in an uproar. Mr. Desmond had announced to the press that he would be sponsoring Ada’s education abroad and starting a foundation in her name to support underprivileged domestic workers. Cameras flashed, microphones stretched toward her mouth, but Ada stayed silent, eyes wide with disbelief. Beside her, Ethan held her hand. The small boy hadn’t left her side since he woke up. He refused to eat unless she fed him, refused to sleep unless she hummed. It was as if saving him had connected their souls. Mrs. Desmond was livid. She refused to be seen with Ada, locked herself in her room for days, and accused her husband of humiliating her. “How dare you bring a maid into our legacy?” she yelled. “What will society say?” Mr. Desmond replied calmly, “They’ll say she saved our only child when you stood still.” That was the beginning of a cold war in the mansion. Every meal was eaten in silence. Mr. Desmond began involving Ada in family decisions—asking her opinion about the new house designs, inviting her to sit beside him during business calls. Staff members who once ignored her now stood when she entered. Even Ethan began calling her “Big Sister” in front of guests. But the tension peaked when an invitation arrived for the annual billionaire gala. Mr. Desmond announced that Ada would attend with him and Ethan. “She deserves to be introduced to the world,” he said. Mrs. Desmond laughed bitterly. “As what? A trophy? A charity case?” “As someone I admire more than anyone in this room,” he said and walked away. The night of the gala arrived. Ada wore a wine-colored gown that clung to her slim frame like it had always belonged there. Her scars had faded. Her heart had healed. As she stepped into the hall, murmurs spread. Some mocked her. Some praised her. But everyone stared. She was no longer invisible. Halfway through the event, the host called Ada to the stage. Mr. Desmond joined her and made the official announcement—she would be legally adopted into the Desmond family and given her own trust fund. The applause was thunderous. But not everyone clapped. Mrs. Desmond stood at the edge of the room, shaking with rage. Later that night, when the guests were gone, she cornered Ada in the hallway. “You think you’ve won? This house, this family, it’s not yours. You’re still just a maid,” she hissed. Ada looked at her—not with fear, but with quiet strength. “Maybe I was. But now, I’m something you’ll never be—grateful.” Mrs. Desmond slapped her. The sound echoed. But before Ada could respond, Mr. Desmond appeared behind them. “Pack your things,” he told his wife coldly. “You will not raise your hand against my daughter.” The next morning, Mrs. Desmond was gone. Ethan was playing with Ada in the garden. Mr. Desmond stood by the window, watching them with soft eyes. And Ada? She looked up at the sky, a quiet smile on her face, realizing that sometimes, fate chooses the lowliest heart to change the richest home.

To be continued

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29/06/2025

THE POOR MAID SAVED THE BILLIONAIRE’S BABY—BUT WHAT SHE GOT IN RETURN SHOCKED EVERYONE
EPISODE 2

The hospital room was quiet except for the soft beeping of machines and the shallow breathing of the billionaire’s son, Ethan, whose head was wrapped in bandages. Yet beside his bed, on a small plastic chair, sat Ada—the maid who had thrown herself in front of an oncoming car to save him. Her left arm was bandaged, her forehead bruised, and she had not stopped trembling since the accident. Nurses whispered about her bravery, and even doctors stared at her in awe. But all Ada could think about was how cold Ethan’s mother, Mrs. Desmond, had been when she arrived at the emergency room. She didn’t run to hug her son. She didn’t even look at Ada. Instead, she shouted at the nurses, demanded private care, and sent a driver to fetch her designer handbag from the Rolls Royce. “She’s just the maid,” Ada had heard her say. “Why is everyone fussing?”

That sentence echoed in Ada’s mind all night. She had saved the life of a child who wasn’t hers. A boy who used to call her ‘Aunty’ and hug her ankles when she swept the corridor. A boy who had once shared his orange juice with her when she was too shy to ask for water. But to his mother, Ada was still just a maid. Worthless. Replaceable. Even though she was the reason her son was still alive.

Mr. Desmond arrived the next morning. Unlike his wife, he didn’t wear judgment in his eyes. He walked straight to Ada, took her injured hand gently, and whispered, “Thank you. You have no idea what you’ve done for me.” Ada wanted to cry. Not because of the pain—but because it was the first time anyone had thanked her from the heart since she started working in the Desmond mansion. She was only seventeen when she moved in, and since then, her life had been a blur of chores, scolding, and loneliness. But this moment—this one act of gratitude—made all the difference.

While the Desmonds argued in the hallway about what to tell the press, Ada stayed by Ethan’s side. She cleaned his lips, adjusted his blanket, and sang lullabies under her breath. When he opened his eyes two days later, the first word he whispered was, “Aunty.”

From that day, everything changed.

The media got hold of the CCTV footage from a nearby building. It showed Ada running into the road, pulling Ethan out of the way just seconds before the SUV crashed. Within hours, hashtags like and were trending online. Blogs wrote articles about her. Strangers called the hospital offering money and gifts. Ada, who had never owned a phone, suddenly had news crews asking for interviews.

Mrs. Desmond hated it. She called the attention “embarrassing.” She accused Ada of “planning the accident” for clout. But the world saw the truth. Ada was not a maid. She was a girl who had risked her life for someone else’s child. And soon, the billionaire’s house became too small to contain the rising wave of public admiration.

One morning, Ada was called to the sitting room. Mr. Desmond was waiting with a lawyer. “Ada,” he began, “you saved my son. I can’t repay you with words. But I’d like to offer you a full scholarship—any university of your choice. Anywhere in the world. I want to adopt you legally if you’ll let me. You deserve better.”

Ada couldn’t speak. Her lips quivered. Tears spilled down her cheeks like water from a broken pipe. For the first time in her life, someone looked at her not as a servant—but as a daughter.

Mrs. Desmond stormed out. “This is madness!” she screamed. “She doesn’t belong in our family!”

But Mr. Desmond turned to her calmly. “She saved your son. What did you do?”

To be continued

28/06/2025

SHE GAVE BIRTH ALONE IN A TOILET… AND WHAT SHE DID NEXT WILL BREAK YOU

They say motherhood is beautiful.

But nobody told me it could be this cruel.

I was 17. Pregnant. Alone. Hiding my shame like a dead rat in my chest.

And nobody noticed.

Not my father, who drank away his pension and passed out on the floor like furniture.

Not my stepmother, who only noticed me when I forgot to sweep the compound or left one grain of rice on her gas cooker.

Not even my teachers, who laughed louder at my silence than my presence.

I was invisible. Except to the boy who made me pregnant.

His name was Dennis. Sweet smile. Sweet lies.

He said he loved me.

He said we’d run away to Lagos and start a makeup business.

But the moment I told him I’d missed my period for 2 months…

He blocked me.

No calls. No chats. No sorry.

Just gone, like my dreams.

---

I hid the pregnancy for seven months.

I tightened wrappers around my waist. Wore big clothes. Took small steps. And cried big tears at night.

Sometimes, I sat by the window, watching mothers play with their babies on the street.

And I would whisper to my unborn child:

"Don’t worry… Mama will love you enough for two."

But love doesn’t cook food.

Love doesn’t stop shame.

Love didn’t stop my stepmother from throwing my bag into the gutter the day she found my bloated belly while I was washing clothes.

"Ashawo! Get out of my house! Carry your bastard and go to his father’s grave!"

I ran. Crying. Holding my belly like it was glass.

And that’s when the contractions started.

---

It was a Sunday evening.

The streets were half-empty. The church bells were ringing. And I was in pain.

Real pain.

Like my whole body was fighting itself.

I had nowhere to go. Nobody to call.

So I found an abandoned public toilet near the market.

Flies. Bloodstains. Broken tiles.

That’s where I gave birth.

Alone.

With my mouth biting into my own wrapper so I wouldn’t scream.

With tears soaking the floor.

With my baby’s head coming out faster than my courage.

And when he came out… he didn’t cry.

Just silence.

---

He was a boy.

Tiny. Cold. Still.

I shook him. Rubbed his back. Whispered his name, Daniel.

But Daniel didn’t cry.

He didn’t move.

I screamed. Not with my voice, but with my heart.

I tried everything I saw in movies. Blew into his mouth. Pressed his chest.

Nothing.

I held him close. Wrapped him in my shirt.

And rocked him.

For hours.

Maybe if I sang to him, he’d come back.

Maybe if I begged, God would rewind time.

But he didn’t.

Daniel was gone.

---

Morning came.

People were waking up. Market women were opening shops. Life was moving on.

But I was frozen, cradling my dead baby in a dirty public toilet.

I didn’t know what to do.

I was bleeding. Dizzy. Empty.

So I tore my wrapper into pieces. Dug a hole behind the toilet with my bare hands.

And I buried him.

Still wrapped in my shirt.

Still close to my heart.

Still mine.

---

I walked out of that toilet like a ghost.

Nobody looked at me.

Nobody saw the girl who just buried her first child with her bare hands.

Nobody saw the blood dripping down her legs.

Or the pain dragging her steps.

I was just another girl on the street.

Another shadow.

Another forgotten story.

But I remember.

I will never forget.

Daniel.

---

To be continued

28/06/2025

The Poor Maid Saved the Billionaire’s Baby—But What She Got in Return shocked everyone
EPISODE 1

They called her the girl in the background—always quiet, always barefoot, always carrying a mop or a bucket in one hand and sorrow in the other. Her name was Ekaette, and for five years, she worked in the sprawling Lekki mansion of the Danladi family—the kind of family whose last name alone could get you into private parties or make a bank manager stand up when you walked in. Mr. and Mrs. Danladi were young billionaires, polished like glass, always on magazine covers, always traveling, never home. Their only child, Jamal, was barely three and barely knew his parents. He had a nanny, a chef, two drivers, a private tutor, and still, somehow, no one truly saw him—except Ekaette. She wasn’t hired to watch him, but she always did. She was the one who noticed when he had a fever, when his milk was too hot, when he stared too long at the door waiting for a father who was always flying out. She loved that boy like he came from her own womb, even though she never touched a man in her life. But one rainy night, that love was tested beyond anything she could imagine. The rain that evening wasn’t ordinary. It poured like the sky was angry, flooding the compound, cutting off the lights, drowning the sounds of the mansion in thunder and wind. Most of the staff had gone home early because of a holiday weekend. Only Ekaette, the chef, and the night security man remained. Mrs. Danladi had flown to Paris. Mr. Danladi was in Abuja. Jamal was asleep in his room upstairs. Ekaette was mopping the hallway when she heard it—the sound of glass shattering, followed by heavy footsteps downstairs. At first, she thought it was the wind or maybe the chef. But when she called out and no one answered, fear crawled up her back like a spider. Then she heard it again—closer this time. Not footsteps. Boots. Wet. Angry. She rushed to the back kitchen, only to find the chef on the floor—unconscious

16/06/2025

He never told me he was getting married to another woman—not until his wedding day, after I slept over at his house. He never once said he didn’t see me as his future wife, not even subtly. Instead, he kept using me, and in the end, he broke my heart and walked away.

Charles has been my boyfriend for four months now. He has been sweet, consistent, and never gave me any red flags or reason to doubt his intentions. I visited his house often.

We did everything together—cooked, watched movies, talked late into the night. Slept together. Not once did I ever run into the woman he was preparing to say “I do” to. She never visited, maybe because he didn’t want her to. Or maybe he was just that good at hiding his double life.

I kept giving my all, thinking we were growing stronger as a couple. I invested my mind, body, and soul.

That Saturday morning, I woke up to the sound of movement—his friends, both familiar and unfamiliar, were rushing through the house like they were preparing for something big. They were all dressed in matching blue senator suits, looking sharp and excited.

Charles, my Charles, wore a suit that made him look like a model. I was confused. What were they all dressed up for?

Then I overheard one of his friends whisper, “Tell her now…”
Tell me what?

Charles turned to him and said, “I didn’t ask her to come over last night.”

What? Not after we spent the whole night together? Not after we made love? He didn't want me here? I was still confused.

Then he threw a bundle of money at me and told me to leave before he got back.

I was too stunned to speak. My voice failed me. I wanted to scream, but the shock silenced me.

“Is that what you think of me now?” I finally managed to speak, broken. “You sleep with me and pay me?”

He looked at me—his face almost remorseful—but his words stung worse than a slap.

“You’re not wife material. I’m sorry, but I can’t end up with you. That’s why. Just go. Let’s end this in peace.”

I didn’t understand. Why didn’

26/05/2025

HOW TO FORGET SOMEONE YOU LOVE AFTER FALL OUT.

I'm going to be honest with you.

It's not easy to forget about someone you truly love, someone who has become an integral part of your life, someone you have invested so much on, someone you are mentally and emotionally attached to, someone you have shared the best and most beautiful memories with, someone you understandings and felt like the person also does same.

Honestly, it's not easy to let go of such a person.

No matter how easy I make "the move on" sound to you here, it's never easy, and I understand, but the thing is that you have no option but to learn how to adapt in their absence.

You see if you fail to gather the courage and strength to move on from a failed relationship, you will eventually keep hurting yourself, endangering your future, and destroying yourself in the present.

Life goes on.

Feel bad as you want, but understand that when people are no longer interested in you anymore, there is nothing you can do about it.

You can't control how people feel about you and their decisions, you must understand.

If they are no longer for you anymore, it's their choice, and you can't do anything about it other than focusing on controlling what you can't, which is trying your best to find peace and move on.

Learn to accept reality.

If you are the reason for the fallout and you have apologized and your apology fell on deaf ears, don't hurt yourself the more for the mistakes.

Accept it and move on in good faith.

You have to develop that strength to continue living even after so many disappointments. That's what life is all about.

Your ability to refuse to remain beaten is what success is all about.

Move on, accept the memories you shared with the person, don't fight it.

Think about those lovely moment and be happy you once had a life like that, then focus on building something like that in the future.

Everyone is replaceable, believe me.

29/04/2025

THE ARRANGED MARRIAGE .
chapter 3 .
luminathi's pov :

the car pulls up to a beautiful , modern mansion . I've never seen anything like it before . luca's parents exchange a warm smile , and his mother turns to me .

luca's mother: we're here dear , this is luca's home .

I nod , still feeling a bit dazed . the car door opens and luca's parents step out , expecting me to follow .

as we enter the house , I see luca sitting on the couch , laptop open in front of him . he looks up , catches my eye and quickly closes his laptop .

luca's parents approach him , smiling .

luca's mother: luca , dear , we brought lumi .

luca's expression turns cold , and he gives me a death stare without saying a word .

his parents seem to expect this reaction , and they exchange a knowing glance .

luca's father: we'll leave you two to get acquainted , we'll talk to you later .

with that , they turn and leave , closing the door behind them . I'm left standing in the entrance hall , feeling awkward and unsure .

luca looks at me , his expression unreadable .

luca: just drop your bag or something .

hee says finally , his voice curt . I hesitate, unsure of what to do next .

luca: you can go to your room . it's upstairs , second floor on the left .

I nod even though he's not looking at me . I feel out of place , like a small-town girl who's stumbled into luxury mansion .

28/04/2025

THE ARRANGED MARRIAGE .
chapter 2 .
luminathi's pov :
I'm still reeling from the news of the arranged marriage . I haven't had time to process everything , and now I hear my father calling me from the living room .

father: luminathi , come here for a minute .

I take a deep breath and walk into the living room , still wearing my school uniform . that's when I see them – a white couple sitting on the couch , looking like they own the place . and then I see him – a tall, handsome guy with piercing blue eyes . he looks like he's in his early twenties .

my father smiles and gestures to the couple .

father: luminathi , this is Luca's parents, and that's luca himself .

luca looks me up and down , a mixture of surprise and disgust on his face .

luca: fu***ng school child ? are we playing some kind of game here ?

he storms out of the house , leaving his parents looking embarrassed . luca's father tries to reassure us .

luca's father: don't worry , he'll be fine . he's just a bit...passionate .

luca's mother smiles weakly .

luca'c mother: yes , he can be a bit...impulsive .

my father turns to me .

father: go pack your bags , you're leaving with Luca's parents now .

tears quickly fill my eyes and I shake my head .

me: I'm not going anywhere , never .

my father's expression turns firm .

father: lumi , we talked about this . stop being stubborn , child .

I turn to my mother , hoping for support , but she just shrugs her shoulders .

mother: your father has spoken lumi , go pack your things .

I go to my room , tears blurring my vision as I pack my clothes . I return to the dining room , where my father is waiting .

father: good girl . don't disappoint your daddy , okay ?

luca's parents leave first , and I follow them to the black SUV . as I'm about to get in , I catch a glimpse of my brother , ahluma , watching from the doorway looking worried .

my heart sinks and I run towards him , hugging him tightly .

me: i love you , okay ?
ahluma: I love you too sisi

27/04/2025

THE ARRANGED MARRIAGE .
chapter 1 .
luminathi moroka's pov :

I'm luminathi moroka , an 18-year-old high school student who's always felt like my life is pretty ordinary . I go to school , hang out with friends and try to stay out of trouble . but all of that changed yesterday when my parents dropped a bombshell on me .

" are you okay ?" my friend amahle snaps at me .

me: mh mh , I'm okay .
amahle: you seem...distracted .
me: me ? distracted ? nope , definitely not .

i fake a smile .

me: let me go home , ke . I love you , bye!

☆

i'm now at home , trying to process everything . I feel like my whole world has been turned upside down . an arranged marriage ? to some Italian guy I've never even met ? It sounds like something out of a bad soap opera .

I keep thinking about how my parents could do this to me . don't they care about my feelings ? don't they want me to be happy ? I understand that they want to provide for me and my younger brother , ahluma , but marrying off their daughter to a total stranger is not the way to do it . It's not a good way to secure our future or ensure our happiness . I feel like I'm being sold off to some stranger , like I'm nothing more than a piece of property .

I'm so angry and scared and confused , I don't know what to do or who to turn to .

25/04/2025

THE ARRANGED MARRIAGE .
Prologue

luminathi moroka trudged wearily along the dusty road , her backpack weighing heavily on her shoulders . she hated walking home from school , but her family couldn't afford transport fees . as she turned the corner onto her street , she spotted the familiar sight of her small , weathered house .

she pushed open the creaky front gate and made her way to the front door , dropping her backpack onto the floor with a sigh . her stomach growled , reminding her that she hadn't eaten lunch .

" lumi , is that you ?" her mother called from the dining area .

luminathi walked into the dining room , where her parents sat waiting for her . her father , uyanda gestured for her to take a seat .

" lumi, we need to talk " he said , his expression serious .

luminathi's heart began to beat faster as she sat down , what could this be about ?

" lumi , you know things have been tough for us financially . we've been struggling to make ends meet . "

luminathi nodded , feeling a sense of dread creeping over her .

" we've been presented with an opportunity , an Italian family has offered to take you in as their daughter-in-law . their son , Luca, is willing to marry you and provide for you and our family . "

luminathi's eyes widened in shock . " are you selling me ?" she asked , her voice trembling .

her father's face darkened . " no lumi , we're not selling you . we just need to ensure that you and qhluma are taken care of . this is the best opportunity for us ."

luminathi felt a wave of panic wash over her , married ? to a stranger ? she couldn't process this .

but before she could respond , her father stood up his expression firm . " It's settled lumi . you'll be marrying luca ."

luminathi's world had just been turned upside down .
TBC

25/04/2025

Never chase a person that doesn’t know your worth because the moment you catch him, you will always feel you were never good enough.”

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