My Husband Married Our Babysitter; Now, She Is In, And I’m Out

Our babysitter, Gold, first came to our home when she was eleven years old.

Life lesson from my parents:

My parents were professional, and they did their best. They had many mouths to feed, including their parents, siblings, and others.

The lesson I learned from my parents — they worked hard and were happy and content with what they had and did. I learned that things could get better for the believer. Believe in yourself, be hopeful, and work hard.

My mom taught us to support one other business and stressed that we should always go the extra mile in a job for our friends and relatives. She stressed, “Treat your siblings and friends as you would do with your number one client.” She added, “Never take one another for granted.”

My mother’s lesson came because of her bad experience with her older sister, Alexa. She told us that her sister designed her wedding dress, and she did not do a good job.

While telling me the story, my mom appeared sad and said, “Many people were shocked she made my wedding dress.”

My mom explained that her sister went to a design school at a young age and was good at her work. Many people in their town hired her to design their ballroom and wedding dresses. She always did a fantastic job.

My mom stresses, “Alexa’s design is unique, and she is creative and brilliant.”

I believe this is true because in her 70s she is young in her heart, and she loves good things in life. Currently, she is a visiting professor at her alma mater.

My mother continued to say, “But my wedding dress did not represent her work at all. I forgave her for ruining my special day, but I learned a great lesson. She resented me for attending an IVY college, and that showed when she was trying to make my wedding dress.”

My mom always advised her children never to take anyone for granted and feel free to say no to anyone. She added, “If you are not happy with anyone, never cook their food or design their clothes or house. Instead, recommend another person to help them.”

I ignored this advice only once when my sister, Arina, with our direction and specificity, designed our house. The design plan was a masterpiece, and the main contractor did a marvelous job. My sister spends more time with her associates to make everything perfect. We paid her extra for a job well done.

We joke every time we want to hire each other for services with this lesson. I pass this lesson to everyone, including you — if you do not like someone, do not cook their food or design their clothes.

Creative people, are you listening? Your mind is your work tool and worth billions of dollars.

Our babysitter, Gold:

Our babysitter, Gold, first came to our home when she was eleven years old. She came with her parents to our housewarming party, where she wore a sundress with orange flats. I admired how she carried herself and interacted with us and others.

I could tell her family ran in the wealthy circles around our city. She was assertive and versed with adult discussion, which her parents were at ease with the attention they paid to her.

My husband, Ken, and I were impressed and satisfied with a young feminist in our house.

I am a feminist, and yes, Gold’s mother, Miichael, was too. Miichael dressed in a freedom way — she wore tailored red cotton pants and a well-made jean jacket under a white t-shirt with a statement blue pearls necklace.

Me: “Miichael, I like your name. It is special.”

Miichael: “Thanks. My mom said they expected a boy as their first child, but they had me. They said “Jesus” was the firstborn, and they believed that. But they had me, the super Jesus, and they changed their chosen name, Michael, to Miichael. God saves the queen; everyone wants Jesus as their first child. That is one of the reasons I am a feminist; my two younger brothers are also.”

Me: “God saves the queen; everyone wants Jesus as their firstborn.”

Miichael: “My brothers told my mom to stop telling her “Stupid” Jesus’ story.”

Me: “Follow the trail…My mother told me her mother-in-law hated her for giving her a girl as a first grandchild.”

A new guest interrupted our conversation, and I am glad, we stopped talking about the haters.

Later when the party was almost over, and I observed Ken’s eyes following Gold’s interaction with everyone, young and old.

Both of us are of new money, and you could see the differences on the party floor. But we are proud of ourselves because we work hard, and the American dream is ours. Here we are having fun with our new money and kicking the old money ass.

Guests departed the party, and my mind ran around Gold’s wealth of experience. I thought, “She is only eleven, and she is the future CEO or President of her family empire.”

Gold excused herself from her parents and walked over to us. She asked my husband and me, “Mr. and Mrs. Abasi, would you hire me as a mom and dad helper.”

Ken did not have a chance to respond before her mother joined the conversation and rolled out her daughter’s impressive resume with her experience and training.

My thought was, “Dad helper?” Dad helper was a new one for me, so I dismissed the idea as funny.

Ken and I were a young couple almost the same age as Gold’s parents. Joe was much older than his wife.

My husband was a tall, handsome, mild-mannered man, had a sexy career, and was a serial entrepreneur. I was not Ms. universe but an authority in my field with a well-established business background.

We talked about Gold that night. We both agreed that she could play with our daughter, Kenzy.

We hired Gold, and her job was to play with our 13-month-old daughter when our live-in nanny, Nikky, left on Sundays.

From the first day Gold started coming, I felt something was off, which I dismissed as funny. She was eleven years old and a middle schooler. There was mischief here and there, but I did not think my husband would think anything about a child at that time.

Gold asked for and received almost the same amount as our live-in nanny. Now, I am feeling guilty. Why did I pay Gold that much? The truth is she asked for it and lived in my neighborhood. Yes, I am embarrassed.

I am a Feminist. Are you?

Our son Zyion joined the family a few months after moving to our new home. We custom-designed and built our new home. I am so proud of the job my sister, Arina did with the design. My home is like day and night from my childhood home.

Ken and Gold Drama:

One incident stuck out during her junior year in high school. My husband joined her family to attend an event. He was so excited and talked about Gold for a week nonstop.

I dismissed the thought and wondered what a grown and powerful man was doing with the fifteen-year-old girl. I was naive and inexperienced with the rich culture. The rich culture is power, money, reputation, and manipulation.

Another time, he wrote Gold a check that was triple her monthly pay. I was concerned and asked why a bigger tip than our nanny. He joked, “That is embarrassing — the holidays are coming. We can do better with Nikky. She is our backbone and runs everything smoothly in the house. “

I thought, “We are both feminists.”

I let it go. Why? Because he wrote the check while we were making love and eating snacks.

We kept the arrangement until Gold left for college. She worked with our two children, Kenzy and Zyion, on Sundays.

Gold got pregnant in her junior year in college, and she was eighteen years old, and the hell let loose with the family reputation. Miichael became distant; we only kept to a simple hello and an insincere, “How are you.” I guess it was our differences — she came from wealth, and I made mine.

Gold had the baby, and her grandparents took the child. My nanny helped hire a wonderful nanny for her grandparents.

I did not know much about the baby because her parents did not talk about him. In this culture, I learned they do not explain things — “Don’t ask, don’t tell.”

My children were nine and seven and did not need any help on Sundays, but Nikky was still with us, and the kids adored her. We kept our promise and paid for her nursing degree. We all feel better now. We are all feminists.

One evening in my home office, my nanny, who had grown to be a family member, told me about the baby. She said, “The baby is handsome, and he looks like your daughter.” Her facial expression was a mix of disgust and fear.

My body tensed for a moment, but I laughed off and joked that might mean he was our second son. Why? I was her employer. I forgot about it.

I became suspicious when my well-mannered husband started complaining about every little mistake of our nanny. Nikky has been with us for almost a decade.

I was concerned, but I dismissed my feeling as crazy. Then I learned about the baby’s name, Kingzy.

Gold’s baby name is Kingzy. My daughter’s name is Kenzy, and my son’s name is Zyion. I thought, “I am out; she is in. What the f@@k.”

My investigation began. I asked my nanny to get Kingzy’s picture. The following weekend, she received his photo from his nanny.

When I saw the photo, I fell off my bike! God saved my head since I did not fall on the sidewalk but on the lawn. Then, I pulled myself up. Call me crazy, but I rode to the park to see this baby. Please do not judge me because you are not in my shoes.

When I saw the baby, he was my husband’s everything. I was shocked, embarrassed, and furious. I remained calm and used a tissue to steal saliva from a five-month-old baby. My husband’s saliva was easy. I got it tested, and he was the father.

Emotionally, I divorced him after I read the test results. Yes, my life comes first before a mother F@@@

I confided with my boss, Joy, who advised I take time off from work. Joy is the managing partner of our firm, and she set a new standard in supporting and empowering women in their personal life. I worked late to finish up and transferred a few of my cases to Joy. I took two weeks off.

I went home to see my husband making dinner for us. Ken was a positive person and a hands-on man. He knows how to do everything to make things easier for his family. He came home early on Mondays and Fridays, so he could pick me up from the train station and make dinner. I worked long hours on those days.

I was entirely in control of my emotions and asked our nanny to go home and return the following Monday. She started crying because she was afraid, she would lose her job and have no choice but to drop out of college.

I told her, “You can work with the children until they turn sixteen if you want.” My thoughts were, “ For Nikky, I will support you no matter what. It is time women start doing practical things to help one another.” Nikky left for the rest of the week. My children asked why she left early, and I told them she had a family’s obligation and would be back on Monday.

Too often, children know things parents choose not to know. I felt they knew something was going on.

At about ten at night, when the children were all dead asleep. I called my husband to my home office and started the conversation. I was direct and told him that we did not want a scandal or more pain for our kids.

I promised him that we could work something out, but I needed the truth. He looked me in the eyes and said, “Yes. the child is mine, and I am supporting the baby.”

Now, I know you might be asking, “Why did you not know he was spending money on that woman?” I do not think the woman needed the money. Second, we are financially secure and do not police each other’s spending habits.

Get the picture?

For over a year, my husband came home every day. We had sex every other day, had two family vacations, and went to a couple’s retreat.

On that four-day retreat, we had sex in the morning, afternoon, and evening. We were so happy that we cried for joy for finding each other. He sobbed each time we made love in a hotel swimming pool.

Tell me, who does that? Who is Ken? We have been married for twelve years. I relived all the good times we had in our relationship.

The feeling was terrible, and I thought about the gun in the trunk of my car and the one in our bedroom. But I reminded myself of the beautiful life I had worked for and my children. And added, “I cannot exchange my good life with a mother f@@k.”

Me: “Did Joe and Miichael know!”

Ken: ‘Yes.”

Me: “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Ken: Silence.

Me: “Tell me when it started and when her parents knew, and I promise I will not use it against you.”

Character or reputation: which one is a rich culture?

Ken: “Are you sure?”

Me: “I keep my word. I doubt you would keep yours. I can only trust myself.”

Ken: “I am going to give you everything you want. None of this can be a detailed divorce in the morning papers. I can lose everything if this gets out.”

My thoughts: “Yes, you could lose everything, including your current lifestyle and children. You had sex with a child. The girl’s parents can press charges.” I boiled internally, but I was on a mission to accomplish a goal. The writing was already on the wall, and I had divorced him in my mind.”

He took a pad and wrote, I made a terrible mistake, and my wife owns 70% of my estate.

Me: “No, 85% of your estate, and you fund your children’s education until graduate school, and there will be no details of a divorce in the morning paper.”

He brought out a new paper and wrote as I directed. He signed his legal signature and dated it. I knew he meant business with his signature. I did not need the money, but the rich always paid for their sins without complaining.

Why? The rich culture values their reputation more than character. The rich are excellent in what they do. They are vase in making, multiplying, and managing their wealth.

Conversation continued:

Ken: “I started having feelings for Gold when she was still young and started dating her in her junior year in high school. Her parents knew when they caught us making out at the Christmas party three years ago.” (I was at that party. Call me stupid).

Ken: “The pregnancy was a mistake, and an abortion was out because of her faith.” (He looked down and seemed relaxed.)

My thoughts: Her faith? We all are feminists. F@@K you. A child rapist. At this point, I checked my feelings and remembered, Ken was still the father of my two young children. But I killed him already with my feelings.

I cried aloud.

Me: “Was she a virgin?”

Ken: “No.”

Me: “Do you want to marry her?”

Ken: “Yes, I want to marry her.”

My anger is off the roof. We are having sex almost every other day until a week ago. Excuse me for a minute — silence.

Me: “How long has this been planned?’

Ken: “A long time, but I thought I would tell you after she finished college.”

Me: “You planned to tell me, a few months from now?”

Ken: “Yes.”

Me: “How are you feeling right now?”

Ken: “I am relieved. I do not want to hurt you anymore or lie to myself. Also, I know we can work it out. I trust you can do this for our kids and our moms.”

Me: I screamed at the top of my lungs. “I will tell the kids and nanny this weekend. You can start looking for an apartment or house. We cannot stay living together!”

Ken: “That is a good idea. We can tell the kids that we are getting divorced, not the details. Nikky know.”

Me: “I am sure the children know something is going on, but how does Nikky know?”

Ken: “Nikky saw us in the city and was angry and screamed at Gold. She has hated me since that day.”

Me: “You need to move to a hotel tonight.”

My thoughts returned to my handgun in our bedroom, only a step from my home office. I walked toward a door. Our real bedroom was downstairs, secretly located for our safety. Only the main contractor and my sister knew the details of the room. It was constructed as a large conference room.

Ken: “I rented an apartment near the village center, and I can sleep there tonight. I am too embarrassed to stay here.”

Me: “Oh, my god! You already rented an apartment! I am so angry. Leave as soon as you can. I will tell the kids what you did because I think they know. Once I caught Kenzy being mean to Gold, and he said to her, “Get away from me; you’re nasty.” We must tell the truth if we want respect from them.”

How can a man do that to his young children?

My mother and mother-in-law were the most devastated. His mother was so angry and she confronted him. She apologized to me and later to our children.

What can I say? She is in, and I am out.

Maybe he is in love with Gold. Who knows? I thought we loved each other. Ken was a virgin when we met. He was eighteen, and I was nineteen. We were both juniors in college. We married after six years of dating, and he learned quickly and became a master in loving and supporting his family.

Ken was a learner and a doer. He loves and cares for his mother and my mom and helps them with their needs and wants. He still cares for my mom.

Many of our friends and family members want our relationship. They want everything we had, but “all that is glitter is not gold.”

Never envy others because you do not know what happens in their homes behind closed doors.

After he left the house that night, I was in pain, and it continued for about a year. But my mom and mother-in-law spent time with the kids and shared their so-called perfect marriage. My mother-in-law’s marriage was worse than mine. Oh yes, like father, like son.

My boss, Joy, was on hand to help me deal with my emotional trauma. My siblings and their spouses helped with anything they could. I learned that true friends and good family members stay when a spouse leaves. Keep your good friends close as much as you can. One day you will need them.

Ken was the second man I knew. The first was a high school boyfriend whom I dumped because he smoked weed and failed his math class. I was a serious student and wanted to do well in life, and I did not want him to destroy my future.

My mom always said, “If your friend smokes, you will smoke.” I believed her because she worked with people who struggled with addiction. She told us how addiction destroyed one of her clients, an outstanding community leader. That advice has stayed with me.

Then in college, I did not date until I met an eighteen-year-old who was already a serial entrepreneur, and we clicked right from our first day in a public park. Did Ken love me? Did I love him?

For about a year after Ken moved out, I relived our life daily. Why? Because I did not see it coming, but I have learned so many lessons from my marriage.

Joy recommended therapy, and I did 16 sessions for about four months. The therapy helped me more with my kids, and I was glad I did it.

A few years ago, Ken’s parents celebrated their 50th anniversary. According to my daughter, it was a big party with beautiful testimonies. I declined the invitation, so did my son. He does not want anything to do with his father or his new wife. But both are respectful of each other.

Now, I am glad we are divorced. I did it because I was worth more than a cheating spouse, and I had enough money and investments to support myself, my children, and others. I can write my story now because I have moved on and am proud of myself and my children. They are twenty-seven and twenty-five, and both are amazing human beings.

Life is good:

Life is good. I got remarried seven years ago to my son’s high school principal, Nike.

I met Nike in a cemetery. He was there for his wife, and I was there for my dad. We were surprised to see each other, and we shared our grief. Before leaving, we exchanged phone numbers. He called me once a week, and we enjoyed talking about our hobbies, childhood, parents, work, and books.

Then my son set us up for a date. That did it for us. We dated for two years before marrying. We love visiting places and having fun doing things together.

We have a goal to visit 100 countries before our 10th anniversary. Life is good. Nike is still working and retiring in four years.

I have not retired from my firm, but I have cut down hours and work mostly from home. I thought one of my children would join me, but children have their agenda. I am still happy and proud of them.

I was concerned my divorce would affect their academics, but the community helped them thrive. It takes a village to raise a well-adjusted child.

Nikky is my rock. She remains a steady force for me and the children. She did everything to help the kids, even took them to spend time with her family during our crisis.

Today, Nikky is a nurse practitioner, and she works in the same hospital my daughter is doing her residency. Nikky will always remain family.

The is a fiction story. It's my original work. it was first published on bassey.medium.com

All rights reserved. BY 2021