Elon Musk's secret baby, a $15 mn deal & a woman's fight to tell the truth

She had Elon Musk's baby and refused to stay silent-what followed was a battle over truth, power, and a billionaire's secret plan for the future

Ashley St Clair didn’t want fame or a fight. She just wanted Elon Musk—the father of her newborn son, Romulus—to acknowledge him. But asking the world’s richest man for a paternity test was never going to be simple. To even get the question in front of Musk, the 26-year-old conservative influencer had to go through his mysterious right-hand man, Jared Birchall.

 

“I don’t want my son to feel like he’s a secret,” she told Birchall during a tense two-hour phone call in December, reported The Wall Street Journal.

 

What followed was a swirl of power, secrecy, and money.

 

 

Birchall, the fixer who runs Musk’s family office and handles his most personal affairs, gave her a warning. Musk, he said, is “a very big-hearted, kind and generous person.” But if a woman chooses the legal route? “That always, always leads to a worse outcome.”

 

And so began a quiet war, one that reveals far more than a dispute over child support. It pulls back the curtain on a vast, "secretive project" by Elon Musk—one allegedly driven by a belief that he must populate the planet with smart, genetically gifted offspring. One that ties into his Mars dreams, his politics, and his vision for humanity’s future.

 

But at its heart is something much simpler: a woman who just wants her son to be recognised by his father.

 

The ‘legion’ plan

 

Musk, 53, has at least 14 known children with four women, including singer Grimes and Neuralink executive Shivon Zilis. But sources told The Wall Street Journal that the real number could be much higher. Some close to him also believe that it’s all part of a deeper mission: to fight a “population collapse” by creating a new generation of elite humans.

 

Musk even calls them his “legion,” referencing ancient Roman armies that conquered the world.

 

And he’s serious. In a text to St Clair, he once floated the idea of using surrogates to speed up the baby-making process, writing, “To reach legion-level before the apocalypse, we will need to use surrogates.”

 

Musk has even scouted women on his social platform, X, for potential motherhood. At least one influencer, Tiffany Fong, said Musk propositioned her via DM—without them ever having met. She declined, fearing it would hurt her income on X. When Musk found out she’d told others, he unfollowed her and her earnings plummeted.

 

Secrecy for sale

 

When St Clair became pregnant, Musk offered a deal: $15 million up front, plus $100,000 a month in support— only if she kept it all quiet. Birchall told her this was standard. Other mothers had also signed similar NDAs, The Wall Street Journal reported.  But to St Clair, the price of silence was too high.

 

The offer came with strings: No mention of Musk, no mention of paternity. If she broke the deal, she’d have to pay it all back. What if something happened to Musk? No trust fund. No life insurance. No promise of long-term protection.  And most importantly, no acknowledgment of her son’s identity.

 

She refused to sign.

 

From romance to legal battle

 

Musk and St Clair met on X in 2023 after he began liking her posts. Their messages turned romantic. Soon, she was flying on his private jet, visiting his office, even meeting his mother, Maye.

 

During a trip to St Barts over New Year’s, she told him she was ovulating. “What are we waiting for?” he said. That night, Romulus was conceived.

 

While pregnant, St Clair mostly stayed inside to avoid public attention. Musk sent her $2 million for expenses, half of it structured as a loan. Security alone cost over $100,000 a month.

 

He told her she should have 10 children and discouraged circumcision, despite her Jewish faith. He wanted a C-section, claiming vaginal births “limit brain size.” She declined.

 

As labour neared, Birchall texted her to leave Musk’s name off the birth certificate. She complied.

 

Going public

 

Still, the pressure mounted. When a tabloid prepared to run a story, St Clair beat them to it. In February, she posted publicly on X: “Five months ago, I welcomed a new baby into the world. Elon Musk is the father.”

 

Four days later, Musk rescinded the $15 million offer. Then, he cut her monthly support—first to $40,000, then $20,000. Her legal bills passed $240,000.

 

“The timing of the reduction in payments from him are timed with disagreements on testing and gag orders,” said her attorney, Dror Bikel. “Money is being weaponised.”

 

Still, St Clair persisted. She asked the court to order a paternity test.

 

Last Friday, the results came back: 99.9 per cent probability that Elon Musk is the father.

 

A secret project, a public reckoning

 

Musk’s baby mission isn't just personal—it’s also political. He’s now one of the most powerful unelected figures in Washington, advising US President Donald Trump and running the new Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE). He wants to reshape America—and Mars.

 

At the core of it all is his belief that intelligent people must reproduce more. He’s given his sperm to high-profile women, discussed birth rate collapse at global conferences, and even fielded requests from Japanese officials looking for a donor.

 

“He believes civilisation will crumble without more babies,” said Martin Varsavsky, a Musk friend and IVF mogul.

 

Zilis, the Neuralink executive and mother of four of Musk’s children, enjoys what some call “special status.” She joins him at elite events, from pre-inauguration dinners to meetings with world leaders. She lives in the gated Austin compound Musk envisioned for his growing “kid legion.” Grimes refused to move there. So did St Clair.

 

Birchall manages it all— from cutting deals, to acquiring properties, and playing mediator between Musk and the women raising his children.

 

A new kind of family

 

For St Clair, the romance is over. The battle is just beginning.  She now finds herself in the same fight that Grimes faced—a legal maze, rising fees, and a billionaire who seems to control every step.

 

Grimes claimed Musk bankrupted her during their custody dispute. She said he withheld one of their children for five months and used her past against her in court. Their case is now sealed, with custody split by week.

 

Now St Clair is bracing for her own legal marathon. She’s not asking for fame or fortune—just fairness.  “He told me once, ‘I want to knock you up again,” she said.

 

Instead, she’s now knocking on the door of the courts, demanding that the most powerful man in the world recognise his son.  And for the first time, the world is watching.