Prior to Elon Musk ascending to the status of the wealthiest individual globally, a technological visionary enveloped by rockets, electric vehicles, artificial intelligence projects, and a history of romantic relationships and offspring, he was merely a young man in love. His initial marriage to Canadian author Justine Musk commenced in 2000 and concluded in 2008.

This union was marked by both aspirations and sorrow, as they brought six 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥ren into the world—one of whom sadly died in infancy. Nevertheless, despite her contributions as a mother, spouse, and early advocate for the man who would eventually oversee a $364 billion enterprise, Justine departed with little more than a shattered heart and a painful lesson in trust.

The narrative of Justine Musk transcends being a mere footnote in the life story of a tech titan. It embodies a saga of unwavering belief, legal misjudgments, and a stark reminder of how even the closest relationships can suffer collateral damage in the pursuit of extraordinary power.

Central to this unfolding narrative is a singular document: a post-nuptial agreement executed in 2000, just months following the couple’s marriage. For Justine, it represented a mere formality—a symbol of trust in the man she believed would remain loyal. ‘We were soulmates,’ she later reflected. ‘Divorce was not an option for us.’

However, they did part ways. That document—signed in sincerity and love—ultimately cost her dearly. At that time, Elon Musk was an emerging figure in Silicon Valley, having co-founded Zip2 with his brother Kimbal and subsequently selling it for $300 million. Elon received $20 million from this transaction and quickly embraced a lavish lifestyle—acquiring a McLaren F1 for $1 million and relocating to an upscale apartment in Palo Alto.

CNN even captured the moment the car was delivered, with Justine by his side. She cautioned then that such rapid wealth could skew one’s values, and her instincts proved to be painfully accurate. The marriage, while appearing perfect on the surface, concealed significant underlying issues.

Justine supported Elon in his unyielding pursuits, relocated with him to Los Angeles, and gave 𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡 to their 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥ren—twins and triplets—while striving to maintain her career as a novelist. Between 2005 and 2008, she authored three books, juggling her literary aspirations with the responsibilities of a household expanding under the weight of one man’s relentless ascent.

She observed him crash the million-dollar McLaren. She gave 𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡 to five 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥ren who are alive. She held a belief, perhaps more than anyone else, that he was meant for greatness. However, belief does not cover expenses. Furthermore, love, once relinquished through a signature, holds no legal validity.

Even more unsettling is how Elon Musk appeared to follow a similar pattern with other partners. He proposed $15 million and a monthly allowance of $100,000 to Ashley St. Clair in exchange for her silence regarding their 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥. When she chose to speak out, he rescinded the offer. Talulah Riley married him twice and ultimately received a settlement comparable to what Justine obtained from two legal battles.

Grimes, the innovative pop artist, had three 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥ren with him but never received an engagement ring. Shivon Zilis, the Neuralink executive who gave 𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡 to four of his 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥ren, now resides on a private estate in Texas—near Elon, yet strangely secluded. Throughout all of this, Elon Musk persisted in his ambition to populate the world—or colonize Mars—with his own lineage.

With fourteen confirmed 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥ren, multiple mothers, and a vision of a future brimming with Musks, the narrative of Justine—the first and now overlooked—gradually diminishes.

However, we recall. We recall that prior to SpaceX, prior to Tesla, prior to Dogecoin and Twitter/X, there was Justine. She was neither an investor, nor an engineer, nor a celebrity. She was a wife, a mother, a believer.

She placed her faith in a man who would eventually become too significant to require her, and that faith cost her dearly. She did not lose everything in the conventional sense. She reconstructed her life, nurtured her 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥ren, and authored books. Yet, she forfeited the future she had a hand in creating. Not due to greed.

Not due to negligence. But because she had faith in love. A conviction that, when documented and endorsed in good faith, ultimately became her most significant burden. Thus, the question persists—did Elon Musk mislead her, or did she merely place too much trust in him? That answer may remain elusive. However, one fact is certain: within Musk’s empire, even the queens can be erased from the narrative with a mere signature.