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Conheça novas pessoas, crie conexões e faça novos amigos
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FIFTY MILLION NIGHTS
PART 2
Olivia slammed against the cold metal door the second it clicked shut behind her. The sound echoed like a gunshot in the sudden, suffocating silence. She whirled around, fumbling for a handle, a lock, anything. Nothing. Just smooth, cool metal. Seamless. Implacable.
Her breath came in sharp, ragged gasps. The sterile, lemony smell of the vast room outside was gone, replaced by something colder, emptier. This room was smaller, but still absurdly large for a prison cell. Like the main room, one entire wall was floor-to-ceiling glass, offering that same terrifying, beautiful view of Lagos glittering miles below. The lights here were dimmer, casting long, menacing shadows. The only furniture was a large, low platform covered in crisp white linens – a bed that looked more like an altar – and a single, sleek black chair that seemed to grow out of the polished dark stone floor. A closed door in the far corner probably led to a bathroom. No windows that opened. No phone. No escape.
The reality crashed over her, heavier than the sack had been. Trapped. Her legs gave way. She slid down the cold metal door until her bare bottom hit the icy floor. The shock of the cold was almost welcome. It felt real. The tears came then, hot and silent, carving paths through the dust on her cheeks. She hugged her knees, burying her face. The scratchy memory of the sack against her skin made her shudder. Emeka’s terrified voice echoed: *"Fifty million... it's bad..." How? How could he owe so much? And why take her? What could Malik Adebayo possibly think she was worth?
Minutes bled into each other. The silence pressed in, broken only by the frantic drumming of her own heart and the distant, muffled hum of the city – a constant reminder of the normal life she’d been ripped from. The luxurious coldness of the room seeped into her bones. She felt exposed, fragile, like a butterfly pinned under glass in this sterile, sky-high cage.
A soft click made her jump. Not her door. The main door to the suite. Footsteps. Slow, deliberate, echoing on the hard floor. Coming closer. Olivia scrambled upright, pressing her back against the metal door again, wiping furiously at her tears. Fear warred with a fresh surge of anger. Him.
The footsteps stopped outside her door. Silence. Then, a quiet electronic beep. The door slid open silently, revealing Malik Adebayo.
He filled the doorway, not just with his size, but with an aura of absolute control. He’d removed his suit jacket. The crisp white shirt he wore was rolled up to his elbows, revealing strong forearms. He looked relaxed, almost bored, but his dark eyes held that same unnerving intensity as before. They swept over her – huddled on the floor, tear-streaked, barefoot in her thin nightdress – with detached assessment. Like examining an object that had been slightly damaged in transit.
He didn’t enter. He simply stood there, a dark silhouette against the brighter light of the main room. The faint red mark on his cheekbone where she’d struck him was still visible. It made him look more dangerous, not less.
"Well, Miss Okoro," his deep voice cut through the silence, smooth and chillingly calm. "Have you reconsidered the cost of defiance?" He didn't sound angry. He sounded... curious.
Olivia pushed herself fully upright, forcing her trembling legs to lock. She met his gaze, refusing to flinch. "Let me go," she said, her voice hoarse but clear. "My brother’s debt isn’t mine. Taking me is... is madness!"
"Madness?" Malik’s lips twitched, almost a smile, but it never reached his eyes. He took one step into the room. Just one. It felt like an invasion. "It’s business, Olivia. May I call you Olivia?" He didn't wait for an answer. "Your brother signed contracts. He understood the terms. He failed. Spectacularly. And now," he gestured vaguely around the luxurious cell, "you ensure his cooperation. Simple leverage."
"Leverage?" Olivia spat the word. "You think keeping me locked up in this... this gold-plated cage will make Emeka magically find fifty million Naira? He doesn’t have it! That’s why he ran!" Her voice rose, echoing slightly in the bare room. "You’ve got the wrong person!"
Malik tilted his head, studying her. The intensity in his gaze sharpened. "On the contrary," he murmured, taking another slow step closer. The scent of sandalwood and something clean, sharp, like winter air, filled the space between them. "You seem precisely the right person. Emeka Okoro might be a gambler and a fool, but he loves his sister. That much, our sources assure us, is true." He stopped, less than an arm's length away now. Olivia had to tilt her head back to hold his gaze. His height, his stillness, the sheer power radiating from him was overwhelming. "He will find the money, Olivia. Or he will watch you pay the price."
The threat hung in the air, colder than the floor beneath her feet. "What price?" Olivia whispered, the defiance momentarily drowned by icy dread. "What are you going to do to me?"
Malik didn’t answer immediately. His gaze lingered on her face, tracing the tracks of her tears, the tight set of her jaw, the fire still burning in her eyes despite the fear. That flicker of something unreadable crossed his features again – a brief crack in the ice. Surprise? Intrigue? It vanished as quickly as it appeared.
"That," he said, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous purr, "depends entirely on Emeka. And," his eyes locked onto hers with unnerving focus, "on you." He let the words sink in. "Defiance has consequences, Olivia. Slapping me?" He raised a hand, not threateningly, but slowly, deliberately, tracing the air near the faint mark on his own cheekbone. "That was... unwise. It suggests you haven’t yet grasped the reality of your situation." He lowered his hand, his expression hardening back into impassive stone. "You are not a guest. You are an asset. A valuable one, currently looking slightly... distressed."
He took a final step, closing the small distance. Olivia flinched, bracing herself, but he merely reached past her. His arm brushed against her shoulder – a brief, shocking contact that felt like an electric jolt through the thin fabric of her nightdress. He pressed something on the wall beside the door. A panel slid open silently, revealing a small compartment.
Inside were two things: a simple white cotton dress, neatly folded, and a covered tray. The smell of warm, spiced jollof rice and fried plantain drifted out, incongruously normal and tempting.
"Change," Malik ordered, his voice flat, devoid of any warmth. "Eat. You’ll need your strength." He withdrew his hand, letting the panel slide shut. He looked down at her, his gaze sweeping over her disheveled state one last time. "Forty-seven hours remain, Olivia. Use them wisely. Consider the cost of further... demonstrations."
He turned without another word and walked towards the door. Just before he reached it, he paused, half-turning back. His profile was sharp against the light, the scar a pale line down his cheek. "And Olivia?" His voice was quiet, almost conversational, but it carried a weight that froze her blood. "The glass is three inches thick. Bulletproof. Soundproof. Don’t waste your energy screaming. No one out there," he nodded towards the glittering, distant cityscape, "can hear you. No one out there cares."
He stepped through the doorway. The metal panel slid shut behind him with a soft, final hiss and the quiet click of the lock engaging.
Olivia stood frozen, staring at the blank metal door. The smell of the food made her stomach clench with a confusing mix of hunger and nausea. The clean dress mocked her. His words echoed: "An asset... distressed... Consider the cost... No one out there cares."
The cold luxury of the room pressed in, more suffocating than the sack. She wasn't just trapped. She was erased. Isolated. A piece in Malik Adebayo's terrifying game. And the cost of defiance? He hadn't spelled it out, but the threat vibrated in the air he left behind.
Her gaze drifted to the vast window. Lagos glittered, alive and indifferent. No one out there cares. The words were a knife twisting in her gut. Despair threatened to pull her under.
Then, she remembered the sting of her palm connecting with his cheek. The brief, almost imperceptible flicker in his cold eyes. He hadn't expected that. He hadn't expected her.
A spark ignited in the icy pit of her fear. He thinks I'm broken. Distressed. She looked down at the compartment holding the dress and food. His orders. Change. Eat. Be a good little asset.
Olivia Okoro took a deep, shuddering breath. She uncurled her fists. Slowly, deliberately, she walked past the compartment without opening it. She ignored the clean dress, the warm food. Instead, she walked right up to the massive, unbreakable window. She placed her palms flat against the icy, thick glass. The city lights blurred through the sudden heat of fresh, furious tears, but her back straightened.
No one out there cares? Fine.
He wants a distressed asset? He wouldn't get one.
She stared down at the indifferent city, her reflection a pale ghost superimposed on the glittering sprawl. A plan, desperate and fragile, began to form in the wreckage of her panic. Not screaming. Not begging. Something else. Something he wouldn't expect.
Malik Adebayo thought he held all the cards. Olivia Okoro was starting to learn the rules of his game. And the first rule? **Never let them see you break
She turned her back on the impossible view and walked towards the sleek black chair. She didn't sit. She stood beside it, tall, looking directly at the blank metal door, as if he could still see her.
Forty-seven hours. He wanted strength? She’d show him strength. He wanted defiance? He hadn’t seen anything yet.
The gilded cage felt just a fraction less cold. The game was far from over.
TO BE CONTINUED...FIFTY MILLION NIGHTS PART 2 Olivia slammed against the cold metal door the second it clicked shut behind her. The sound echoed like a gunshot in the sudden, suffocating silence. She whirled around, fumbling for a handle, a lock, anything. Nothing. Just smooth, cool metal. Seamless. Implacable. Her breath came in sharp, ragged gasps. The sterile, lemony smell of the vast room outside was gone, replaced by something colder, emptier. This room was smaller, but still absurdly large for a prison cell. Like the main room, one entire wall was floor-to-ceiling glass, offering that same terrifying, beautiful view of Lagos glittering miles below. The lights here were dimmer, casting long, menacing shadows. The only furniture was a large, low platform covered in crisp white linens – a bed that looked more like an altar – and a single, sleek black chair that seemed to grow out of the polished dark stone floor. A closed door in the far corner probably led to a bathroom. No windows that opened. No phone. No escape. The reality crashed over her, heavier than the sack had been. Trapped. Her legs gave way. She slid down the cold metal door until her bare bottom hit the icy floor. The shock of the cold was almost welcome. It felt real. The tears came then, hot and silent, carving paths through the dust on her cheeks. She hugged her knees, burying her face. The scratchy memory of the sack against her skin made her shudder. Emeka’s terrified voice echoed: *"Fifty million... it's bad..." How? How could he owe so much? And why take her? What could Malik Adebayo possibly think she was worth? Minutes bled into each other. The silence pressed in, broken only by the frantic drumming of her own heart and the distant, muffled hum of the city – a constant reminder of the normal life she’d been ripped from. The luxurious coldness of the room seeped into her bones. She felt exposed, fragile, like a butterfly pinned under glass in this sterile, sky-high cage. A soft click made her jump. Not her door. The main door to the suite. Footsteps. Slow, deliberate, echoing on the hard floor. Coming closer. Olivia scrambled upright, pressing her back against the metal door again, wiping furiously at her tears. Fear warred with a fresh surge of anger. Him. The footsteps stopped outside her door. Silence. Then, a quiet electronic beep. The door slid open silently, revealing Malik Adebayo. He filled the doorway, not just with his size, but with an aura of absolute control. He’d removed his suit jacket. The crisp white shirt he wore was rolled up to his elbows, revealing strong forearms. He looked relaxed, almost bored, but his dark eyes held that same unnerving intensity as before. They swept over her – huddled on the floor, tear-streaked, barefoot in her thin nightdress – with detached assessment. Like examining an object that had been slightly damaged in transit. He didn’t enter. He simply stood there, a dark silhouette against the brighter light of the main room. The faint red mark on his cheekbone where she’d struck him was still visible. It made him look more dangerous, not less. "Well, Miss Okoro," his deep voice cut through the silence, smooth and chillingly calm. "Have you reconsidered the cost of defiance?" He didn't sound angry. He sounded... curious. Olivia pushed herself fully upright, forcing her trembling legs to lock. She met his gaze, refusing to flinch. "Let me go," she said, her voice hoarse but clear. "My brother’s debt isn’t mine. Taking me is... is madness!" "Madness?" Malik’s lips twitched, almost a smile, but it never reached his eyes. He took one step into the room. Just one. It felt like an invasion. "It’s business, Olivia. May I call you Olivia?" He didn't wait for an answer. "Your brother signed contracts. He understood the terms. He failed. Spectacularly. And now," he gestured vaguely around the luxurious cell, "you ensure his cooperation. Simple leverage." "Leverage?" Olivia spat the word. "You think keeping me locked up in this... this gold-plated cage will make Emeka magically find fifty million Naira? He doesn’t have it! That’s why he ran!" Her voice rose, echoing slightly in the bare room. "You’ve got the wrong person!" Malik tilted his head, studying her. The intensity in his gaze sharpened. "On the contrary," he murmured, taking another slow step closer. The scent of sandalwood and something clean, sharp, like winter air, filled the space between them. "You seem precisely the right person. Emeka Okoro might be a gambler and a fool, but he loves his sister. That much, our sources assure us, is true." He stopped, less than an arm's length away now. Olivia had to tilt her head back to hold his gaze. His height, his stillness, the sheer power radiating from him was overwhelming. "He will find the money, Olivia. Or he will watch you pay the price." The threat hung in the air, colder than the floor beneath her feet. "What price?" Olivia whispered, the defiance momentarily drowned by icy dread. "What are you going to do to me?" Malik didn’t answer immediately. His gaze lingered on her face, tracing the tracks of her tears, the tight set of her jaw, the fire still burning in her eyes despite the fear. That flicker of something unreadable crossed his features again – a brief crack in the ice. Surprise? Intrigue? It vanished as quickly as it appeared. "That," he said, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous purr, "depends entirely on Emeka. And," his eyes locked onto hers with unnerving focus, "on you." He let the words sink in. "Defiance has consequences, Olivia. Slapping me?" He raised a hand, not threateningly, but slowly, deliberately, tracing the air near the faint mark on his own cheekbone. "That was... unwise. It suggests you haven’t yet grasped the reality of your situation." He lowered his hand, his expression hardening back into impassive stone. "You are not a guest. You are an asset. A valuable one, currently looking slightly... distressed." He took a final step, closing the small distance. Olivia flinched, bracing herself, but he merely reached past her. His arm brushed against her shoulder – a brief, shocking contact that felt like an electric jolt through the thin fabric of her nightdress. He pressed something on the wall beside the door. A panel slid open silently, revealing a small compartment. Inside were two things: a simple white cotton dress, neatly folded, and a covered tray. The smell of warm, spiced jollof rice and fried plantain drifted out, incongruously normal and tempting. "Change," Malik ordered, his voice flat, devoid of any warmth. "Eat. You’ll need your strength." He withdrew his hand, letting the panel slide shut. He looked down at her, his gaze sweeping over her disheveled state one last time. "Forty-seven hours remain, Olivia. Use them wisely. Consider the cost of further... demonstrations." He turned without another word and walked towards the door. Just before he reached it, he paused, half-turning back. His profile was sharp against the light, the scar a pale line down his cheek. "And Olivia?" His voice was quiet, almost conversational, but it carried a weight that froze her blood. "The glass is three inches thick. Bulletproof. Soundproof. Don’t waste your energy screaming. No one out there," he nodded towards the glittering, distant cityscape, "can hear you. No one out there cares." He stepped through the doorway. The metal panel slid shut behind him with a soft, final hiss and the quiet click of the lock engaging. Olivia stood frozen, staring at the blank metal door. The smell of the food made her stomach clench with a confusing mix of hunger and nausea. The clean dress mocked her. His words echoed: "An asset... distressed... Consider the cost... No one out there cares." The cold luxury of the room pressed in, more suffocating than the sack. She wasn't just trapped. She was erased. Isolated. A piece in Malik Adebayo's terrifying game. And the cost of defiance? He hadn't spelled it out, but the threat vibrated in the air he left behind. Her gaze drifted to the vast window. Lagos glittered, alive and indifferent. No one out there cares. The words were a knife twisting in her gut. Despair threatened to pull her under. Then, she remembered the sting of her palm connecting with his cheek. The brief, almost imperceptible flicker in his cold eyes. He hadn't expected that. He hadn't expected her. A spark ignited in the icy pit of her fear. He thinks I'm broken. Distressed. She looked down at the compartment holding the dress and food. His orders. Change. Eat. Be a good little asset. Olivia Okoro took a deep, shuddering breath. She uncurled her fists. Slowly, deliberately, she walked past the compartment without opening it. She ignored the clean dress, the warm food. Instead, she walked right up to the massive, unbreakable window. She placed her palms flat against the icy, thick glass. The city lights blurred through the sudden heat of fresh, furious tears, but her back straightened. No one out there cares? Fine. He wants a distressed asset? He wouldn't get one. She stared down at the indifferent city, her reflection a pale ghost superimposed on the glittering sprawl. A plan, desperate and fragile, began to form in the wreckage of her panic. Not screaming. Not begging. Something else. Something he wouldn't expect. Malik Adebayo thought he held all the cards. Olivia Okoro was starting to learn the rules of his game. And the first rule? **Never let them see you break She turned her back on the impossible view and walked towards the sleek black chair. She didn't sit. She stood beside it, tall, looking directly at the blank metal door, as if he could still see her. Forty-seven hours. He wanted strength? She’d show him strength. He wanted defiance? He hadn’t seen anything yet. The gilded cage felt just a fraction less cold. The game was far from over. TO BE CONTINUED...
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After Winning Election With Agberos, He Brought Osinbajo, Edun And Cardoso To Run His Govt -El-Rufai https://phoenix-browser.com/IjxX92lzy3hAfter Winning Election With Agberos, He Brought Osinbajo, Edun And Cardoso To Run His Govt -El-Rufai https://phoenix-browser.com/IjxX92lzy3h0 Comentários 0 Compartilhamentos 111 Visualizações 0 Anterior
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Israel-Iran war: How did Iran get American F-14 'Tomcats' fighter jet, and why is it still flying them years after US retired them? https://phoenix-browser.com/DHKD5KaL5jiIsrael-Iran war: How did Iran get American F-14 'Tomcats' fighter jet, and why is it still flying them years after US retired them? https://phoenix-browser.com/DHKD5KaL5ji0 Comentários 0 Compartilhamentos 118 Visualizações 0 Anterior
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Money is the major means of catering for our everyday needs and it is capable of meeting virtually all physical needs.Money is the major means of catering for our everyday needs and it is capable of meeting virtually all physical needs.0 Comentários 1 Compartilhamentos 212 Visualizações 0 Anterior2
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BREAKING NEWS: The Country Where The Garden Of Eden And Tree Of Life Are Located
Out of Eden, to the east of Israel, rivers ran all the way to the four corners of the earth, as the story goes in Genesis about the creation of man and his fall from grace.
Similar myths found in Sumerian literature give the impression that an earthly paradise played a significant role in the mythology of ancient Middle Eastern cultures.
The story of the Garden of Eden is a theological use of elements from mythology to describe the progression of humankind from a state of innocence and joy to the current human predicament of knowledge of sin, sorrow, and..BREAKING NEWS: The Country Where The Garden Of Eden And Tree Of Life Are Located Out of Eden, to the east of Israel, rivers ran all the way to the four corners of the earth, as the story goes in Genesis about the creation of man and his fall from grace. Similar myths found in Sumerian literature give the impression that an earthly paradise played a significant role in the mythology of ancient Middle Eastern cultures. The story of the Garden of Eden is a theological use of elements from mythology to describe the progression of humankind from a state of innocence and joy to the current human predicament of knowledge of sin, sorrow, and..
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Again, Israel Kill Iran's IRGC Commander Izadi 24 Hours After Appointment Of New Intelligence Chief
In a significant escalation, Israel has assassinated Saeed Izadi, commander of the Palestinian Division in Iran’s Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps (IRGC) Quds Force, in a targeted overnight airstrike on an apartment in Qom.
Israeli Defense Minister Israel Katz confirmed the operation, stating that Izadi played a key role in funding and arming Hamas ahead of the October 7 massacre.
“A major achievement for Israeli intelligence and the Air Force. Justice for the murdered and the hostages. Israel’s long arm will reach all its enemies,” Katz declared.
The strike comes just about 24 hours after Iran appointed Majid Khademi as the new intelligence chief of the IRGC, replacing Mohammad Kazemi, who was killed in an Israeli attack earlier this week.
Kazemi himself had succeeded another intelligence chief eliminated by Israel, highlighting the rapid turnover in Iran’s security leadership amid ongoing covert warfare.
The IRGC’s intelligence wing has faced repeated decapitation strikes, with Khademi becoming the third appointee in a short span following Israel’s assassinations of his predecessors.
Katz previously revealed a 2021 intelligence document showing Hamas leaders Yahya Sinwar and Muhammad Deif requesting $500 million from I
RGC Quds Force chief Esmail Qaani to fund their war against Israel.
According to Katz, Izadi approved the request, affirming Iran’s commitment to bankroll Hamas “despite economic hardships” faced by ordinary Iranians.
The latest strike underscores Israel’s intensified campaign against Iranian operatives, signaling that no senior figure linked to Hamas’ October 7 attack is beyond reach.Again, Israel Kill Iran's IRGC Commander Izadi 24 Hours After Appointment Of New Intelligence Chief In a significant escalation, Israel has assassinated Saeed Izadi, commander of the Palestinian Division in Iran’s Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps (IRGC) Quds Force, in a targeted overnight airstrike on an apartment in Qom. Israeli Defense Minister Israel Katz confirmed the operation, stating that Izadi played a key role in funding and arming Hamas ahead of the October 7 massacre. “A major achievement for Israeli intelligence and the Air Force. Justice for the murdered and the hostages. Israel’s long arm will reach all its enemies,” Katz declared. The strike comes just about 24 hours after Iran appointed Majid Khademi as the new intelligence chief of the IRGC, replacing Mohammad Kazemi, who was killed in an Israeli attack earlier this week. Kazemi himself had succeeded another intelligence chief eliminated by Israel, highlighting the rapid turnover in Iran’s security leadership amid ongoing covert warfare. The IRGC’s intelligence wing has faced repeated decapitation strikes, with Khademi becoming the third appointee in a short span following Israel’s assassinations of his predecessors. Katz previously revealed a 2021 intelligence document showing Hamas leaders Yahya Sinwar and Muhammad Deif requesting $500 million from I RGC Quds Force chief Esmail Qaani to fund their war against Israel. According to Katz, Izadi approved the request, affirming Iran’s commitment to bankroll Hamas “despite economic hardships” faced by ordinary Iranians. The latest strike underscores Israel’s intensified campaign against Iranian operatives, signaling that no senior figure linked to Hamas’ October 7 attack is beyond reach.
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US issues security alert to citizens, asks them to avoid military bases and government facilities in Abuja... #Aidee #News #CrisisUS issues security alert to citizens, asks them to avoid military bases and government facilities in Abuja... #Aidee #News #Crisis
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TRANSFER GIST
Tottenham has agreed a deal to sign KOTA TAKAI from J-league for a few of £5m.
Hope the guy kunfu them to safety next season.
Epl commentators get readyTRANSFER GIST Tottenham has agreed a deal to sign KOTA TAKAI from J-league for a few of £5m. Hope the guy kunfu them to safety next season. Epl commentators get ready0 Comentários 0 Compartilhamentos 120 Visualizações 0 Anterior1
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“If I d!e today, my girlfriend will find another man she loves and marry in less than 1 year. My record label will sign another artist in less than 24 hours and use the money my music makes to promote him. The people I call friends today will make new friends and be happier without me. But you see my mom? She can never have another Burna Boy. That's the reason I give her everything while I'm here because I know she has only one me. I'm her only son!” — Burna Boy!
This is hard motivation for you to love your parents and your family!
Every other person can replace you except your family!
May your parents live long enough to enjoy your wins and glory!“If I d!e today, my girlfriend will find another man she loves and marry in less than 1 year. My record label will sign another artist in less than 24 hours and use the money my music makes to promote him. The people I call friends today will make new friends and be happier without me. But you see my mom? She can never have another Burna Boy. That's the reason I give her everything while I'm here because I know she has only one me. I'm her only son!” — Burna Boy! This is hard motivation for you to love your parents and your family! Every other person can replace you except your family! May your parents live long enough to enjoy your wins and glory! 🙏0 Comentários 0 Compartilhamentos 126 Visualizações 0 Anterior
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BREAKING: Abuja Pastor Amos Isah In Police Custody Over Alleged Rape Of 14-Year-Old Girl | Sahara Reporters bit.ly/4egJK8EBREAKING: Abuja Pastor Amos Isah In Police Custody Over Alleged Rape Of 14-Year-Old Girl | Sahara Reporters bit.ly/4egJK8E0 Comentários 0 Compartilhamentos 113 Visualizações 0 Anterior
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