THE DEVIL'S MISTRESS
PART 11
The silence behind the door was a living thing, thick and suffocating. Scar’s pleas had dwindled into ragged breaths, his forehead pressed against the cool wood, his powerful frame slumped in defeat. The raw vulnerability he’d shown – the begging, the panic – had scraped him hollow. He’d faced down armies, orchestrated empires built on fear, yet here he was, brought to his knees by the silence of one woman. The image of Jessica hearing Amanda’s vicious poison, the thought of her believing even a fraction of it, was a physical wound in his chest.
Then, a sound. Faint. A scrape of metal. The softest click.
Scar froze, his breath catching. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, the heavy bedroom door inched open.
Jessica stood there, backlit by the dim light filtering through the curtains. The sight tore through Scar like shrapnel. Her eyes, usually bright with intelligence or warm with affection, were swollen almost shut, raw and red-rimmed from hours of crying. Tear tracks had carved paths through the faint flush of humiliation still staining her cheeks. Her posture was defeated, shoulders slumped inward as if trying to make herself disappear. She looked impossibly young, fragile, and utterly broken. The vibrant, determined woman he loved seemed reduced to a ghost of herself.
"Jessica..." The name was a choked whisper.
Before he could say more, she flinched, taking a half-step back into the room’s shadows. The movement, the sheer *hurt* radiating from her, shattered the last remnants of his control. He surged forward, not with force, but with a desperate, aching need. He crossed the threshold and gathered her into his arms, pulling her fragile form against his chest with infinite gentleness, as if she were spun glass.
She was stiff at first, unyielding. But as his arms closed around her, as the familiar scent and solid warmth of him enveloped her, a tremor ran through her. Then another. A choked sob escaped her lips, muffled against his shirt.
"Baby,"
Scar murmured, his voice thick with remorse, his own eyes burning.
He buried his face in her hair, breathing her in, anchoring himself.
"I’m sorry. God, Jessica, I am so, so sorry."
His arms tightened, a protective cag.e
. "I should have told you. Everything. About her, about the past, about the ****** engagement
that meant nothing*
." His voice cracked.
"I was a coward. I thought… I thought if I buried it deep enough
, it would just go away.
I never imagined… I never dreamed she’d come here, that she’d…" He couldn’t even bring himself to repeat Amanda’s words.
"I’m sorry you found out like this. I’m sorry she hurt you. Please… please forgive me."
Jessica pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at him. Her tear-filled eyes searched his face, filled with a pain that mirrored his own.
"Why,
Scar?" Her voice was a raw whisper, scraped thin by tears and despair
. "Why didn't you tell me? I… I thought you loved me. I thought you trusted me."
A fresh wave of tears spilled over.
"She… she humiliated me. Called me… called me horrible things. Names I… I heard in the slums."
Her breath hitched.
"And maybe… maybe she's right? Maybe I am just a… a home wrecker?
Coming between destiny?" Her voice broke completely. "Just… just let me go, Scar. Please. Stay away from me. It’s better… it’s better this way."
"The words"
‘let me go’
were ice water down his spine. Panic, colder and sharper than any battlefield fear, seized him. His hands tightened on her arms, not to hurt, but to anchor, to keep her from vanishing.
"No!"
The word was a low roar, laced with desperation.
"You go *nowhere*, Jessica! Do you understand? *Nowhere!*"
He forced his voice down, trying to sound rational through the terror.
"It’s not safe.
Not out there alone. My enemies… they watch. They’d grab you the second you stepped foot outside unprotected.
Please, baby."
He cupped her face, his thumbs wiping away her tears, his eyes pleading.
"Listen to me. I broke it off with her five years ago. It was *over*. Finished. She was toxic, dangerous… *insane*. That’s why I sent her away. To protect people *from* her."
Jessica searched his eyes, the turmoil within her warring with the undeniable love and fear she saw reflected back.
"Then… then why is she here?" she whispered, a fresh tremor in her voice.
Scar took a deep, steadying breath.
"She’s… manipulative. She twisted things, lied, to get back. But she won’t stay. She *can’t* stay." His voice firmed with conviction. "She’ll be gone. Soon. A few days, maybe less. Her father… he’ll come for her. He knows the deal. He knows what happens if she stays." He leaned his forehead against hers, his voice dropping to an intense, intimate murmur.
"Please, baby. Please trust me, just a little longer. I love you. More than anything. More than this empire, more than my own life. You are my destiny. Not her. Never her." He kissed her forehead, her eyelids, her tear-stained cheeks, each touch a fervent vow. "Everything… everything will be alright. I swear it. I’ll make it alright."
For a moment, the world contracted to just the two of them in the dim room. Jessica leaned into him, a fragile hope battling the deep-seated hurt. His words, his touch, the raw sincerity in his eyes, were a balm on her wounded spirit. She started to nod, a tiny, hesitant movement, her fingers tightening slightly on his shirt.
Then, the spell shattered.
A sound like shattering crystal – cold, sharp laughter – echoed from the doorway. Amanda stood there, leaning casually against the frame, impeccably dressed now in tailored slacks and a silk blouse, her blonde curls perfect. She was slowly clapping her hands, a cruel, mocking smile twisting her beautiful face.
"What a touching performance,"
she drawled, her voice dripping with venomous amusement.
"Really, Sebastian,
you should be on stage. The reformed villain, the devoted lover… it’s almost believable." She pushed off the doorframe and took a step into the room, her dark eyes fixed on Jessica with predatory glee.
"News flash, darling," she spat the word at Scar, "I’m not packing my bags. I’m not going anywhere.
Did you really think I’d sit quietly in Italy while this… this gutter rat" her voice rose, sharp and hateful on the slur, "takes my place? Takes what’s mine? Scar, never—"
The crack of the slap echoed like a gunshot in the sudden, shocked silence.
Amanda’s head snapped sideways with brutal force. The mocking smile vanished, replaced by utter, stunned disbelief. A vivid red handprint bloomed across her flawless cheek. She staggered back a step, her hand flying to her face, her eyes wide with shock and dawning rage. Silence, thick and heavy, descended. Jessica gasped, frozen.
Scar stood rigid, his hand still raised, his face a mask of cold, terrifying fury. Every ounce of the feared underworld king was present in that moment, radiating lethal intent. His voice, when it came, was dangerously low, quieter than a whisper yet carrying the weight of absolute command.
"How *dare* you," he breathed,
the words slicing through the air like shards of ice.
"How dare you call my woman that filth. In my presence. In *her* home."
He took a single, deliberate step towards Amanda, who shrank back, genuine fear flickering in her eyes for the first time.
"You have exactly until tomorrow mor
ning," Scar continued, his voice gaining volume, becoming a thunderous roar that seemed to shake the room, "to be OUT of my house. Out of my city. Out of my *life*. Do you understand me? GONE!"
Amanda recovered slightly, her shock morphing into indignant fury. Her hand dropped from her cheek. "But… but Sebastian! Did you just slap me? Because of this… this dirt?!" Her voice rose hysterically.
Scar moved faster than thought. In a blur, his hand dipped beneath his jacket and came up holding a sleek, black pistol. He leveled it directly between Amanda’s wide, terrified eyes. The metallic *click* of the safety disengaging was obscenely loud.
"One. More. Word. "Scar’s voice was glacial, devoid of all emotion except lethal promise. His finger tightened on the trigger.
"One more insult. One more syllable out of your poisonous mouth. And I swear on everything I am, I *will* put a bullet in your head. Right here. Right now."
Amanda froze, her mouth hanging open in a silent scream, all color draining from her face. The raw, homicidal intent in Scar’s eyes was undeniable. He wasn't bluffing.
The standoff lasted only a heartbeat, but it felt like an eternity. Then, a choked cry broke the tension. Jessica, unable to bear the violence, the gun, the terrifying look on Scar’s face, the palpable hatred radiating from Amanda, turned and fled. She darted past Scar, past the frozen Amanda, and ran out of the bedroom door, down the hallway towards the stairs, desperate for air, for escape, for anywhere but this suffocating nightmare.
Scar’s head snapped towards her fleeing figure, the gun still trained on Amanda. "JESSICA!" he roared, the fury in his voice instantly replaced by panic. The woman he’d just sworn to protect was running headlong into the unknown, and the most dangerous threat was still standing in his bedroom, a gun pointed at her face. The sanctuary was shattered, and chaos reigned.
TO BE CONTINUED...

THE DEVIL'S MISTRESS
PART 10
The morning sun streaming through the penthouse windows felt like a lie. Jessica woke alone, the space beside her in the massive bed cold and empty. A hastily scribbled note lay on Scar’s pillow, the bold, slashing script stark against the linen: "Urgent business. Stay inside. William guards the door. - S." The initial felt like a wall. Sebastian. His real name, used by the ghost now haunting their home.
A knot of dread tightened in Jessica’s stomach. Stay inside. Like she was a prisoner again. But the thought of facing the day trapped in the bedroom, listening for Amanda’s footsteps, was suffocating. She needed air, even if it was just the curated atmosphere of the penthouse living room. She needed to feel normal, if only for a moment. Surely, she could go downstairs, make some tea, sit by the window overlooking the city she’d fought so hard to rise above.
She dressed carefully in simple, elegant trousers and a soft cashmere sweater – clothes Scar had chosen for her, clothes that felt like armor against the memory of rags. She took a deep breath, unlocked the bedroom door, and stepped into the hushed corridor. William stood rigidly a few feet away, his expression grim.
"Miss Jessica," he murmured, his voice low. "The Boss said—"
"I just want some tea, William," Jessica interrupted, forcing a calm she didn’t feel. "Downstairs. I won’t leave the penthouse." She met his worried gaze. "Please."
William hesitated, then gave a curt nod. "I’ll be right outside the living room door, Miss."
The walk downstairs felt endless. The usual opulent silence of the penthouse now felt charged, oppressive. As she reached the bottom step, the scent hit her – heavy, cloying perfume, expensive but overwhelming. And there she was.
Amanda sat regally on the central cream sofa, bathed in the morning light. She was breathtaking. Her skin, a deep, flawless mahogany, glowed against the stark cream fabric. Her hair, a cascade of meticulously defined blonde curls, framed a face of sculpted perfection – high cheekbones, a sharp jawline, full lips painted a dangerous, glossy crimson. She wore a designer red gown, short and daring, showcasing long, toned legs crossed elegantly. She looked like a fashion icon, a goddess casually inhabiting their space. She held a delicate porcelain cup, sipping coffee with an air of utter ownership.
Jessica’s breath hitched. She forced her feet to move, aiming for the kitchen doorway across the expansive room. "Good morning," she murmured, her voice barely audible, keeping her eyes downcast.
The sound of the cup being placed sharply on its saucer echoed like a gunshot. "Well, well," Amanda’s voice purred, smooth as velvet but laced with ice. "Aren’t you going to stop and greet me properly? Or do they not teach manners in the gutter?"
Jessica froze mid-step. Slowly, she turned. Amanda’s dark eyes, fringed with impossibly long lashes, raked over her with open contempt. A predatory smile played on her crimson lips.
"I said good morning," Jessica repeated, her voice firmer this time, though her heart hammered against her ribs.
Amanda laughed, a light, tinkling sound devoid of warmth. "Good morning? Is that all? Darling, when you encounter the lady of the house, you curtsy. Or at the very least, introduce yourself. Who *are* you? The new maid? Though you’re dressed rather presumptuously for a maid." Her gaze swept over Jessica’s outfit with disdain.
Jessica swallowed hard. "My name is Jessica."
"Jessica," Amanda drawled, tasting the name like it was something unpleasant. "How... ordinary. And what exactly are you doing here, Jessica?" She leaned forward slightly, her eyes narrowing. "Scrubbing floors? Warming Sebastian’s bed?"
The crudeness, delivered in that cultured, elegant tone, was a slap. Jessica felt heat flood her cheeks. "I live here," she stated, holding Amanda’s gaze, refusing to flinch.
Amanda’s perfect composure cracked. A flash of pure, unadulterated fury contorted her beautiful features. "Live here?" she spat, her voice losing its velvety smoothness, turning shrill. "In my home? With my fiancé? You insolent little SLUT!"
Jessica recoiled as if physically struck. The venom in the word was paralyzing.
"You think you can just waltz in here, you gutter rat?" Amanda hissed, rising from the sofa with feline grace, her red gown swirling around her. She stalked closer, her perfume now choking. "You think your cheap tricks and slum-bred desperation can replace me? ME?!" She stopped inches from Jessica, towering slightly in her heels. "I was chosen for Sebastian when we were SIX YEARS OLD! Our fathers bound empires! We are destiny! You?" She let out a harsh, mocking laugh. "You’re nothing! A temporary distraction! A prostitute he picked up off the streets! A gold-digging cockroach crawling where it doesn’t belong!"
Each word was a lash, meticulously designed to wound. Gutter rat. Prostitute. Gold digger. Home wrecker. They struck Jessica’s deepest insecurities, the ghosts of Lagos’s slums she thought she’d buried. Tears blurred her vision, hot and humiliating.
"Look at you," Amanda sneered, her voice dripping with contempt. "Crying already? Pathetic. You don’t belong here, you filthy little whore. You’re a stain on this house. On him." She leaned in, her voice dropping to a venomous whisper. "Pack your cheap rags and crawl back to whatever filthy hole you came from. Today. Or I swear, I will make you wish you’d never laid eyes on Sebastian Scar. Do you understand me, you slum TRASH?"
The final words, delivered with such vicious certainty, shattered Jessica’s fragile composure. The revelation of the childhood engagement – the fiancée – echoed like a death knell in her mind. *Why hadn’t he told her? The betrayal, layered on top of the searing humiliation, was too much.
A choked sob escaped Jessica’s lips. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t speak. She turned and fled, her vision swimming, Amanda’s cruel laughter ringing in her ears like the shriek of harpies. She stumbled up the stairs, past William’s shocked face, fumbling with the bedroom door handle, finally bursting into the room and slamming the door behind her, locking it with trembling fingers.
She slid down the door to the floor, her body wracked with violent sobs. The luxurious rug beneath her felt like cold concrete from her past. Fiancée. Engaged since six. Destiny. Gutter rat. Prostitute. The words swirled in her head, a toxic whirlpool dragging her down. How could he? How could he hold her, love her, whisper promises, and never mention this? Was she truly just a distraction? Was everything he’d said and done a lie? The beautiful room, the sanctuary he’d built for her, now felt like a gilded cage built on deception. The weight of Amanda’s words, the terrifying history they implied, crushed her. She cried until her throat was raw, until her head throbbed, until exhaustion pulled her into a fitful, tear-stained sleep on the floor by the door. She didn’t eat. She didn’t drink. The day passed in a blur of despair.
The sound of the penthouse door opening in the evening jolted Jessica awake. Dusk had painted the room in deep blues and purples. Her body ached from the hard floor and the emotional ravages of the day. She heard muffled voices downstairs – Scar’s deep baritone, sharp and questioning, and then Amanda’s voice, artificially bright and laced with malice.
Jessica pressed her ear against the cool wood of the door, her heart pounding anew.
"Sebastian! Darling, you’re back!" Amanda’s voice was syrupy sweet. "Did you have a productive day, burying bodies or whatever it is you do?" A tinkling laugh. "Oh, but wait! I met your little… project today. Jessica, was it?"
A beat of heavy silence. Jessica could imagine Scar freezing, his senses on high alert.
"What did you do, Amanda?" His voice was dangerously low, a growl that vibrated through the floorboards.
"Me? Nothing!" Amanda feigned innocence. "We just had a little chat. Girl to girl. Or rather," her voice dropped, turning venomous and loud, deliberately carrying, "Lady to gutter trash! Hahaha! Oh, Sebastian!" Her laughter was sharp, hysterical, filled with cruel amusement. "I’ve seen the cheap little whore you replaced me with! Hahaha! Your taste has certainly… changed! From royalty to RAGS! A slum-dwelling prostitute! Is that what gets you hard now, darling? The stink of desperation?!"
Downstairs, Scar’s world tilted. It wasn’t Amanda’s insults that terrified him; it was the knowledge that Jessica had heard them. He saw the trap Amanda had laid, the poison she’d injected directly into the heart of the only thing that mattered to him. The image of Jessica’s face, hearing those vile words – his Jessica, who carried the scars of the slums like hidden wounds, who had fought so hard for dignity – it unleashed a primal fear deeper than any enemy’s threat. The fear of loss. The terror of her pain, her disillusionment… her *leaving*.
His carefully controlled composure evaporated. The feared King of Lagos didn’t think. He *fled*. He took the stairs two at a time, his heart hammering against his ribs like a frantic bird, a cold sweat breaking out on his skin. He skidded to a stop outside their bedroom door, seeing it firmly shut. The silence behind it was more terrifying than any scream.
"Baby!" His voice was raw, stripped bare, cracking with panic. He pounded on the solid wood with his fist. *BAM! BAM! BAM!* "Open this door! Please, baby, open the door! Jessica!" The pleading, the raw desperation in his voice, was utterly alien to him. "Please! I need to talk to you! Let me explain! Please, open the door!"
He pressed his forehead against the cool wood, his breathing ragged. Guilt, thick and suffocating, washed over him in a sickening wave. He’d been a fool. A coward. He’d buried the Amanda chapter, hoping it would stay dead, never imagining Jessica would be confronted with that toxic history in the cruelest way possible. He’d wanted to protect her from the ugliness, but his silence had become the weapon Amanda used against her.
He slid down the door, mirroring Jessica’s position on the other side, his back against the wood. He could feel the faint vibration of her presence, the stifled sound of her breathing. He rested his head in his hands.
"Jessica," his voice was a broken whisper now, muffled against his palms. "I’m sorry. God, I’m so sorry. Please… please just open the door. Let me see you. Let me…" His voice choked off. How could he explain a lifetime of obligation, violence, and a broken engagement born of madness? How could he make her understand that Amanda belonged to a past he’d thought buried, a past that meant *nothing* compared to what he felt for her? The thought of her silent tears, her shattered trust, the possibility that she believed Amanda’s lies… it was a physical agony worse than any bullet wound. He was hurt, terrified for her, and utterly confused about how to mend the devastation Amanda had wrought with just a few vicious words. The mighty Scar was brought low, not by an enemy’s bullet, but by the fear of losing the woman who had thawed his frozen heart. He sat slumped against her door, a fortress of muscle and power reduced to a supplicant, whispering pleas into the uncaring wood, waiting for a sign of life from the woman who held his soul captive on the other side.
TO BE CONTINUED...

THE DEVIL'S MISTRESS
PART 9
The heavy silence left by William’s announcement didn’t lift. It pressed down on the sunlit bedroom, turning the golden warmth cold. Jessica sat frozen, the silk sheet clutched tightly around her, watching Scar’s rigid back. The shift in him was terrifying. The powerful, possessive man who had held her moments ago was gone, replaced by a statue carved from ice and tension. He hadn’t looked at her once since William spoke that name.
Amanda.
The name echoed in Jessica’s mind, sharp and poisonous. Who was she? What hold did she have over him that could shatter his invincible composure so completely? Jessica’s heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic bird trapped in a gilded cage. Fear, cold and unfamiliar in this sanctuary, began to creep in.
Scar finally moved. He stood up from the bed with a fluid, predatory grace that was devoid of its usual sensuality. He didn’t look at Jessica as he strode naked to a massive walk-in closet. Jessica watched, mesmerized and terrified, as he pulled on black trousers with sharp, efficient movements, then a crisp, white shirt that he buttoned with deliberate slowness, his fingers steady despite the storm Jessica sensed raging inside him. He buckled a sleek leather shoulder holster, sliding a heavy black pistol into place with a chilling finality. Finally, he shrugged into a perfectly tailored charcoal grey jacket. The transformation was complete: the lover replaced by the ruthless kingpin.
Only then did he turn towards the bed. His eyes, when they finally met hers, were shuttered, unreadable. The warmth, the possessiveness, the *her* that usually lived in his gaze was buried deep beneath layers of cold control.
"Jessica," his voice was low, rough, but unnervingly calm. "Stay here. Do not come out of this room. No matter what you hear. Understand?"
The command was absolute. The underlying warning was clear. Jessica nodded mutely, her throat too tight to speak. The fear solidified into a cold knot in her stomach.
Scar held her gaze for a beat longer, a flicker of something unidentifiable – protectiveness? Apology? – passing through his eyes before it was ruthlessly extinguished. He turned and walked out of the bedroom, closing the door firmly behind him. The soft click of the latch sounded like the sealing of a tomb.
Jessica scrambled off the bed, pulling on the silk robe Scar had discarded earlier. It smelled like him, a small comfort that did nothing to ease the panic fluttering in her chest. She crept towards the door, pressing her ear against the cool, heavy wood. She could hear the low murmur of voices downstairs, too indistinct to make out words, but the tone was tense, charged.
Downstairs, the opulent living room felt suddenly claustrophobic. William stood rigidly near the entrance, his face a mask of professional neutrality, but his eyes darted nervously towards the figure seated elegantly on the central cream sofa.
Amanda.
She was breathtaking. Dressed in a sheath dress of liquid silver that clung to her curves like a second skin, her dark hair cascaded in artful waves around a face sculpted with almost unreal perfection – high cheekbones, full lips painted a deep crimson, large, dark eyes fringed with impossibly long lashes. She looked like a fashion plate, a goddess descended into the mortal realm. She held a delicate porcelain cup of coffee, her posture relaxed, exuding an aura of supreme confidence. Yet, beneath the polished surface, an unnerving stillness radiated from her, like a viper basking in the sun.
Scar entered the room, his presence instantly dominating the space. He stopped several feet away from the sofa, his hands clasped loosely behind his back, his expression impassive, but his eyes were chips of black ice fixed on Amanda.
"Amanda," he stated, his voice devoid of inflection. "What are you doing here?"
She looked up, a slow, dazzling smile spreading across her perfect features. It didn't reach her eyes. "Darling," she purred, her voice like velvet over steel. "Is that any way to greet your fiancée after five long years?"
Scar didn't flinch. "That arrangement was terminated. Permanently."
Amanda placed her cup down with exaggerated care on the glass coffee table. The delicate clink sounded unnaturally loud. "Terminated?" She gave a soft, tinkling laugh that held no humor. "By you? Because of one... little... mistake? You sent me away, Sebastian." She used his real name, a calculated intimacy. "Exiled me to that dreary clinic in Italy. Was that fair?" Her smile remained, but her eyes hardened. "Look at me. I worked so hard. Therapy, Sebastian. Sobriety." She gestured gracefully to herself. "All for you. To be worthy of you again."
Scar’s gaze didn’t waver. A low growl rumbled in his chest, a sound of pure warning. "Don’t you think you’re a little late, Amanda? Things have changed. I have changed. I’ve moved on."
The air crackled. The polished mask on Amanda’s face fractured. A flash of pure, incandescent rage contorted her beautiful features for a split second, her knuckles whitening where she gripped the edge of the sofa. It was gone as quickly as it appeared, smoothed over by a brittle smile. She rose gracefully, smoothing her dress.
"Have you now?" she murmured, stepping towards him. She stopped just out of arm's reach, her dark eyes sweeping over him with possessive appraisal, then flicking dismissively around the room. "We shall see, Sebastian. We shall see." Her voice dropped, becoming a venomous whisper. "I’ve come back to take what’s mine."
She didn’t wait for a response. With the regal bearing of a queen reclaiming her throne, she walked past him towards William. "William, darling," she said airily, as if the previous five years and her violent exile had never happened. "Be a dear and have my bags brought up. The usual suite, I assume is prepared?" She didn’t wait for an answer, brushing past him and heading towards the sweeping staircase as if she owned the place.
William looked helplessly at Scar. Scar’s jaw was clenched so tightly a muscle spasmed in his cheek. He gave a single, sharp, almost imperceptible nod. William hurried after Amanda.
Scar remained standing in the center of the living room, radiating a cold, dangerous fury that seemed to vibrate the very air. He didn’t move for a long time, staring at the space where Amanda had sat, the ghost of her perfume – heavy, floral, cloying – hanging in the air, a stark contrast to Jessica’s lighter, fresher scent.
Upstairs, Jessica had retreated from the door, pacing the luxurious confines of the bedroom like a trapped animal. She’d heard the murmur of voices, the chilling clarity of that feminine purr, the unmistakable sound of footsteps ascending the stairs. Panic clawed at her throat. Fiancée? Exile?* The words screamed in her mind. Who was this woman? The fear for herself was momentarily eclipsed by a deeper, sharper pang – the fear of losing *him*, of this perfect, hard-won sanctuary being invaded and destroyed.
Hours crawled by. Jessica heard muffled voices elsewhere in the vast penthouse, the sound of doors opening and closing. The luxurious room felt like a prison. She jumped violently when her own bedroom door finally opened.
Scar stood there, framed in the doorway. The controlled mask he’d worn downstairs was still in place, but the strain showed around his eyes, in the tight set of his shoulders. He looked exhausted, haunted. He didn’t speak. He simply walked in, locked the door behind him, and crossed the room in three long strides.
He pulled Jessica into his arms with a force that stole her breath. It wasn't a passionate embrace; it was desperate, almost fearful. He buried his face in the curve of her neck, his arms banded around her so tightly she could barely breathe, crushing her against the hard planes of his chest. He trembled, a fine, almost imperceptible vibration that terrified her more than any shout.
"Sebastian?" Jessica whispered, her voice muffled against his shoulder.
He didn’t answer with words. Instead, he lifted his head and captured her lips in a kiss that was unlike any they’d shared before. It was slow, deep, achingly tender, yet underpinned by a raw, almost frantic intensity. It was a kiss of claiming, of reassurance, of desperate need. He kissed her like a drowning man clinging to air.
He lifted her effortlessly, carrying her to the bed. This time, there was no playful chase, no fierce claiming. He laid her down with heartbreaking gentleness. His touch as he removed her robe, then his own clothes, was reverent. He worshipped her body not with demanding passion, but with slow, lingering caresses that traced every curve, every scar, every inch of her skin as if memorizing it, as if it were sacred. His lips followed the same path – soft kisses on her eyelids, her temples, the pulse point at her wrist, the valley between her breasts, the sensitive skin of her inner thighs.
He took her slowly, with a depth of feeling that stole her breath and brought tears to her eyes. His eyes never left hers, dark pools reflecting a vulnerability she had never seen. He moved within her with exquisite slowness, each thrust a promise, a plea. He murmured against her skin, words breathed like prayers into the quiet room.
"I love you, baby," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, rough with a fear he couldn't name. "I love you so much." He kissed her deeply again. "You are mine. Only mine." He held her gaze, the intensity almost painful. "I will protect you. With my life. Always."
He repeated the words like a mantra as their bodies moved together in a rhythm that was pure, desperate connection. "I love you... mine... protect you..." It was a confession ripped from the deepest, most guarded part of his soul, a shield erected against the ghost that now walked his halls.
Their climax, when it came, was a slow, powerful wave that washed over them together, a shared release that felt more like a merging of souls than a physical act. He held her through it, his arms like steel bands, his face buried in her hair, his body shuddering.
Afterwards, he didn’t let go. He pulled her tightly against him, her back to his chest, his arms locked around her waist, his face pressed against the nape of her neck. His breathing gradually slowed, deepened, into the rhythm of sleep, but his hold never slackened. It was as if he feared she would vanish if he loosened his grip even slightly.
Jessica lay wide awake in the circle of his arms, his words echoing in the silence.
I love you.
He’d never said it before. He was a man of actions, not declarations. His protection, his care, his fierce possession – that was his language. Hearing the words aloud, raw and vulnerable, spoken with such desperate intensity… it shook her to her core.
The fear hadn’t left. It coiled cold and heavy beneath the lingering warmth of his love and their intimacy. Amanda’s chillingly beautiful face, her possessive words, her entitled invasion… they painted a picture of danger Jessica couldn’t yet fully see, but felt bone-deep.
Something serious was happening. Something dark from Scar’s past had erupted into their fragile present, threatening everything. The man who feared nothing slept clinging to her like a lifeline. The confession of love wasn't just a gift; it was a warning.
Jessica stared into the darkness beyond the window, the unfamiliar weight of Scar’s sleeping embrace both a comfort and a chain. His whispered promise, *"I will protect you,"* warred with the terrifying certainty that Amanda was a storm they might not weather.
Who is she? Jessica thought, her mind racing, her body acutely aware of the man who loved her and the ghost who threatened them. *What did she do? What does she want?*
The warmth of Scar’s body against her back couldn’t dispel the chilling dread. Amanda wasn’t just an ex-fiancée. She was chaos wrapped in silk. And Jessica knew, with a cold certainty that settled in her bones, that she needed to understand this enemy.
And I will find out, she vowed silently into the dark, her hand tightening slightly over Scar’s where it rested on her stomach. The battle lines, unseen but deeply felt, had been drawn.
TO BE CONTINUED...

THE DEVIL'S MISTRESS
PART 8
Sunlight, warm and honeyed, streamed through the bulletproof glass of the penthouse bedroom, painting stripes across the rumpled silk sheets. Jessica lay curled against Scar’s chest, her ear pressed to the steady, powerful beat of his heart. Months. It had been months since the night that changed everything, months since she’d knelt in gratitude and been met with a firestorm of possession that had consumed them both. Now, the air itself hummed with the intensity of their connection, a tangible force field woven from trust, fierce protectiveness, and a love that had shocked them both with its depth.
His large hand traced lazy, possessive circles on the bare skin of her back, calloused fingers whispering over the curve of her spine. "You’re thinking too loud, my little lioness," his voice rumbled, a low vibration against her temple. He hadn’t called her anything else since that first morning.
A small smile touched Jessica’s lips. "Just… happy," she murmured, nuzzling closer. The gnawing fear for her family was a dull ache now, soothed by the knowledge they were safe in the mansion he’d given them, guarded by men whose loyalty was absolute. Her own world had shrunk and expanded simultaneously – confined within the gilded fortress of his empire for safety, yet boundless within the sanctuary of his regard.
"You should be thinking about your studies," he said, his thumb brushing the corner of her mouth. He’d been relentless on this point. Weeks ago, he’d presented her with a state-of-the-art laptop and a meticulously researched list of accredited online degree programs. "Law," he’d stated, not asked. "You have the mind for it. Sharp. Analytical. You understand the cost of injustice." He saw the education not as an escape from *his* world, but as armor *within* it. "Knowledge is power, Jessica. Especially here. I won’t have you vulnerable."
She’d enrolled. The discipline forged in the slums and honed juggling escort work and school served her well. Her days now held structure: intense study sessions in the morning light, often with Scar nearby, silently reading intelligence reports or conducting hushed calls; afternoons learning the intricate, often terrifying, workings of his empire – not the violence, but the strategy, the networks, the delicate balance of power he maintained. He trusted her. Explicitly. Implicitly. He introduced her to key, vetted players not as his mistress, but as *Jessica*. The respect they showed her was born of his unwavering authority and their dawning recognition of her own quiet intelligence.
"You worry I’m not focusing enough?" she teased, tracing the infamous scar that ran down his jaw with a feather-light touch. It was a gesture of intimacy only she was permitted.
His eyes, usually so hard and assessing, softened as he looked down at her. They held a warmth reserved solely for her, a stark contrast to the chilling authority he wielded elsewhere. "I worry about many things concerning you," he admitted, a rare vulnerability in his tone. "But your mind? Never. I know the steel in it." He captured her wandering hand, bringing her knuckles to his lips. "I just want you to have everything. Everything you were denied. Everything you deserve."
The tenderness, the absolute conviction in his words, still had the power to steal her breath. This ruthless kingpin, feared across continents, whose name was whispered with dread, held her as if she were spun glass and tempered steel combined – precious and unbreakable.
The lazy tracing on her back became less idle, more purposeful. His gaze darkened, the familiar heat igniting. Months had done nothing to dim the explosive chemistry between them. If anything, the deep well of trust and affection had only made the physical connection more potent, more layered. He knew her body now with devastating intimacy, knew exactly how to unravel her, just as she knew the secret paths to melt his formidable control.
"Enough studying for today," he declared, his voice dropping to that low, dangerous register that never failed to send shivers down her spine. He rolled her gently but decisively beneath him, his weight a welcome anchor. The sunlight gilded the hard planes of his chest and shoulders as he looked down at her, his eyes burning with possessive fire. "Right now, I require your undivided attention."
Jessica laughed, a breathless, happy sound, and made a playful half-hearted attempt to wriggle away. It was a game they played. He loved the chase, even within the confines of their bed. "Demanding, aren’t you?" she teased, pushing lightly against his chest.
A predatory grin slashed across his face. He easily pinned her wrists above her head with one large hand. "Always," he growled, lowering his head to nip at the sensitive skin of her neck, sending sparks skittering through her veins. "Especially where you’re concerned." His free hand slid down her side, over her hip, igniting a trail of fire. "Now, come here, my little lioness."
He kissed her, deep and claiming, silencing her playful protests. Jessica melted into him, her body arching instinctively, meeting his hunger with her own. The world outside their sanctuary – the danger, the underworld machinations – dissolved. There was only him, the heat of his skin, the intoxicating scent of him, the overwhelming sense of belonging. His mouth moved to her collarbone, then lower, his touch both reverent and demanding. She gasped his name, her fingers tangling in his dark hair.
"Scar…"
He growled in response, the vibration against her skin tightening the coil of desire low in her belly. He released her wrists, his hands moving to cup her face, holding her gaze captive as he positioned himself. The intensity in his eyes was breathtaking – love, lust, and an absolute, terrifying possessiveness.
"Say it," he commanded, his voice thick.
"Yours," Jessica breathed, the truth resonating deep in her soul. "Always yours."
He surged forward, joining them in one powerful, claiming stroke. Jessica cried out, wrapping her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper. This was worship, this was possession, this was home. He moved with a rhythm that was both familiar and eternally new, building the pleasure with relentless precision. Her world narrowed to the feel of him, the sound of his ragged breaths, the sight of his face – fierce, focused, utterly consumed by her. She met his thrusts, her own cries mingling with his low groans, climbing higher and higher towards the inevitable, shattering peak.
Just as the tension coiled unbearably tight, poised to break, a sharp, urgent knock shattered the intimate cocoon.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Scar froze above her, his body rigid, every muscle locked. The tender lover vanished instantly, replaced by the chilling visage of the crime lord. A low, dangerous snarl ripped from his throat, pure fury radiating from him like heat from a furnace. The interruption wasn't just unwelcome; it was a cardinal sin against the sanctity he fiercely guarded around Jessica.
"WILLIAM!" Scar roared, the sound echoing off the walls, vibrating with barely leashed violence. "This better be a fucking war starting at my doorstep, or I swear to God, I will personally remove your head from your shoulders!"
Jessica flinched at the raw fury, the sudden shift from passionate lover to deadly predator always jarring, even now. She placed a calming hand on his sweat-slicked chest, feeling the thunderous beat of his heart beneath her palm. "Scar," she murmured softly, trying to diffuse the atomic tension radiating off him. "Just… let him say what it is."
Scar’s jaw clenched so tight Jessica heard his teeth grind. He didn’t move off her, his body still intimately connected, his gaze fixed murderously on the door. After a tense, silent beat where Jessica half-expected the heavy wood to splinter under his glare, he finally barked, "Come in!" The command was a whip-crack.
The door opened cautiously. William, Scar’s imposing second-in-command, stood framed in the doorway. His face, usually impassive, was pale, etched with a tension Jessica had rarely seen. His eyes flickered towards the bed for a microsecond, registering the scene – his boss pinning Jessica beneath him, both flushed and clearly interrupted – before snapping back to Scar’s face with rigid discipline. He looked profoundly uncomfortable, acutely aware he was treading on lethally thin ice.
"Sir," William began, his voice strained. He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. "I apologize… profoundly… for the intrusion. But…"
"SPIT IT OUT, WILLIAM!" Scar snarled, his patience evaporated. The hand not braced beside Jessica’s head curled into a fist.
William flinched almost imperceptibly. He took a breath, steeling himself, his gaze locking onto Scar’s. The news he delivered was delivered in a flat, urgent tone, cutting through the charged air like a shard of ice:
"It’s Amanda, sir. She’s returned."
The effect was instantaneous and terrifying.
Scar didn’t move. He didn’t breathe. The fury that had consumed him a second ago vanished, replaced by a sudden, profound stillness that was infinitely more frightening. The color drained from his face beneath his tan, leaving his scar stark and livid. The possessive fire in his eyes extinguished, replaced by a chilling, hollow shock that Jessica had never witnessed before. It was the look of a man who’d seen a ghost – a ghost capable of unraveling everything.
"What?" The word was a whisper, devoid of its usual power, rough with disbelief. He pushed himself off Jessica abruptly, sitting upright on the edge of the bed, his back rigid, facing away from her. His broad shoulders were taut as steel cables. "When? When did she leave Italy?"
William shifted his weight. "Just confirmed, sir. She landed privately an hour ago. We don’t know her destination yet, but… she’s here. In Lagos."
The silence that followed was deafening, thick with unspoken history and looming catastrophe. Jessica sat up slowly, pulling the sheet around her, her own heart pounding against her ribs. She stared at Scar’s rigid back, the sudden distance yawning between them colder than any physical separation. The name hung in the air, charged with an ominous weight she couldn’t comprehend.
Amanda.
Who was she? What power did this name hold that it could fracture the invincible composure of Mr. Scar in an instant? The sanctuary of their love, so fiercely guarded just moments before, suddenly felt fragile, exposed to a storm Jessica couldn’t yet see. The trust, the safety, the future they were building – all suspended on the razor’s edge of this single, devastating name.
TO BE CONTINUED...

Wahala no di finish

I went to this restaurant to eat and when I finished, I made the first payment and before it could conclude, the MOMO network was misbehaving. I had to redo the transaction and paid 4,500 FRS.

Later that evening, I got a double alerts. The both payments actually went through.

I went the next day and complained and they told me they’ll check as the accountant wasn’t on seat. I said no wahala. I left.

One week later, I didn’t hear from them. I went back. They told me to hold on while they check.

They did and told me the money actually all went through but the problem is that the accountant wasn’t not on seat but I should drop my account details.

I told them, this you people’s seat must be very hot for accountant not to be ever available. I dropped my account details and left.

I went back there yesterday and asked why they’ve not sent my money and they said the account will do it shortly. That I just missed the person.

I said okay. I ordered what I wanted to eat plus takeout.
When I finished, they asked me to pay.

Me: who will I pay when the accountant is not on seat? Who will collect the money?

The lady: The accountant doesn’t need to do that. We can all receive payments.

Me: Okay. How much is my total?

Her: 5,000 FRS

Me: You people owe me 5,000. If you deduct it, it means I’m owing 500 FRS.

Her: We can’t deduct. You have to pay and the accountant will refund you please.

Me: AHH. That means you people will arrest me na. I brought out my two hands and kept on the table for her to handcuff me.

She: We account for everything we sell. If we don’t reconcile today’s payment, they’ll fine us.

Me: Are you people owing me 4,500 FRS? Yes. Why are you doing like you don’t know maths? You’re owing me 4,500. I don chop 5,000. Case closed.

I carried my bag and stood up.

One guy came out from one corner.

Him: But even if we’re to deduct, you’ll have to balance us 500 FRS

Me: You’re who again?

Him: I’m the accountant.

Me: Ahhh (I screamed in a very dramatic way) You’re around sir? Please give me one water and follow me to the car let me give you 500 and another 500 for the water. Add the water to my bill.

We came outside and he was sweating.

Me: 500 eh? Are you thirsty? You can have my water.

Him: Yes Sir. Total of 1,000. He collected the water.

Me: Oya na, see you next time.

Him: The money Sir. 1,000.

Me: Sorry. Remind me your role again.

Him: Accountant

Me: The one that’s not always on seat right? Pay them 1,000 when you enter inside. 500 for my balance and 500 for the water you collected from me. As your seat is usually hot and you can’t sit on it, pour the cold water on your sit make e cool down so that you can be staying “on seat” Is the maths clear accountant?

Him:

By the way that was just for your laughing pleasure because truly wahala no di finish.

It's the start of another week.

Let nothing steal your joy; not your tiredness, boss, friend, children, partner etc.

And remember to love deeply, laugh like no man's business and live like there's no tomorrow.

Wishing you a fun-filled week.

Make More Money as a Man, How to Improve Your Net Worth as a Man

We just rounded up the gentlemen's summit. I wanted to drive this discussion.

Let me share a powerful practice I do every year & also teach my coaching clients.

At the end of each year, I make it a point to calculate my net worth and compare it with the previous year’s figure. This practice isn’t just about numbers; it’s about tracking progress and making smart financial decisions.

After calculations, my 2023 net worth is….. Ahahaha that is classified information for now. Go calculate yours. See formula below.

You see, as we navigate through life, especially as young adults in Cameroon and Africa and even across Europe, America, Middle East etc, understanding our financial health is crucial. A key aspect of this is knowing our net worth.

So, what is net worth? Simply put, it’s the total value of what you own (your assets) minus what you owe (your liabilities).

Let me clarify this. When we hear Forbes mentioning millionaires or billionaires, they’re referring to net worth, not the cash in someone’s bank account.

Calculating your net worth is straightforward: Assets minus Liabilities equals Net Worth.

But there's also something called 'liquid net worth'. I like talking about this.

This is the part of your net worth that’s readily available in cash or cash equivalents. For example, if you have savings in a bank account or investments that can be quickly converted to cash without significant loss, that’s your liquid net worth.

Regularly calculating your net worth has impactful benefits. It provides a clear picture of your financial standing, helping you make informed decisions.

Here are four practical ways to improve your net worth, even amidst inflation and economic challenges across Cameroon and other countries:

a) Budget Wisely: Create a realistic budget that prioritizes savings and investments. Stick to it! It requires self discipline.

b) Invest Smartly: Look for investment opportunities that balance risk and return. Diversify your portfolio to protect against market volatility. This point B is for people that have been saving and have some money to invest. If not, start saving with an investment plan in mind.

c) Reduce Liabilities: Focus on paying off high-interest debts. Avoid accumulating unnecessary debts. Stop buying liabilities oh.
Watch this video: “26 Mistakes Getting Poor People Into More Debt & How to Get Out”
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ecJc6Wjn55c&t=340s

d) Increase Assets: Explore additional income streams. This could be a side business or freelance work. Buy assets like land, equity, stock, shares etc. Just explore.

e) Increase Your Net Worth Potential: Many people don't talk about this. Also known in elite wealth circles as your "Wealth Activation Index. This is not your current net worth.
This is your monetizable capacity, the income-generating potential buried in your skills, expertise, experiences, relationships, and unique intellectual capital.

Net Worth Potential is the projected financial value of your existing high-income skills, rare knowledge, and monetizable experience if strategically deployed and consistently monetized over time.

Remember, improving your net worth is a journey. Start small, stay consistent, and watch your financial health grow!

Net Worth Framework (Expanded):
You can now structure your net worth conversation like this:

a. Tangible Net Worth – Assets minus liabilities (bank, land, stock, etc.)

b. Liquid Net Worth – Readily available cash/cash equivalents

c. Net Worth Potential – Your hidden, deployable wealth locked in skills, experiences, and solutions

Your 2025 should be different abeg...especially financially.

What did you pick out?

Link to the 3 days Gentlemen Summit of Influence & Income:
https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLnBahpwHlhC6UK8lsLEfGUkOZELXV7sOW

Cheers

Dr. Javnyuy Joybert
I Help Experts & Institutions to Extract, Package & Monetize Specialized Value | Book Me to Train, Coach & Speak |

#Money #Wealth #prosperity

*SOME NIGERIAN NEWSPAPER HEADLINES+, 17/06/2025*

Bloodletting: Tinubu shifts Kaduna trip, heads for Benue

Seven killed, two missing in fresh herdsmen attack in Enugu

Inflation drops to 22.97% in May, says NBS

Naira appreciates to N1,585/$ in parallel market

Marketers fear business shutdown, reject Dangote’s fuel distribution plan

Relentless Al Hilal prepare new €50m Osimhen salary offer

Israel-Iran war: 330,000 flee Tehran, oil price drops 4%

Harvard secures extension of court order halting Trump’s foreign student ban

Ugandan President signs law allowing civilians trials in military court

Africa’s $400bn reserves held abroad hinder development – Afrieximbank

Nigeria invites B’Faso, Niger to economic summit despite ECOWAS exit

Nigerian arrested with N1.8bn drugs in India risks 20-year jail

EU, Germany launch energy networks to boost Kano economy

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*DID YOU KNOW?*

* In Rwanda, Kinyarwanda is the national language and is spoken by nearly all Rwandans. While in 2008, English became the language of instruction in schools, French was previously the primary language in education and administration.

* That fresh, earthy smell after rain is due to a compound called geosmin, produced by soil bacteria – and our noses are extremely sensitive to it.
-------------------------

Use Sovereign Wealth to Build Africa, Tinubu urges African nations

Tinubu Declares State Policing A Necessity, Demands Constitutional Reforms

Reps quiz NEXIM, transport ministry over N500m ECOWAS road fund

Alleged murder plot: Senator Natasha’s planned arraignment stalled

Court rejects FG’s request to order Senator Akpoti-Uduaghan’s arrest

Emefiele gets N2bn bail in 753-unit estates suit

Court halts Ecobank’s N6.3bn shares suit pending appeal

Court asked to stop demolition of 18.8-hectare estate for Lagos-Calabar coastal road project

EFCC arraigns Ponzi scheme director for alleged N13.8b Fraud in Port Harcourt

Chidinma denies stealing Ataga’s devices, claims ownership in court

Benue bloodbath: CDS, IG launch cross-border manhunt for killers

Benue massacre: IGP orders deployment of additional manpower

IGP, speakers’ chairman disagree over state police proposal

Politicians now launder billions through Yahoo boys – EFCC

Edun, Cardoso meet to deepen fiscal-monetary policy coordination as inflation slows

We must seek alternative way of funding the police, says Tunji-Ojo

Tuggar expresses Nigeria’s readiness to host WAEF

NEITI: TETFund got over ₦1trn from education tax in five years

Youth dialogue begins as FG opens confab portal

FCCPC summons Air Peace over flight cancellations, unpaid refunds

SEC eyes cross-border trade with stablecoin framework

FIRS extends tax office operations to weekends in June

PTAD pays NGN8.6 billion arrears of NGN32,000 pension increment

Donate blood three times yearly, UNIMEDTH urges public

UNICAL clinical lecturers begin strike over exclusion from VC recruitment

Fake procurement jobs: UNILAG raises alarm over impersonation of VC

Enough of killings in Benue, others – NANS

NMA, Abuja hospital clash over alleged unlawful dismissal of doctors

Obasanjo to commission specialist hospital, key roads in Zamfara

ACF, Sultan condemn Yelwata killings, urge urgent security action in Benue

Benue Killings: Perpetrators Not Herders But Terrorists – North Central Forum

Meta introduces paid channels, promoted content on WhatsApp

‘Buy made-in Nigeria’ policy directly violates AfCFTA – NECA

48 students emerge as quarterfinalists in Cowbellpedia 2025 quiz

Chams plans N3.99bn rights issue

Oshiomhole missed flight, didn’t check in online – Air Peace manager

Telcos hit by 37% rural energy cost surge – Report

PETROAN Kicks Against Dangote Refinery’s Distribution Plan

No plan to defect to APC, says Damagum

2027: APC talks tough as pressure mounts over Tinubu’s running mate

Tight security as Lagos APC unveils LG candidates

Okpebholo returns missionary schools to churches after decades

Mutfwang resets Plateau health sector with N2bn state-of-the-art equipment

Aiyedatiwa okays OSOPADEC N33bn budget, inaugurates board

Zamfara gov unveils refurbished women affairs ministry’s secretariat

Cult clashes: Lagos Assembly summons police commissioner

Lagos Assembly summons Uber, Bolt, others over labour rights violations

Kefas laying foundation for Taraba’s future – Commissioner

Niger begins immediate repair of storm-damaged Bida road, blames contractor for flooding

LASG suspends planning approvals along Lagos-Calabar coastal road

Jigawa renovates 587 flood-damaged schools, recruits 3,420 teachers

Jigawa reallocates misused farmlands to farmers

Jigawa demarcates 1,200 hectares for grazing, 49km for cattle routes

Bauchi bans farming activities along road setbacks

Yobe civil servants sit for exams on career growth

Sokoto opens door to dialogue with repentant bandits

Over 370 pupils to compete in Lagos sports festival

Police arrest 14 suspected Benue protest hijackers

Worshippers escape death as building collapses on church in Lagos

Bricklayer bags life jail for defiling neighbour’s eight-year-old daughter

Police inspector shot dead by 10-year-old son in Anambra

Employees kill 56-year-old farmer over N900,000 in Edo

Oyo cyclist targets Guinness World Record

-------------------------

*TODAY IN HISTORY*

* On this day in 1885, the Statue of Liberty arrived in New York. Hundreds of thousands of spectators welcomed the emblematic statue, which was a gift to the United States from the people of France and has become one of the country’s most recognized symbols.

-------------------------

Why can’t we all just get along? – Rodney King

Good morning

*Compiled by Hon. Osuji George [email protected], +234-8122200446*

Who were the Top Iranian Generals Killed in Israeli Strikes?

Israel’s targeted attacks on Iran’s nuclear and missile infrastructure early Friday took out at least 20 senior Iranian commanders, inflicting a significant blow to Tehran's governing theocracy.

The Israel Defense Forces strikes took out Gen. Hossein Salami, the leader of the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps (IRGC), who had a history of threatening the U.S. and Israel.

Gen. Mohammad Bagheri, the chief of staff of the Iranian armed forces, was also killed. His death further escalates the gravity of the strikes and their implications for Iran’s military structure.

Ali Hajizadeh, the head of the IRGC Aerospace Force, was also killed, as was Lt. Gen. Gholamali Rashid, who was the head of the IRGC's Khatam-al Anbiya Central Headquarters, which coordinates joint Iranian military operations.

Their deaths came amid Israeli Defense Forces launched a sweeping strike on Iran , called "Operation Rising Lion." It followed months of attempted, and seemingly failed, nuclear negotiations between the Trump administration and Tehran. Israel said it launched the strikes to target Iran’s nuclear and missile infrastructure.

Gen. Hossein Salami, Commander-in-chief of the IRGC

Salami was the commander-in-chief of the IRGC since his appointment in 2019 by Supreme Leader Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, overseeing Iran’s elite military force.

His appointment came shortly after President Donald Trump pulled out of the Iran nuclear deal and designated the IRGC as a terrorist organization.

Salami first joined the IRGC during the Iran-Iraq War in the 1980s, rising through the ranks to lead the IRGC’s air forces and later its entire command.

The IRGC is one of the country’s most powerful centers. It was created after its 1979 Islamic Revolution and has evolved from a paramilitary, domestic security force into a transnational force that has come to the aid of Tehran’s allies in the Middle East, from Syria and Lebanon to Iraq, per the Times of Israel .

It operates in parallel to the country’s existing armed forces. It controls Iran’s arsenal of ballistic missiles, which it has used to attack Israel twice during the Israel-Hamas war in the Gaza Strip.

Under Salami’s leadership, the IRGC evolved into a powerful transnational force, deeply involved in supporting Iran’s regional allies in Syria, Lebanon and Iraq. The Guard also maintains control over Iran’s expansive ballistic missile arsenal, which has been deployed in strikes against Israel — most notably during the Israel-Hamas war — and serves as a central pillar of Iran’s deterrence strategy.

Salami was also known for his aggressive rhetoric toward both Israel and the United States, publicly calling for the destruction of Israel as early as 2016. After the U.S. killed Qassem Soleimani, commander of the IRGC’s elite Quds Force, in a 2020 drone strike, Salami vowed retaliation. Just five days later, Iran launched ballistic missiles at U.S. bases in Iraq and warned that American and Israeli commanders would be targeted in future reprisals.

In one of the most aggressive actions attributed to him, Salami ordered a massive retaliatory strike last year, launching more than 300 drones and missiles after Israel killed seven Iranian generals in an airstrike on an Iranian diplomatic compound in Syria.

Gen. Mohammed Bagheri, chief of staff of Iranian Armed Forces

Bagheri has served as the Chief of Staff of the Armed Forces since 2016, coordinating operations across the army, IRGC, and air defenses.

He was a veteran of the 1979 Islamic Revolution and held multiple senior roles in intelligence and strategic command.

Bagheri was instrumental in shaping Iran’s military doctrine and led efforts to modernize its missile and air defense systems. He represented Iran in military coordination with allies like Russia and Syria, particularly during joint operations in the Syrian Civil War.

As the brain behind Iran’s strategic military posture, Bagheri was on Israel’s radar for years as a high-value target.

Brig. Gen. Amir Ali Hajizadeh, head of Iranian Aerospace Force

Hajizadeh oversaw Iran's Aerospace Force, a powerful military branch responsible for its ballistic missile arsenal, drone programs and space-based military initiatives. He led the branch since 2009.

The IDF said that Hajizadeh had gathered in an underground command center overnight with other senior officials to prepare for an attack on Israel when IAF fighter jets struck the location.

The IDF said that the IRGC aerospace force was responsible for repeated attacks against Israeli civilians. Notably, Hajizadeh and his subordinates commanded Iran’s direct missile and UAV attacks against Israel in October 2024 and direct missile strike in April 2024.


After Soleimani’s killing, he helped coordinate Iran’s ballistic missile retaliation against U.S. bases in Iraq.

Additionally, when Iran shot down a Ukrainian passenger jet in 2020, Hajizadeh publicly accepted blame, saying the mistake was made by a subordinate. All 176 people on board were killed.

Lt. Gen. Gholamali Rashid, commander of Iran's Khatam al-Anbiya central Headquarters

Rashid led the Khatam al-Anbiya Central Headquarters, a key strategic command center within Iran's military, tasked with planning and coordinating joint military operations within the Iranian forces.

He was a veteran and influential decision-maker during the Iran–Iraq War and later became part of Iran’s senior military leadership network. He was sanctioned by the Treasury Department in 2019.

Several nuclear scientists were also killed in the strikes, representing a significant blow to Iran's nuclear development program.

The Associated Press contributed to this report.

Breaking News

Ali Shadmani, who was recently appointed as the head of Iran's Khatam al-Anbiya Central Headquarters, replacing Gholam Ali Rashid has been EXECUTED by Israel .

Less than a week ? This is sad . It’s time for this senseless war to stop .

Moral lesson. Iran is truly suffering at the moment . May be a deal should be made .

In secondary school, I fell deeply in love with a boy. The kind of love that felt all-consuming. He made me feel seen, wanted, special. Then one day, he brought up the idea of a blood oath.

He looked me in the eyes and said,
“If we do this, nothing will ever come between us. We’ll be bound forever.”

At 16, those words sounded romantic. But deep down, something in my spirit just didn’t sit right. My aunty saw the text message and confronted me.. when I was mumbling she gave me a resetting slap that cleared my eyes and that was the last time we talk about anything blood oat.

I still didn't broke up with him and A month later, we had a massive fight and broke up. I was heartbroken but still hopeful—we were young. Maybe we’d find our way back to each other.

We never did.

Growing up without my parents, I lived with my aunt. I didn’t have much guidance, just a young girl trying to navigate life on her own.

Fast forward several years… I had grown, built a life, found my purpose. Then one day, I stumbled across his Instagram. Out of curiosity, I clicked on his profile...

And I froze.

The person staring back at me looked nothing like the boy I once loved. He looked lost, unkempt, like life had dragged him through every corner of pain.

And in that moment, I asked myself,
“Is this the same person I almost tied my entire destiny to with a blood oath?” Nancy Isime

Moral lesson- Her Aunty deserve one cold Heineken

#tinglespicey #mazitundeednut #fyp2025 #nonsmiraj #nollywoodonline #PulseViral #nollywoodcelebrities #fyp #viralchallenge #viral

Italian Relationship:
1st day= Séx
2nd day= Séx again.

French Relationship:
1st day = movies & kiss
2nd day = Séx
3rd day = Séx again

British Relationship:
1 day= hangout & kiss
2nd day = kiss & hug
3rd day= kissing, hug and smooching
4th day = séx and more séx

American Relationship:
1st day= Date
2nd day= Hug
3rd day= Hug again (warmly)
4th day= Kiss
5th day= Long kiss
6th day= Séx

African Relationship:
Especially Nigeria
1st day= Toast
2nd day= Toast
3rd day= Toast again
4th day= Agree
5th day= Date
6th day= Date again
7th day= Date again with three of her hungry friends or cousins.
8th day= Date & Hug
9th day= Tried to peck but failed.
10th day = Peck
11th day= Tried to kiss but failed.
12th day= kiss
13th day= Long kiss
14th day= Tried to have séx but failed.
15th day= Tried to have sèx but quarrelled
16th day= Didn't talk to each other
17th day= Malice till the next day
18th day= The man called but the woman didn't pick
19th day= The man called, the woman picked and asked: "what is it?"
The man apologize and the replied: "Leave me alone, am not that type of girl"
The man continued to beg till the next day.
20th day= The woman accepted the unwarranted apology
21st day= Hug
22nd day= Long hug
23rd day= Kiss
24th day= Long kiss
25th day= Tried to have séx but the woman complains that her phone is bad. Guy promises to buy her a new one.
26th day= Tried to have séx but the woman said until he buys the phone
27th day= Tried to have sèx but the woman asked: "where is the phone? U are not serious, call me when you are serious"
28th day= Ràpe.
29th day= Police case Prince Lee Wizkid Fc

Two old men are sitting in a bar.
One of them looks at the other & says
“You look familiar… where you from?”
The second old man replies “Ireland”
The first old man looks astonished & says
” No way I’m from Ireland myself, what a small world!”
The second old man then looks at the first “What city?”
The first old man says “Dublin?”
The second old man looks astonished
“No way I’m from Dublin meself! What a small world.”
The first man looks at the second old man “What school you go to?”
The second old man replies
“Saint Mary’s class of 89”
The first old man is absolutely baffled
” NO WAY Saint Mary’s class of 89 myself! What a small world!”
At this point, another man comes into the bar & says to the bartender
“Hey, Joe! Anything interesting going on?”
The bartender says
“Not really… but the Murphy twins are drunk again.”