*"He shall deliver thee in six troubles: yea, in seven there shall no evil touch thee.In famine he shall redeem thee from death: and in war from the power of the sword."*
_Job 5:19 - 20_

I welcome you to this new day and new week, it shall be your day and week of fulfillment in Jesus' Name. The Lord will keep you from all trouble and He will not allow evil to touch you in Jesus' Name. Premature death shall not be your portion and famine will be far away from you. Jehovah Sabbaoth - the Lord of Host will deliver you from war in Jesus' Name. Amen.
As the Grace and Mercy of God has counted you worthy to be among the living this morning, the same Grace and Mercy will place you among the recipient and glory of His Presence. He will protect you and bless you with all good blessings. The Lord will cause all the people that have been threatening you in any capacity to lose their relevance. Their weapon of threat will become obsolete, and the Lord will deliver you through an object that will humiliate them and make you their lord. The Lord will make you have peace and stabilise you in the place of threat in Jesus' Mighty Name. Amen.
This week, the Lord will command the wind of Favour to rise from all corners of the earth and locate you and your family for good. By His Grace, you will dig and always find water. You will plant and reap plenty. God will open His doors of opportunities unto you and your household. The presence of the Lord shall be upon you and His hands of Love shall uphold you for good in Jesus' Name. Amen.

*Have A Greati Monday And Fruitful Week. God bless you. AMEN.*

_GOOD AFTERNOON.

I WAS ERASED BY MY OWN SISTER
PART 6
Nneka sat on the cold floor of her padded cell, her fingers tracing the cracks in the wall like a map to freedom. Months had passed since Ngozi stole her life, and every day in this hellhole chipped away at her sanity. The drugs made her weak, but they couldn’t kill her will to survive.
She had stopped screaming.
She had stopped begging.
Now, she was planning.
Then, one day, hope walked in wearing scrubs.
Nurse Adaeze was new to the psychiatric ward. Young, observant, and kind-hearted, she treated patients like humans, not animals.
One evening, as she handed Nneka her medication, she paused.
"You don’t seem like the others here," she whispered.
Nneka lifted her hollow eyes. "Because I don’t belong here."
Nurse Adaeze studied her face—the sharp cheekbones, the faint birthmark on her left wrist. Then, her eyes widened.
"Wait… I know you."
Nneka’s breath hitched.
"You’re Nneka Okoye. The founder of Naturé by Nneka. I use your products!"
Tears welled in Nneka’s eyes. For the first time in months, someone saw her.
"Please… help me," Nneka begged, clutching Nurse Adaeze’s hand. "My sister did this to me. She stole my life."
Nurse Adaeze hesitated. She knew the risks. But looking into Nneka’s desperate eyes, she made a decision.
"I’ll get you out."
Over the next few days, Nurse Adaeze smuggled in small things—a phone, a change of clothes, a forged discharge form.
"There’s a back exit near the laundry room," she whispered. "Cameras are broken. Tomorrow night, when Dr. Bello is on duty—he never checks the records properly."
Nneka memorized every detail. This was her only chance.
Meanwhile, the drugs they forced into her system made her limbs heavy, her thoughts slow. But she fought through the fog.
"I have to escape… I have to make Ngozi pay."
While Nneka plotted her escape, Emeka sat in his study, staring at divorce papers.
The woman he married—or thought he married—was not the Nneka he fell in love with.
This Nneka was reckless.
This Nneka was cruel.
This Nneka didn’t love him.
She partied all night, spent money like water, and barely remembered his name.
"Where were you last night?" he had asked her the day before.
"Out," she shrugged, not even looking up from her phone.
That was the moment he knew.
He had married a stranger.
That evening, Ngozi stumbled in at 3 AM, drunk, her dress disheveled, lipstick smeared.
Emeka stood in the hallway, arms crossed.
"We need to talk."
Ngozi rolled her eyes. "Ugh, not this again. What now?"
"I want a divorce."
The words hung in the air like a death sentence.
Ngozi froze. Then, she laughed—a sharp, mocking sound.
"You’re joking, right? After everything I’ve done for you?"
"What have you done, exactly?" Emeka snapped. "Spent my money? Ignored me? Destroyed Nneka’s business?"
Ngozi’s smirk faded.
"Wait… what did you just say?"
Emeka’s eyes narrowed.
"I said Nneka’s business. Not yours. Because let’s be honest… you were never half the woman she was." I don't know this nneka standing before me
Ngozi’s face twisted in rage.
"You have no idea what you’re talking about!"
But Emeka was done.
"Pack your things. I want you out by morning."
Back at the asylum, Nurse Adaeze slipped Nneka a set of keys.
"Tonight. Be ready."
Nneka’s heart pounded.
This was it.
Freedom.
Revenge.
As the clock struck midnight, Nurse Adaeze disabled the alarms. Nneka changed into the clothes she had hidden, slipped out of her cell, and followed the shadows to the laundry exit.
The cold night air hit her face like a slap.
She was free.
But this wasn’t over.
Not even close.
Because now…
It was Ngozi’s turn to suffer.
To Be Continued…

Good morning family

“I Was Their Housemaid. They Told Their Visitors I Was a Cousin.”
20 Years Later, I Bought Their Mansion — And Gave It Back to Them Rent-Free.

They dressed me in hand-me-downs.
Made me serve their guests and wash their underwear.
But anytime visitors came, they’d smile and say:

> “She’s our little cousin from the village.”

I wasn’t family.
I was labour disguised as love.

But when the winds of life changed…
They never expected the same "cousin" to become their landlady.

From Maid to Millionaire — What She Did With the House That Once Housed Her Pain Left the Entire Family Speechless
Written by Rosyworld CRN

2002. GRA, Port Harcourt, Nigeria.

I was 11 when I moved in with them.
They promised my widowed mother they’d send me to school.

Instead, I became their domestic help.
Up by 4 AM.
Sleep by midnight.

I washed their dishes, ironed their uniforms, ran errands, and never complained.
Every time they introduced me as “our cousin,” I smiled through the lie.

Only the last daughter, Amaka, ever treated me kindly.
She once whispered:

> “One day, you’ll be bigger than all of us. Just don’t forget yourself.”

When I turned 15, they let me go.
Said they couldn’t afford to “keep an extra mouth.”

I moved in with a church family.
Hustled.
Went back to school.
Studied Accounting.
Sold snacks during holidays.

Eventually, I opened a small cleaning agency.

2020.

My agency serviced estates.
Managed elite homes.

That’s when I saw the house again.

Their house.
Old now. Paint peeling. Broken gate.

I found out it was up for auction.
They had lost everything to debt.

I didn’t blink.

I bought it.

Cash.

Then waited.

One Saturday morning, I knocked on their door.

The father opened.
Wrinkled, surprised.
They were squatting in one room upstairs — no light, no dignity.

They didn’t recognize me… until I said:

> “I’m the cousin who used to clean your toilets.”

Gasps.
Confusion.
Then silence.

I handed them keys.

> “This house is yours. Rent-free. No shame.

You don’t owe me.

But you owe the next person like me — kindness.”

The mother fell to her knees.
The daughters cried.

Only Amaka could speak.
She hugged me and whispered:

> “You didn’t forget yourself… and you didn’t forget us either.”

Today, I own 13 properties.
But that house?
It’s my loudest statement in silence.

Because the people who hid your pain with lies…
May one day live inside your compassion.

From housemaid… to house owner.
From “cousin”… to quiet conqueror.
From thrown away… to throne giver.

Follow Rosyworld CRN for more stories that prove:
True wealth is when your heart remains rich — even after you become powerful

I WAS ERASED BY MY OWN SISTER
PART 4
The days leading up to Nneka’s wedding were supposed to be filled with joy, laughter, and final preparations. But Ngozi had other plans—plans so dark, so twisted, that no one could have ever imagined them.
Ngozi had spent weeks studying Nneka’s every move—her routines, her habits, even the way she spoke. She had memorized the sound of her laughter, the way she brushed her hair, the little gestures she made when she was nervous.
Now, it was time to become her.
Three nights before the wedding, Ngozi invited Nneka out for a quiet sisterly dinner—just the two of them, she said, to celebrate their last days as single women.
Nneka, ever trusting, agreed.
They went to a secluded restaurant, where Ngozi had already bribed the staff to ignore anything unusual. She ordered Nneka’s favorite wine—spiked with a sedative.
"To us," Ngozi said, raising her glass with a smile.
Nneka clinked her glass, unaware that her last moments of freedom were slipping away.
Within minutes, Nneka’s vision blurred.
"I… I don’t feel so good," she slurred, her head drooping.
Ngozi caught her before she could collapse.
"Shhh, sis. Just sleep," she whispered, stroking her sister’s hair like a predator soothing its prey.
Ngozi took Nneka to a rented car, where she had everything prepared—a syringe filled with a powerful drug that induced hallucinations, paranoia, and mental instability.
She rolled up Nneka’s sleeve and injected her.
"By the time they find you," Ngozi murmured, "no one will believe a word you say."
Then, she drove to a remote psychiatric hospital—one where no one asked too many questions.
She checked Nneka in under a fake name, spinning a story about her "sister’s" sudden mental breakdown.
"She’s been hearing voices," Ngozi lied, her face a mask of concern. "She keeps saying she’s someone else. Please, help her."
The doctors nodded sympathetically. They had seen cases like this before.
And just like that, Nneka disappeared.
Ngozi returned home—but not as herself.
She cut and styled her hair exactly like Nneka’s. She wore Nneka’s clothes, her perfume, even practiced her voice in front of the mirror.
When Emeka called, worried about Nneka’s sudden absence, Ngozi answered in her sister’s voice.
"I just needed some space, baby. I’ll be back soon."
Emeka, though uneasy, believed her.
The next morning, Ngozi staged her own "death."
She left Nneka’s car by a river, along with a suicide note in her handwriting:
"I can’t take it anymore. The guilt is too much. Forgive me."
Then, she scattered some of her own belongings—a scarf, a shoe—near the water’s edge.
When the police arrived, they declared it a tragic suicide.
Nneka’s parents collapsed in grief. Emeka was devastated.
But no one questioned why "Nneka" seemed so… unaffected.
With Ngozi now living as Nneka, the wedding preparations continued.
Emeka noticed something was off—the way "Nneka" suddenly hated foods she used to love, the way she flinched when he touched her in ways only the real Nneka would enjoy.
But every time he questioned her, Ngozi would burst into tears.
"I’m just grieving my sister! How can you be so cruel?"
Emeka, racked with guilt, would immediately apologize.
"I’m sorry, baby. I’m just worried about you."
Ngozi would smile through her fake tears, knowing she had won.
Meanwhile, the real Nneka woke up in a cold, sterile room.
She screamed for help, but the nurses only shook their heads.
"Another episode," they muttered.
She tried to explain—"I’m Nneka! My sister did this to me!"*—but the drugs made her words slur, her thoughts scatter.
The doctors diagnosed her as severely delusional.
And as the days passed, even Nneka began to doubt herself.
Was she really Nneka? Or was that just another lies her broken mind had created? *
On the morning of the wedding, Ngozi stood in front of the mirror, admiring herself in Nneka’s wedding dress.
She smiled—a cold, victorious smile.
She had won.
Nneka was gone.
Emeka was hers.
The life she had always wanted was finally within reach.
But deep in the shadows of the psychiatric hospital, the real Nneka clenched her fists.
Because somewhere beneath the drugs, the confusion, the despair…
A fire still burned.
And one day, she would make Ngozi pay.
To Be Continued…

Good morning everyone happy new week

Today's Blessings

Today is a gift — a quiet reminder that life continues to unfold with moments of grace, growth, and gratitude. Even in its smallest details, today holds blessings worth noticing.

The morning light breaking through the clouds reminds us that each day brings new hope. The air we breathe, the strength in our bodies, the beating of our hearts — these are silent miracles we often overlook.

There's a blessing in connection: a kind word, a shared smile, the presence of loved ones, or even a stranger’s unexpected kindness. These small acts bring warmth to the soul.

There’s also a blessing in challenge — in the chance to learn, to rise, and to prove to ourselves that we are capable. Struggles can be stepping stones. They shape character and deepen appreciation.

And perhaps most importantly, there's the blessing of choice: to start again, to forgive, to dream, and to keep moving forward.

May we not rush past today without acknowledging these simple but profound gifts. Let us carry gratitude like a quiet anthem through the hours, seeing not just what we lack, but all that we’ve been given.

Today is blessed — and so are we.

*Psalms - 96:9 - O worship the Lord in the beauty of holiness: fear before him, all the earth.*

Your day is declared blessed.
Today, God will sanctify your life afresh.
Our God will accept your sacrifice of praise.
He will acknowledge your prayers.
Our God shall give you a fresh start.
Today, God will establish your dominion over sin and darkness.
Today, God will beautify your life in the beauty of His holiness.
God will empower you with divine favour.
He will cause you to find favour in the sight of men, women, old and young.
Today, God will grant you rest round-about.
Today, God will surprise you and supply all your needs.
Today, God will give you testimonies above your size.
God will restore your joy and give you peace this day and beyond.
God is waiting to do exceedingly abundantly above your expectations.
All you need do is give Him tangible worship.
So shall it be, in Jesus' name.
Amen.
Have the most blessed morning and a fruitful day ahead with God's awesome grace and love.
Happy New Week!

Good morning everyone

*Psalms - 96:9 - O worship the Lord in the beauty of holiness: fear before him, all the earth.*

Your day is declared blessed.
Today, God will sanctify your life afresh.
Our God will accept your sacrifice of praise.
He will acknowledge your prayers.
Our God shall give you a fresh start.
Today, God will establish your dominion over sin and darkness.
Today, God will beautify your life in the beauty of His holiness.
God will empower you with divine favour.
He will cause you to find favour in the sight of men, women, old and young.
Today, God will grant you rest round-about.
Today, God will surprise you and supply all your needs.
Today, God will give you testimonies above your size.
God will restore your joy and give you peace this day and beyond.
God is waiting to do exceedingly abundantly above your expectations.
All you need do is give Him tangible worship.
So shall it be, in Jesus' name.
Amen.
Have the most blessed morning and a fruitful day ahead with God's awesome grace and love.
Happy New Week!

*Psalms - 96:9 - O worship the Lord in the beauty of holiness: fear before him, all the earth.*

Your day is declared blessed.
Today, God will sanctify your life afresh.
Our God will accept your sacrifice of praise.
He will acknowledge your prayers.
Our God shall give you a fresh start.
Today, God will establish your dominion over sin and darkness.
Today, God will beautify your life in the beauty of His holiness.
God will empower you with divine favour.
He will cause you to find favour in the sight of men, women, old and young.
Today, God will grant you rest round-about.
Today, God will surprise you and supply all your needs.
Today, God will give you testimonies above your size.
God will restore your joy and give you peace this day and beyond.
God is waiting to do exceedingly abundantly above your expectations.
All you need do is give Him tangible worship.
So shall it be, in Jesus' name.
Amen.
Have the most blessed morning and a fruitful day ahead with God's awesome grace and love.
Happy New Week!