HIS MOTHER-IN-LAW S3DUC3D HIM UNTIL HE GOT HER PREGNANT.
1
Veronica was not your typical mother-in-law. I mean, not every mother-in-law is the same; some come with prayers, wrappers, and love, while others come with lipstick, secrets, and destr--uction. Veronica was the second kind.
She was the kind of woman who never accepted she was old, always saying things like, "I'm still h--ot," or "I'm still in town." She dressed like a teenager: short, see-through skirts, crop tops, long eyelashes, and heavy makeup that made people stare.
She walked like the streets still belonged to her, spoke with bold confidence, and never accepted that age had touched her. She didn't visit her daughters like a normal mother; she showed up like she was coming for a nightclub audition.
To Veronica, her daughter's husband wasn't family; he was an opportunity, another fine man she could lay in b--ed with. And she did it – not once, not twice, but multiple times. She wasn't just a problem; she was a st--orm.
Meanwhile, across town, Nancy, her daughter, lived a very different life. Nancy was the kind of woman every man would be proud to have. Her skin was smooth like ripe mango, and her smile could calm a crying baby. She was kind, quiet, and very hardworking. Everyone who met her said the same thing: "This girl is wife material."
Nancy had a man, his name was Aika. He was tall like a coconut tree, with skin that shone like polished wood. His voice was soft, his steps gentle, and his heart was full of love.
He had big houses, fine cars, big businesses, and plenty of money in the bank. But above all, he had only one thing in mind: to marry Nancy and start a peaceful life with her.
Nancy had everything a young woman could wish for: a good job, a gentle man, and a heart full of joy. But inside her chest, under her happiness, there was a small fear, a quiet fear that stayed like a lizard behind cardboard.
That fear was her mother, Veronica. Veronica was her mother by b--lood, yes, but she was not like other mothers. She was different, and Nancy knew deep down in her heart that if anything was ever going to spoil her joy, it would come from that woman.
But she never said it out loud; she just smiled and kept planning her wedding.
Veronica was not a mother like Mama Anki or Mama Zab; she was different, very different.
She had Nancy when she was just a small girl herself, a teenager. Her parents chased her out of the house when they saw her belly growing like a yam.
She cried, she begged, but they shut the door and told her, "Go and face what you started." From that day, Veronica began to suffer under the hot sun.
She carried oranges on her head, she sold sachet water in traffic, she begged strangers for coins. Her feet were always dusty, and her stomach always empty.
But Veronica had something: beauty. She was fine, too fine. Her skin glowed, her bo--dy curved like a question mark, and men started to notice. One man came one night; he offered her food and a soft bed, but he wanted her bo--dy in return. She agreed. That night, her life changed.
That was how Veronica entered the world of easy money: one man today, another man tomorrow. She began to wear short clothes, paint her li--ps red like tomatoes, and walk with her che--st high like a peacock.
She went from sleeping on cartons to sleeping in hotels, from begging for food to buying fried rice at night.
To be continued after 20 shares...
HIS MOTHER-IN-LAW S3DUC3D HIM UNTIL HE GOT HER PREGNANT.
1
Veronica was not your typical mother-in-law. I mean, not every mother-in-law is the same; some come with prayers, wrappers, and love, while others come with lipstick, secrets, and destr--uction. Veronica was the second kind.
She was the kind of woman who never accepted she was old, always saying things like, "I'm still h--ot," or "I'm still in town." She dressed like a teenager: short, see-through skirts, crop tops, long eyelashes, and heavy makeup that made people stare.
She walked like the streets still belonged to her, spoke with bold confidence, and never accepted that age had touched her. She didn't visit her daughters like a normal mother; she showed up like she was coming for a nightclub audition.
To Veronica, her daughter's husband wasn't family; he was an opportunity, another fine man she could lay in b--ed with. And she did it – not once, not twice, but multiple times. She wasn't just a problem; she was a st--orm.
Meanwhile, across town, Nancy, her daughter, lived a very different life. Nancy was the kind of woman every man would be proud to have. Her skin was smooth like ripe mango, and her smile could calm a crying baby. She was kind, quiet, and very hardworking. Everyone who met her said the same thing: "This girl is wife material."
Nancy had a man, his name was Aika. He was tall like a coconut tree, with skin that shone like polished wood. His voice was soft, his steps gentle, and his heart was full of love.
He had big houses, fine cars, big businesses, and plenty of money in the bank. But above all, he had only one thing in mind: to marry Nancy and start a peaceful life with her.
Nancy had everything a young woman could wish for: a good job, a gentle man, and a heart full of joy. But inside her chest, under her happiness, there was a small fear, a quiet fear that stayed like a lizard behind cardboard.
That fear was her mother, Veronica. Veronica was her mother by b--lood, yes, but she was not like other mothers. She was different, and Nancy knew deep down in her heart that if anything was ever going to spoil her joy, it would come from that woman.
But she never said it out loud; she just smiled and kept planning her wedding.
Veronica was not a mother like Mama Anki or Mama Zab; she was different, very different.
She had Nancy when she was just a small girl herself, a teenager. Her parents chased her out of the house when they saw her belly growing like a yam.
She cried, she begged, but they shut the door and told her, "Go and face what you started." From that day, Veronica began to suffer under the hot sun.
She carried oranges on her head, she sold sachet water in traffic, she begged strangers for coins. Her feet were always dusty, and her stomach always empty.
But Veronica had something: beauty. She was fine, too fine. Her skin glowed, her bo--dy curved like a question mark, and men started to notice. One man came one night; he offered her food and a soft bed, but he wanted her bo--dy in return. She agreed. That night, her life changed.
That was how Veronica entered the world of easy money: one man today, another man tomorrow. She began to wear short clothes, paint her li--ps red like tomatoes, and walk with her che--st high like a peacock.
She went from sleeping on cartons to sleeping in hotels, from begging for food to buying fried rice at night.
To be continued after 20 shares...
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