PRAISE AND PASSION PART 6 The camera flashes exploded like gunfire, each one searing Bukola’s vision with white-hot judgment. She could feel the crowd’s hatred like physical blows—the hissed prayers, the iPhones thrust in her face, the way Pastor Adeleke’s smirk deepened as her fingers trembled in Tobi’s grip. "Repent now!" a woman shrieked from the mob, waving a Bible like a weapon. "Confess your sins before hell claims you!" Tobi’s arm tightened around her waist. "Keep walking," he muttered through clenched teeth. But then— "BROTHER TOBI!" A voice sliced through the chaos. A young woman in a ripped choir robe fought against security, her braids wild around a face streaked with tears. "You promised!" she screamed. "You promised he’d pay for what he did to me!" Tobi went rigid. Bukola felt the shift in him—the way his breath stopped, the way his fingers dug into her hip hard enough to bruise. "Tobi? Who is—" Pastor Adeleke’s microphone shrieked with feedback as he stepped between them and the girl. "Another deceived soul! But we must focus on the sinner before us!" He gestured grandly at Bukola. "Will you repent, Gospel Girl?" The crowd roared. Bukola opened her mouth— CRACK. A sound like lightning split the air. Every head whipped toward the hotel’s giant LED screen. Where Bukola’s face should have been, there was… Audio waves. And then Pastor Adeleke’s voice, slick with sin, filled the lobby: "You’ll sleep with me, or your brother loses his scholarship. Unless you want his blood on your hands?" The girl in the choir robe—Tobi’s sister—burst into fresh sobs. The crowd’s fury turned like a tidal wave. "Liar!" Adeleke shouted, but the recording continued: "Such a pretty little mouth. Open it for your pastor, eh?" Silence. Then— Chaos. Tobi moved like a man possessed, shoving through the now-enraged crowd, dragging Bukola behind him. Mama Nkechi materialized at their side, shoving car keys into his hand. "Take her. Now." Bukola barely had time to process before she was thrown into a black SUV, Tobi peeling out as fists pounded on the windows. "Who was that girl?" Bukola demanded, her voice raw. Tobi’s knuckles whitened on the wheel. "My baby sister. Adeleke raped her three years ago. When I confronted him, he had me thrown out of three churches." A muscle jumped in his jaw. "I joined your tour to get close to him. To destroy him." The confession hit like a slap. "So I was… what? Bait?" Tobi swerved down a dark alley, killing the headlights. Then he turned to her, eyes burning. "At first." His hand cupped her cheek. "Then I fell for you. Hard." Bukola wanted to pull away. She couldn’t. The abandoned church on Lagos’ outskirts smelled of dust and old hymns. Moonlight bled through stained glass, painting Tobi’s skin in fractured colors as he backed her against the peeling altar. "You used me," she whispered. "I saved you," he corrected, hands caging her hips. "That recording was mine. I’ve waited years to ruin him." Bukola’s pulse pounded in her throat. "You lied." "So did you." His thumb traced her lower lip. "All those pretty sermons about purity. While you moaned my name in the studio." A whimper escaped her. Tobi’s mouth crashed down. This wasn’t love. This was war. His teeth scraped her neck as he lifted her onto the altar, her legs wrapping around his waist. The wood creaked beneath them, a blasphemous counterpoint to their ragged breaths. "Tell me to stop," he growled, hands tearing at her dress. She arched into him instead. When he entered her, it was with a groan that sounded like **prayer and punishment** tangled together. Each thrust was a vow— lied, I want you, I’ll burn for this. Bukola clawed at his back, her cries echoing off the vaulted ceiling like a corrupted choir. Above them, a broken stained-glass angel watched, its face shattered. She came with a sob. Tobi followed, his forehead pressed to hers, their sweat mingling like holy water and sin. After, as they lay tangled on a pew, Bukola’s phone buzzed. A notification from Mama Nkechi: "Adeleke arrested. But he has powerful friends. They’re coming for you both. RUN." Tobi sat up, muscles tense. "We need to—" Sirens wailed in the distance. Bukola’s blood froze. Tobi grabbed her hand. "Back door. Now." They barely made it to the car before headlights flooded the parking lot. As tires screeched into the night, one question burned hotter than guilt: Who betrayed them this time? TO BE CONTINUED… WILL THEY TRUST EACH OTHER—OR WILL THE PAST TEAR THEM APART? #fictionalwritter #fictionalstories #africanstoryteller #africantales #talesmoonlight #africanlovesaga #hotromancedrama #storytelling #Storytime #kenyanfolktales #ghanianfolktales #zambianfolktales #gambianfolktales #nigeriafolktales #ugandanfolktales

--- Be careful who you welcome into your home. Not every househelp came to serve. THE HOUSEHELP’S SECRET – Episode 3 That night, Ada couldn’t sleep. The photo. The initials. The woman’s smile — it was still burning in her mind like a flame that refused to die. She knew the truth was hidden in this house. And now, she was closer than ever to uncovering it. But she wasn’t the only one awake. In the master bedroom, Madam Eze sat upright, watching her husband as he scrolled through his phone. “Why did you freeze when you saw the househelp this morning?” she asked without blinking. Mr. Eze didn’t look up. “I told you. She just reminded me of someone.” “Ada?” she pressed. “Or her mother?” That made him pause. Slowly, he turned to look at his wife. “What are you saying?” Madam Eze leaned forward. “I saw the way you looked at her. Like you saw a ghost. Don’t lie to me, Chuka.” He stood and walked to the window, silent. From the hallway, little Nkem was standing behind the door. Listening. Watching. Her young mind was processing fast. The next morning, while everyone was still asleep, Nkem snuck into the living room. She went to the bookshelf and started searching for the photo she had seen Ada holding. It was gone. Ada had hidden it somewhere else. But something else caught her eye — an old journal with the name “E.D.” on the cover. She opened it. The first page was innocent — business notes, expenses. But the third page stopped her heart. > “I told her never to come here again. The child must never know the truth.” Nkem blinked. What child? What truth? Suddenly, she heard footsteps. Ada was standing behind her. “You shouldn’t be reading that,” Ada said calmly, but there was something icy in her tone. Nkem clutched the journal. “Who are you?” Ada leaned down, her voice low but firm. “I’m here for answers. And I’ll get them — with or without your help.” Nkem stared at her. “Are you… are you my sister?” Ada didn’t reply. She just walked away. And for the first time in her life, Nkem felt truly afraid — not of Ada, but of the truth. --- Could Ada really be connected to the family by blood? What is Mr. Eze hiding? And why is the journal so important? Drop your theories in the comments! Episode 4 is where secrets begin to crack wide open. Written by Queen Novo #queennovo #storytelling #storytime #africanstories #family #househelpstory #シ #viralpost2025シ #SuspenseSeries #followerseveryonehighlightseveryone

Be careful who you welcome into your home. Not every househelp came to serve. THE HOUSEHELP’S SECRET – Episode 2 By 5 a.m., Ada was already sweeping the compound. She moved silently, her bare feet making no sound against the cold concrete. She knew someone was watching — she could feel it — but she didn’t turn. She had learned long ago: Don’t reveal what you know. From behind the curtain upstairs, Nkem, the only daughter of Madam Eze, was watching. 13 years old and curious beyond her age, Nkem whispered to herself, “This new girl is different…” Later that morning, Ada was in the kitchen helping Mama Peace with breakfast. She moved like someone who had done this a thousand times. Every chop of the onion, every stir of the pot — quiet and focused. “Are you sure you haven’t worked in a hotel before?” Mama Peace asked, suspiciously. Ada smiled softly. “No ma.” Mama Peace eyed her again. There was no pride in the girl, but there was a calmness that felt… too mature. At breakfast, Mr. Eze joined the table. He had just returned from a business trip the night before and hadn’t met Ada yet. When she walked in with the tray of food, their eyes met — and something shifted in his expression. He froze. Ada quickly lowered her gaze and greeted, “Good morning sir.” He didn’t answer immediately. Then, with a forced smile, he nodded. “Morning.” Madam Eze noticed. She watched him carefully. After Ada left, she asked, “You know her?” He shook his head too quickly. “No. Why?” “You were staring.” Mr. Eze sipped his tea and cleared his throat. “I was just thinking. She reminds me of someone.” Later that evening, as Ada mopped the living room, she paused by the family bookshelf. Her eyes scanned through titles — books, photo albums, old journals… She saw a photo half-tucked behind a book. She pulled it out slowly. It was a picture of a baby wrapped in a blue shawl — the same one from the golden frame in the living room. But this one was different. There was another woman in this photo. And it wasn’t Madam Eze. Ada’s hand trembled slightly as she looked at the woman’s face. She turned the photo over. A date was written there. And three initials. A single tear rolled down her cheek. Behind her, a shadow appeared. Nkem was watching from the corridor. “Who is that woman?” the girl asked innocently. Ada quickly hid the photo back behind the book. “No one.” But Nkem’s eyes narrowed. “You’re hiding something.” Ada looked at her and whispered, “And so are your parents.” What do you think is going on between Ada and Mr. Eze? Why did Ada cry when she saw the photo? Should Nkem start investigating? Drop your thoughts in the comments. Let’s talk. Episode 3 will shock you! Written by Queen Novo ✍️✍️✍️ #queennovo #storytelling #Storytime #family #househelpstory #viralpost #SuspenseSeries #africanstories

Be careful who you welcome into your home… not every househelp came to serve.” THE HOUSEHELP’S SECRET Episode 1 – The Girl at the Gate The sun was already dipping when the security man walked into the living room and cleared his throat. “Madam… the new girl don come.” Madam Eze didn’t even look up from her phone. “Tell her to wait.” She was irritated. She had gone through three househelps in six months. One stole her gold chain. Another broke a bottle and lied. The last one… well, the girl got pregnant and claimed the father was her husband’s younger brother. Total madness. She was done with nonsense. “Bring her in,” she finally said. A minute later, a slim, dark-skinned girl walked in. She was about 19, with neatly plaited hair and eyes that looked down, never meeting anyone's gaze. Her wrapper was faded, her blouse plain. But there was something strange about her presence — something quiet but strong. “What’s your name?” Madam Eze asked, sizing her up. “Ada, ma.” “You’ve worked before?” “Yes ma. For two years in Owerri.” Madam Eze folded her arms. “Why did you leave?” Ada hesitated. Her fingers trembled slightly as she clutched the handle of her small bag. “They… relocated,” she said simply. Madam Eze eyed her closely. Something in that answer didn’t sit right, but she shrugged it off. “You’ll start tomorrow. Nkem is my only daughter. You do anything funny around her, I’ll send you to the village myself. Are we clear?” “Yes ma.” “Good. Go to the boys’ quarters. You’ll meet Mama Peace there. She’ll show you around.” As Ada turned to leave, her eyes swept briefly across the living room — the golden frames, the family pictures, the expensive couches — then rested for a second on a photo of Madam Eze holding a newborn baby. Her eyes softened. She looked away quickly, but not before Madam Eze noticed. “You know that baby?” the madam asked, suspicious. Ada blinked. “No ma.” “Hmm.” Ada left quietly. As she stepped out into the evening breeze, she whispered under her breath. “God, you’ve brought me this far… don’t let me fail.” Inside the house, Madam Eze shivered suddenly. She didn’t know why. But something about that girl… didn’t feel right. And deep in her heart, she had a strange feeling: This girl was not just a househelp. > What do you think Ada is hiding? Should Madam Eze have trusted her? Drop your thoughts in the comments… Episode 2 drops tomorrow! Like, share n drop a comment. Follow Queen Novo for more interesting stories. #househelpstory #AfricanStories #SuspenseSeries #FamilySecrets #QueenNovo #storytime #storytelling #viralpost2025シ

POOR GIRL WAS FIXING HER MAKEUP IN A CAR WINDOW UNAWARE SOMEONE WAS WATCHING Mara stood by the roadside, squinting into the tinted window of a sleek black car. Her reflection stared back, smudged and tired. She dabbed on cheap lipstick and patted her cracked powder compact, trying to look presentable before catching the bus home. She had just finished cleaning offices downtown—her part-time job barely paid enough to survive, but she managed. #stargt She didn’t care whose car it was. It was just a mirror to her. But what she didn’t know was that someone was inside. Liam sat silently in the back seat, watching her with curious eyes. A billionaire known for his ruthless business deals and cold demeanor, he wasn’t easily impressed. But there was something about this girl. The way she pouted at her reflection, the determined strokes of her lipstick, the innocence in her eyes. She had no idea someone was watching… and that someone was him. As she adjusted her scarf and stepped back, Mara caught a strange movement in the glass. Her heart skipped. She leaned closer—and froze. A man was inside, staring right at her. “Oh my God…” she gasped, stumbling back. “I’m so sorry!” She turned quickly to leave, mortified. But then she heard a deep, calm voice behind her. “Hey, you. What’s your name?” Mara paused. No rich man had ever spoken to her like that before—without mockery or pity. She clutched her worn-out handbag, unsure what to do. “…Mara,” she replied, voice barely above a whisper. Liam stepped out of the car, tall and commanding. His eyes studied her like she was a puzzle. “Do you always use strangers’ cars as mirrors?” he asked, the hint of a smirk on his lips. Her face flushed, but she lifted her chin. “Only when I can’t afford a real one.” That confidence… unexpected, unpolished. It made Liam smile for the first time in days. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a sleek business card, handing it to her. “You’re bold. I like that. Come work for me.” Mara blinked at the card, stunned. Was this a prank? “W-Work? As what?” “My personal assistant.” She stared at him, speechless. Was he serious? What did a billionaire want with a girl who cleaned floors for a living? But Liam was already leaning against his car like he had all the time in the world. That night, Mara didn’t sleep. The card sat on her small table, almost glowing. Her entire world had shifted with a single sentence. The next morning, she called the number. Liam’s assistant answered instantly. “Mr. Liam asked me to expect your call. Can you come to the office today?” Her heart pounded. She walked into Liam’s company—towering glass walls, sharp-dressed workers, luxury dripping from every corner. And there she was, in her only clean dress, shoes that had seen better days. When she entered his office, Liam didn’t look surprised. “I want you as my personal assistant,” he repeated, calmly. “I-I don’t have any qualifications,” she stammered. “I’m not hiring a degree,” he said, leaning forward. “I’m hiring honesty. Loyalty. Boldness. Things you showed me without even trying.” Mara swallowed hard. “Unless…” Liam added with a teasing smile, “you’d prefer to keep fixing makeup on random car windows forever?” Her lips parted, but no words came out. All she knew was—her life was about to change. And it all began with a little makeup and the wrong window. 🚨 Missed an Episode? Don't Worry! 🚨 Follow Me for more stories! ✨ To be continued… #africanfolktales #storytime #culture #africanstories #moralstories #folktales #folklore #folk #africanstorytellerafricantales #tales #africanfolklore #nigerianfolktales #africanfolktalesbyada #africanhistory #africanheritage #prophecy #viralvideo #viralvideos #viralshorts #trending #trend #trendingvideo #story #Storytelling