*THE RESTORER'S DAILY GUIDE*

DATE: WEDNESDAY 18TH JUNE 2025

THEME:
*QUICK UNDERSTANDING*

MEMORIZE
Isaiah 11:3
And shall make him of quick understanding in the fear of the LORD: and he shall not judge after the sight of his eyes, neither reprove after the hearing of his ears:

READ
Isaiah 11:1-9
And there shall come forth a rod out of the stem of Jesse, and a Branch shall grow out of his roots:
And the spirit of the LORD shall rest upon him, the spirit of wisdom and understanding, the spirit of counsel and might, the spirit of knowledge and of the fear of the LORD;
And shall make him of quick understanding in the fear of the LORD: and he shall not judge after the sight of his eyes, neither reprove after the hearing of his ears:
But with righteousness shall he judge the poor, and reprove with equity for the meek of the earth: and he shall smite the earth with the rod of his mouth, and with the breath of his lips shall he slay the wicked.
And righteousness shall be the girdle of his loins, and faithfulness the girdle of his reins.
The wolf also shall dwell with the lamb, and the leopard shall lie down with the kid; and the calf and the young lion and the fatling together; and a little child shall lead them.
And the cow and the bear shall feed; their young ones shall lie down together: and the lion shall eat straw like the ox.
And the sucking child shall play on the hole of the asp, and the weaned child shall put his hand on the cockatrice' den.
They shall not hurt nor destroy in all my holy mountain: for the earth shall be full of the knowledge of the LORD, as the waters cover the sea.

THOUGHT FOR THE DAY
*Quick understanding leads to a life of precision, distinction, and bliss.*

MESSAGE
The Lord Jesus Christ had the Spirit without measures upon His life and functioned from the cumulative power of the various dimensions of the Spirit of the LORD upon His life.

The result was that He was quick in understanding the fear of God. He was super fast in discerning and understanding the mind of the LORD in everything.

His mind was divinely empowered to pick the slightest signal from God's mind. He always knew what to do according to the scriptures, hence; He was totally pleasing unto the Father.

Today's text shows the cumulative effects of the Lord Jesus working with quick understanding; it says that
"They shall not hurt nor destroy in all my holy mountain: for the earth shall be full of the knowledge of the LORD, as the waters cover the sea." (Isaiah 11:9)

That's what happens when we operate with quick understanding in the fear of the LORD. We will be functioning in precision and in distinction. As a result, we will enjoy a life of bliss here on earth.

Unfortunately, the whole world, according to the scriptures, is under a heavy spell of darkness, thereby making people grope in darkness. As a result, people struggle with confusion and frustration.

Where there is darkness, there will be confusion, anarchy, and chaos.

All the calamities and chaos in today's world are caused by darkness because people are not able to see things in their proper perspectives.

Things are cloudy, turbid, and nebulose; therefore, wrong choices and decisions are being made continually, leading to so many crises and problems in the world.

However, we can change the narrative as we intentionally walk with the Lord Jesus Christ by the help of the Holy Spirit like He did while He was here on earth.

*He was full of the Spirit of the LORD and functioned in excellence.*

One of these days, He will return in His power and great glory, and He will take over the governance of the whole world, and the whole earth will experience perfect peace for one thousand years.

In the interim, you can ask the Lord Jesus Christ to help you function like He did on the earth; because the Bible tells us that we are like Him here on earth even as He is in heaven.

One day, the Lord Jesus Christ reprimanded two of His disciples for being slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have spoken. When He later on appeared to the twelve, the Bible tells us this;
Luke 24:45 "Then opened he their understanding, that they might understand the scriptures,"

This implies that they were "slow of heart to believe" because they were not functioning in "quick understanding."

Much more than ever, we need the Lord Jesus Christ to open our understanding and make us of quick understanding in the fear of the LORD.

Make this your passionate prayers today and always.

Shalom, maranatha!

ACTION STEPS
1. Prayerfully meditate on today's devotional guide.
2. Be intentional about your personal fellowship with the LORD.
3. Specifically, ask the Holy Spirit to make you of quick understanding in the fear of the LORD always.

REMEMBER
*Quick understanding leads to a life of precision, distinction, and bliss.*

PRAYERS
Dear heavenly Father, Thank you for today's devotional guide. I ask for the fulness of your Spirit upon me today and let this result in a quick understanding in the fear of the LORD in Jesus' name. Amen.

AUTHOR: JEDIDIAH DAVID

DAILY READING: 1 Samuel 16-17; Psalms 114-115; Matthew 3-4; Acts 1-2;

HYMN
1
Blessed assurance—Jesus is mine!
Oh, what a foretaste of glory divine!
Heir of salvation, purchase of God;
Born of His Spirit, washed in His blood.

This is my story, this is my song,
Praising my Saviour all the day long;
This is my story, this is my song,
Praising my Saviour all the day long.

2
Perfect submission, perfect delight,
Visions of rapture burst on my sight;
Angels descending, bring from above
Echoes of mercy, whispers of love.

3
Perfect submission, all is at rest,
I in my Saviour am happy and blest;
Watching and waiting, looking above,
Filled with His goodness, lost in His love.

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I reach baba side today, e say make I go back before I go use hand spoil waitin God dey plan for me....

God still dey for me 🥹

12 POVERTY HABITS THAT WILL KEEP YOU BROKE & IRRELEVANT AS A MAN

Men — poverty isn’t bad luck. It’s a pattern. And the bitter truth is that most broke men are the architects of their own misery. Let’s unpack this like men:

1️⃣ LACK OF FINANCIAL DISCIPLINE
If you can’t control how you spend, you’ll never control how you live. It doesn’t matter how much you make — if you blow it on impulse, you’ll remain broke and bitter.

2️⃣ NEVER LEARNING NEW THINGS
If the last valuable thing you learned was in school, you’re already outdated. Men who refuse to evolve become relics. Self-education feeds the wallet — ignorance empties it.

3️⃣ GIVING UP EASILY
Life will slap you hard. If you crumble at every setback, poverty will chain you for life. No one respects a quitter. Real men push back.

4️⃣ CHASING GET-RICH-QUICK SCHEMES
Baba, there’s no shortcut. If it sounds too easy, it’s a scam. You’ll either lose your money, your peace, or your freedom.

5️⃣ BLAMING OTHERS FOR YOUR SITUATION
Your uncle isn’t your problem. The government isn’t your excuse. Your laziness and bad choices are. Own your mess — then fix it.

6️⃣ SPENDING TIME WITH LOSERS
You’re the average of the 5 men you roll with. Hang around broke, lazy men? Welcome to their level. Your circle is either sharpening you or stabbing you.

7️⃣ FEAR OF STARTING SOMETHING NEW
Cowards die broke. Rich men risk. The unknown separates men from boys. If you don’t dare, you’ll never do.

8️⃣ GREED WITHOUT WISDOM
Wanting everything leaves you with nothing. Greed clouds judgment. Discipline your appetite, or you’ll choke on your own excess.

9️⃣ LIVING WITHOUT GOALS
A man without a mission is a man waiting to be buried poor. Your dreams should scare you. If they don’t, you’re not dreaming — you’re wasting oxygen.

LACK OF FOCUS
Too many men chasing 10 things, mastering none. Pick a lane. Stay in it. Win in it. Scattered energy builds nothing.

1️⃣1️⃣ DEPENDING ON MIRACLES INSTEAD OF MAKING MOVES
Prayer without work is noise. God blesses effort, not excuses. If you’re waiting for heaven to drop money, you’ll die in overdraft.

1️⃣2️⃣ TOO PROUD TO ASK FOR HELP
Ego has buried more men than poverty. If you need guidance, ask. Pride makes broke men stay broke longer.

FINAL WARNING:
If you recognize yourself in this list, don’t excuse it. Fix it. A man who refuses to confront his flaws is a man already buried by them. Poverty isn’t your destiny — but it’s your default if you don’t fight back. Wake up. Tighten up. Rise like your life depends on it — because it does.

Subscribe to the YouTube channel for more no-nonsense content for men: https://youtube.com/@aboutthatstreet?si=dMoS0zfwxqtB-Z6C

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"They told her to wait in the corridor while the family ate."
She was “just the help.”
She served their meals but ate leftovers.
She washed their clothes but wore rags.
But one day…
She knocked on their door — not to beg, but to bless.

She Was the House Girl Who Wasn’t Allowed to Eat at the Table — 25 Years Later, She Returned With a Surprise That Made the Whole Family Cry
Written by Rosyworld CRN

1999. Lagos, Nigeria.

Amarachi was 13 when she was sent from her village to Lagos to work as a housemaid for the Okoye family.

Her job?
Clean the house.
Fetch water.
Cook.
Wash.
Repeat.

She wasn’t allowed to sit on the couch.
Not allowed to eat with the children.
She ate on the kitchen floor.
Sometimes slept near the store room.

They said:

“Know your place. You’re lucky to be here.”

But she was kind.
Obedient.
And every night, she read old textbooks she found in the bin.

One of the children, Chidera, once caught her studying and said:

“You? School? Who will pay for your brain?”

She smiled and said:

“Maybe one day, God will.”

After four years, she was sent back to her village.
No certificate.
No savings.
No promise.

But Amarachi didn’t stop.

She farmed.
Saved.
Taught children.
Got into a polytechnic.
Graduated in business.
Started a food brand.
Expanded into export.

By 2024, she became one of the leading agro-entrepreneurs in Southern Nigeria.

---

One day, she saw a social media post — the Okoye family was launching a foundation and needed a major sponsor.

She made a call.

Used her married name.

They invited her… not knowing who she was.

On the day of the launch, she walked in — head high, dressed in white lace.

The family froze.

Chidera blinked.

The father gasped.

She smiled and said:

“25 years ago, I served your food in silence.
Today, I came to serve your future with love.”

She handed them a cheque — ₦20 million donation to the foundation.

Then added:

“This is not revenge. It’s remembrance.
Because the girl you ignored… grew in grace.”

The hall fell silent.

Even Chidera wept.

Amarachi turned, hugged the family’s grandmother, and whispered:

“The table I once wasn’t allowed to sit at…
God gave me the tools to build my own.”

She didn’t come to repay pain.
She came to rewrite history.

Because sometimes, the girl they made eat in the kitchen…
Returns to fund the banquet.

"They told her to wait in the corridor while the family ate."
She was “just the help.”
She served their meals but ate leftovers.
She washed their clothes but wore rags.
But one day…
She knocked on their door — not to beg, but to bless.

She Was the House Girl Who Wasn’t Allowed to Eat at the Table — 25 Years Later, She Returned With a Surprise That Made the Whole Family Cry
Written by Rosyworld CRN

1999. Lagos, Nigeria.

Amarachi was 13 when she was sent from her village to Lagos to work as a housemaid for the Okoye family.

Her job?
Clean the house.
Fetch water.
Cook.
Wash.
Repeat.

She wasn’t allowed to sit on the couch.
Not allowed to eat with the children.
She ate on the kitchen floor.
Sometimes slept near the store room.

They said:

“Know your place. You’re lucky to be here.”

But she was kind.
Obedient.
And every night, she read old textbooks she found in the bin.

One of the children, Chidera, once caught her studying and said:

“You? School? Who will pay for your brain?”

She smiled and said:

“Maybe one day, God will.”

After four years, she was sent back to her village.
No certificate.
No savings.
No promise.

But Amarachi didn’t stop.

She farmed.
Saved.
Taught children.
Got into a polytechnic.
Graduated in business.
Started a food brand.
Expanded into export.

By 2024, she became one of the leading agro-entrepreneurs in Southern Nigeria.

---

One day, she saw a social media post — the Okoye family was launching a foundation and needed a major sponsor.

She made a call.

Used her married name.

They invited her… not knowing who she was.

On the day of the launch, she walked in — head high, dressed in white lace.

The family froze.

Chidera blinked.

The father gasped.

She smiled and said:

“25 years ago, I served your food in silence.
Today, I came to serve your future with love.”

She handed them a cheque — ₦20 million donation to the foundation.

Then added:

“This is not revenge. It’s remembrance.
Because the girl you ignored… grew in grace.”

The hall fell silent.

Even Chidera wept.

Amarachi turned, hugged the family’s grandmother, and whispered:

“The table I once wasn’t allowed to sit at…
God gave me the tools to build my own.”

She didn’t come to repay pain.
She came to rewrite history.

Because sometimes, the girl they made eat in the kitchen…
Returns to fund the banquet.

7 Mental Upgrades to Start Making Money by Breaking Poverty Indoctrination

I have been providing one-on-one coaching for close to 15 years now. When it comes to money, I’ve observed that most people have certain mental limitations that keep them from breaking into financial breakthroughs through what they do.

In this short article, let me show you 7 of these limitations along with quick tips on what to do to break out and start winning financially.

1. Upgrade from Scarcity Thinking to Opportunity Awareness
Stop believing there's “not enough.”
Start training your mind to believe there is so much money to make and you have all it takes to make the money you need.
Start training your mind to spot overlooked opportunities.
Wealth flows to those who solve problems, not those who avoid them.

Just to add, jealousy often stems from a scarcity mindset, the belief that someone else's success limits your own opportunities.
But when you have an abundance and opportunity driven mindset, you won’t feel jealous. Instead, you’ll celebrate others' success, knowing that more success creates more opportunities for everyone.

2. Upgrade from Waiting for Permission to Taking Initiative
Poverty conditioning teaches obedience and approval-seeking.
Wealth mindsets are built on bold decision-making and self-leadership.
Don’t wait. Move. Test. Adjust. Win.
People who take initiatives always end up making more money because money follows movement. ~ Dr. Joybert Javnyuy

3. Upgrade from Passive Learning to Income-Driven Execution
Poor mindsets collect information with no transformation.
Wealth builders turn every insight into income-producing action.
Your notebooks are full. It's time your wallet is too.
This can only happen when you stop learning passively and start taking actions on what you have been learning.
Learners do not make money. Money making is for those who deploy knowledge acquired.

4. Upgrade from Money Avoidance to Money Mastery
Poverty indoctrination makes you feel guilty about desiring more money.
Do not confuse loving money so much that you're willing to make it at all costs, even through unethical means, with desiring more money so you can use it as a tool to improve your life and positively impact others.
The wealthy learn how money moves, grows, and multiplies. ~ Dr. Joybert Javnyuy
Study money like your life depends on it, because it does.
Religious people avoid money and spiritual people master money and use it to serve humanity.

5. Upgrade from Skill Hoarding to Value Packaging
It’s not about how much you know, it’s about how you package what you know for impact and income.
Knowledge is potential wealth. Packaging is real wealth.
You can only monetize the knowledge you have packaged. ~ Dr. Joybert Javnyuy

By the way, I am admitting cohort 2 of Knowledge & Skill Monetization Academy. Interested?
Join the WhatsApp waitlist here: https://chat.whatsapp.com/DL4xFWYLUZDEj53fxwmW1T
In under 30 days, you'll have at least 5 sellable products crafted from your knowledge, experience, and skills, ready to launch and start earning.

6. Upgrade from Victim Stories to Ownership Identity
Poverty loves blame. Wealth loves responsibility.
Even when it's not your fault, it is your future.
Take the driver’s seat. Rewrite the narrative.
Poor people are experts in blaming and complaining and wealthy people are experts in taking responsibility and initiative.

7. Upgrade from ‘One Day’ Thinking to 90-Day Wealth Projects
Stop dreaming “someday.” Start committing to bold 90-day goals.
Stop saying, "I will start this in the next few days." Start saying, "In the next 90 days, I will have completed this, achieved that, and accomplished those goals."
Every quarter should have a money mission.
Time doesn’t build wealth, execution does.
Poor people think in terms of time only, while wealthy people have projects for every season.

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

Oga you fit wait in darkness forever and she no go recharge that light. Better recharge and do what you want to do. Some women too do sha

DISCOVERY 3:
IF YOU DON'T KNOW WHO YOU ARE WAITING FOR THEN YOU DON'T NEED TO WAIT...

* : don't waste your time.

"They told her to wait in the corridor while the family ate."
She was “just the help.”
She served their meals but ate leftovers.
She washed their clothes but wore rags.
But one day…
She knocked on their door — not to beg, but to bless.

She Was the House Girl Who Wasn’t Allowed to Eat at the Table — 25 Years Later, She Returned With a Surprise That Made the Whole Family Cry
Written by Rosyworld CRN

1999. Lagos, Nigeria.

Amarachi was 13 when she was sent from her village to Lagos to work as a housemaid for the Okoye family.

Her job?
Clean the house.
Fetch water.
Cook.
Wash.
Repeat.

She wasn’t allowed to sit on the couch.
Not allowed to eat with the children.
She ate on the kitchen floor.
Sometimes slept near the store room.

They said:

“Know your place. You’re lucky to be here.”

But she was kind.
Obedient.
And every night, she read old textbooks she found in the bin.

One of the children, Chidera, once caught her studying and said:

“You? School? Who will pay for your brain?”

She smiled and said:

“Maybe one day, God will.”

After four years, she was sent back to her village.
No certificate.
No savings.
No promise.

But Amarachi didn’t stop.

She farmed.
Saved.
Taught children.
Got into a polytechnic.
Graduated in business.
Started a food brand.
Expanded into export.

By 2024, she became one of the leading agro-entrepreneurs in Southern Nigeria.

---

One day, she saw a social media post — the Okoye family was launching a foundation and needed a major sponsor.

She made a call.

Used her married name.

They invited her… not knowing who she was.

On the day of the launch, she walked in — head high, dressed in white lace.

The family froze.

Chidera blinked.

The father gasped.

She smiled and said:

“25 years ago, I served your food in silence.
Today, I came to serve your future with love.”

She handed them a cheque — ₦20 million donation to the foundation.

Then added:

“This is not revenge. It’s remembrance.
Because the girl you ignored… grew in grace.”

The hall fell silent.

Even Chidera wept.

Amarachi turned, hugged the family’s grandmother, and whispered:

“The table I once wasn’t allowed to sit at…
God gave me the tools to build my own.”

She didn’t come to repay pain.
She came to rewrite history.

Because sometimes, the girl they made eat in the kitchen…
Returns to fund the banquet.

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...

I DO NOT BOAST I AM A CAPTAIN

On darkest nights, mid-ocean wide,
my boat and I with waves collide.
Why, Poseidon, such disdain?
Am I to blame I steer my reign?
The storm will hurl us through the sky,
then slam us down, yet still we try.
I fear, but cry not out in pride,
nor claim I rule this raging tide.
Should I not reach the harbor near—
the table waits for fish and cheer.
If I don’t make it, someone grieves...
That’s why, that’s why—I fight to leave!
What marvels rise—I never tell,
nor fear, nor hope where sea-storms dwell.
No sailor bows to tales or fame,
to say this wrecked boat bore my name.

SHE'S A SKY FULL OF STARS
She's a sky full of stars
A beautiful celestial map
She's a universe of wonder in a velvet lap
She's candlelight's flicker, such a radiant display
Where the constellations cluster and playfully sway
Sparkle resides within her eyes, do you see her cosmic gleam?
It reflects galaxies woven in your waking dreams
She is a nebula of passion right down to her fiery core
There resides a burning with poems she's waiting to pour
Watch the distant planets circling with mysteries that reside
They carry secrets whispered softly on a starlit tide
She's a supernova bursting in hot or cold
Listen as her story is mystically spoken in her own world
Gaze into her eyes if you dare to see
The limitless expanse of what she could be
She's a sky full of stars forever bright as sparkling's cast
She's a treasure to be cherished-
And a memory to eternally last