Jesus Christ is speaking to somebody here, saying, "I am here to turn your story around. I am here to meet with you and do for you and with you what will shock the world.
Jehovah says, I will save your spirit. I will secure your eternity.
I will secure your seat in the heavenlies. I will give you eternal life. I will manifest my goodness, my kindness, my mercy, and my compassion in your life.

I will walk the journey of life with you. Every time you call on Me, I will be there. I will never leave you nor forsake you."
Who is receiving this word?!

*THE RESTORER'S DAILY GUIDE*

DATE: TUESDAY 17TH JUNE 2025

THEME: *THE HALLOWED BREAD*

MEMORIZE
1 Samuel 21:4
And the priest answered David, and said, There is no common bread under mine hand, but there is hallowed bread; if the young men have kept themselves at least from women.

READ
1 Samuel 21:3-6
Now therefore what is under thine hand? give me five loaves of bread in mine hand, or what there is present.
And the priest answered David, and said, There is no common bread under mine hand, but there is hallowed bread; if the young men have kept themselves at least from women.
And David answered the priest, and said unto him, Of a truth women have been kept from us about these three days, since I came out, and the vessels of the young men are holy, and the bread is in a manner common, yea, though it were sanctified this day in the vessel.
So the priest gave him hallowed bread: for there was no bread there but the shewbread, that was taken from before the LORD, to put hot bread in the day when it was taken away.

THOUGHT FOR THE DAY
*Hallowed breads are for hallowed persons.*

MESSAGE
Today's memory verse and text show that there are general breads and there are consecrated or hallowed breads for consecrated people who have kept themselves from every form of defilement and contamination.

The word "hallowed" simply means: "consecrated or holy."

David had come to the priest for bread to supply to his men and his household, but the priest said, "There are no common breads under mine hand, only the hallowed bread:"

Bread here stands for food or means of sustenance. Allegorically, this represents the bread of life, which is the Word of God. Technically speaking, it means the revelation or special insights into the Word of God, which is not available to everyone, only for consecrated people.

The Bible is a veiled book to unholy people. It is a closed book to unauthorized persons especially those who are polluted with the filths of this world.

Everybody may read the Bible, but access to the revelation in the book is given by God alone, and this is reserved for dedicated individuals. This is why we cannot depend on our human intelligence to understand God's word.

You need to be told that there are things that God shares with consecrated people alone. And that there are things you will never hear from God if you are living in sin because God hides Himself from defiled people. He reveals Himself only to worthy seekers.

*The hallowed bread is for hallowed persons.*

Beloved, the God we serve is a holy God who jealously guards dedicated things; and will not allow unholy people to have access to them.

Dedicated things are reserved for dedicated people.

Dedicated privileges are meant for people who have distinguished themselves by separating themselves from the filths in this world.

God doesn't treat everybody the same. He doesn't give sacred things to the unholy and the profane.

The Bible puts it this way in
Matthew 7:6 "Give not that which is holy unto the dogs, neither cast ye your pearls before swine, lest they trample them under their feet, and turn again and rend you."

There are realms and privileges in God that are not available for the casual and worldly professors of religion.

Beloved, if you will keep yourself pure and Holy henceforth, God will open up the chambers of divine revelation to you.

The Bible says in
Psalms 25:14 "The secret of the LORD is with them that fear him; and he will shew them his covenant."

*There are things God shows to those who fear Him alone.*

Receive grace to separate yourself to Him today in Jesus' name.

ACTION STEPS
1. Ask the Lord to purge you from every form of defilement.
2. Make your yourself available for revelation from God's word by studying the Bible in a prayerful mood.
3. Be determined to stay pure by all means.

PRAYERS
Dear heavenly Father, Thank you for today's devotional guide. Oh God, most Holy, purge me and make me fit for your Holy Word today and always in Jesus' name. Amen.

REMEMBER
*Hallowed breads are for hallowed people.*

AUTHOR: JEDIDIAH DAVID

DAILY READING: Ezekiel 43-44, Judges 16, Acts 11.

HYMN
Thy Word is a lamp to my feet, O Lord,
Thy Word is a light to my way ;
It shines in my soul like a star by night,
And comforts and cheers me by day.

O wonderful, wonderful Word,
My treasure, my hope, and my stay ;
Each promise recorded delights my soul,
And brightens each step of my way.

2
Thy Word is a lamp to my feet, O Lord,
And, trusting in Thee as my all,
Whatever of evil may cross my path,
I never, no, never can fall.

3
Thy Word is a lamp to my feet, O Lord ;
And oh, when Thy glory I see,
For all the rich blessings its truth has brought,
The praise will I give unto Thee.

PLEASE SHARE

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

When a Father Walks Away—Everyone Pays the Price

Let’s say it loud:

The greatest crisis a child can face isn’t poverty.
It’s not bullying.
It’s not the cost of college.

It’s a father who left.

Whether he left through cheating, cowardice, or being pushed out—
the result is the same:

A child with no compass.
A future with no blueprint.
A legacy with no foundation.

Let’s talk about it.

—

1. Fathers Who Cheat Don’t Just Betray Their Wives—They Break Their Children

That affair you had?

It didn’t just destroy trust.
It disrupted an entire bloodline.

Because the day you became a father, you weren’t just a lover.

You became a leader.

And when the leader abandons the structure?

The whole kingdom collapses.

—

2. Women Who Weaponize the Law Are No Better

Let’s not pretend:

The law is on your side.
The courts favor you.
The world will call you brave—even if you’re petty.

But just because you can destroy a man legally doesn’t mean you should.

Pushing a father out because your emotions changed isn’t power.
It’s generational sabotage.

Children don’t care about your ego.

They care about consistency.

—

3. Science Confirms It—Kids Do Better With Fathers Present

You can’t rewrite this.

Studies show: – Boys raised without fathers are more likely to be violent.
– Girls raised without fathers are more likely to be exploited.
– And all children suffer emotionally when dad becomes a ghost.

Single motherhood may be normalized.
But it’s not ideal.

And if you’re offended?

Check the prison stats.
Check the dropout stats.
Check the depression stats.

Father absence is not just a wound.
It’s a curse.

—

4. Men: Stop Starting Families You’re Not Ready to Lead

You want to be a father?

Then stop acting like a frat boy with responsibilities.

– You don’t get to cheat because “she let herself go.”
– You don’t get to start over and pretend your first family doesn’t exist.
– You don’t get to “heal” by disappearing from your children’s lives.

Leadership isn’t convenience.

It’s covenant.

And a man who can’t keep his vows shouldn’t expect loyalty from his children later in life.

—

5. Women: Stop Removing the Father Just Because the Marriage Died

You fell out of love?

Cool.

But that doesn’t cancel his role.

You moved on?

Great.

But that doesn’t mean he disappears.

When you turn your child against their father, you’re not protecting them.
You’re punishing them.

And they’ll resent you for it when they grow up.

—

6. Children Aren’t Resilient—They’re Just Quiet

Don’t be fooled.

That smile is covering confusion.
That silence is hiding trauma.
That “I’m fine” is rehearsed.

They notice: – When your new partner gets more attention.
– When they stop being invited to things.
– When love starts feeling like a competition.

They’re not “adapting.”

They’re breaking quietly.

—

7. Masculinity Must Be Modeled—Not Just Taught

Boys don’t become men through lectures.

They become men by watching one.

And if you’re not around?

They’ll find masculinity in the streets, the screen, or the chaos.

And none of those places build men you’d be proud of.

—

Final Word: You Don’t Stop Being a Father Because You Failed as a Husband

Men:
You may have lost the marriage.
But don’t lose your mission.

Women:
You may be hurt.
But don’t hijack your child’s future to soothe your ego.

Because when a father walks away—
Or is pushed out—

Everyone pays.

The kids.
The legacy.
The soul of the next generation.

So whether you're the man who strayed,
Or the woman who shut the door…

Fix it.

Because children don’t care who was right.

They just want both parents to stay in the fight.

*copied

Psalms 119:89 For ever, O LORD, thy word is settled in heaven.

THE 48 LAWS OF POWER.

A Book written by Robert Greene that offers a Series of Strategies for Obtaining and Maintaining Power in various situations. Here I leave you a summary of the 48 Laws:

1. Don't Outshine the Boss: Make your Superiors feel Superior. Don't expose your Talent too much or you might Trigger their Insecurity.

2.Don't Trust friends too much, use your Enemies: Friends Betray you more easily, but if you Manage to WIN an Enemy, they will be more Loyal.

3. Hide your Intentions: Keep People Off Balance so they can't anticipate your Actions.

4. Always say Less than Necessary: Silence Breeds Power, and Talking too much Reveals your Plans.

5. Protect your Reputation at all Costs: Reputation is the Cornerstone of Power.

6. Call Attention at all Costs: Be Visible to be Relevant.

7. Make others Work for you and Attribute it: Take Advantage of the Work and Effort of others to your Advantage.

8. Make others come to you: Don't Run after Others, make them Look for you.

9. Win with Actions, Never Arguments: Prove your Point through Actions, Not Words.

10. Avoid Losers and Unhappy: The Misfortune of others is Contagious; stay away from those who Bring you Down.

11. Make People Depend on you: If others Depend on you, you're in Control.

12. Disarm with Sincerity and Selective Generosity: Emotional Disarmament will give you an Edge.

13. When you ask for Help, Appeal to the Interests of Others: Appeal to what Benefits Others, not Gratitude or Compassion.

14. Introduce yourself as a Friend, act as a Spy: Learn to Extract Valuable Information from others without them Noticing.

15. Crush your Enemy Completely: Do not let your Enemy Recover, or he will seek Revenge.

16. Use Absence to Increase Respect: The Value of something Increases with Scarcity..

17. Keep Others in Suspense: Be Unpredictable, you will Confuse Others and Gain Power.

18. Do Not Isolate yourself: Loneliness Weakens you; Engage yourself in the Web of Influence.

19. Know Who You’re Dealing With: Choose Your Opponents And Partners Wisely.

20. Don't compromise with anyone: Maintain your Independence so you don't get Caught up in other People's Affairs.

21. Pretend to be a Fool to Catch the Sly: Let others think they have an Advantage over you.

22. Use the Surrender Tactic: Sometimes giving in at the Right Time gives you the Advantage.

23. Focus your Forces: Keep your Energy Focused on what really Matters.

24. Be a Master at Simulation and Disguise: Don't reveal all your cards.

25. Recreate your own identity: Be the architect of your own destiny.

26. Keep your hands clean: Make sure the responsibility for the problems falls on others.

27. Play with people's needs to create devotion: Satisfy their deep desires to earn you their loyalty.

28. Be bold in acting: Timidity is dangerous, boldness is powerful.

29. Plan everything to the end: Having a detailed plan allows you to avoid unpleasant surprises.

30. Make your accomplishments look easy: Minimize the effort you put in to make others think you have innate talent.

31. Control Other People's Options: Guide the decisions of others by giving them limited options.

32. Play with people's fantasy: Appeal to people's emotions and dreams to gain clout.

33. Discover the weaknesses of others: Identify what drives people to manipulate their actions.

34. Be rule in your behavior: Power lies in the appearance of greatness and dignity.

35. Master the art of timing: Don't rush; everything has its right time.

36. Despise what you can’t have: Don’t obsess over things that are out of your reach.

37. Create engaging spectacles: Theatrics and spectacles capture attention.

38. Think as you wish, but behave like everyone else: Do not openly defy social norms.

39. Stir the waters to catch fish: Destabilize others to make mistakes.

40. Despise free: What is free usually comes with a hidden cost.

41. Avoid imitating great men: Forge your own path instead of following in the footsteps of others.

42. Beat the shepherd and the sheep will scatter: He demolishes leaders to weaken his followers.

43. Work on the hearts and minds of others: Conquer the spirit of people to control them.

44. Disarm and anger with mirror effect: Reflect the actions of others to destabilize them.

45. Preach the need for change, but never reform too much: Radical change can generate resistance.

46. Never look too perfect: Perfection breeds envy and haters.

47. Don't exceed your goal: When you achieve what you want, retire on time.

48. Be amorphous: Be adaptable, don't limit yourself to a rigid form.

These laws are designed to handle situations of power, but it's important to consider context and personal ethics when applying them.

Since they say drinking garri makes people go bl1nd my Neighbour advice me to add onions to make my eyes clearer

One word for my Neighbour.....

THE DEVIL'S MISTRESS
PART 6
The morning of Jessica’s birthday dawned bright and golden, but her heart felt heavy.
She sat by the floor-to-ceiling windows of Mr. Scar’s villa, watching the sun rise over Lagos, her fingers tracing absent patterns on the glass. Birthdays had always been a quiet affair in the slums—if they were celebrated at all. Her mother would save for weeks just to buy a small cake, her father would whisper prayers of gratitude over her head, and her siblings would crowd around her, their laughter loud enough to shake their tiny one-room home.
Now, surrounded by luxury, she missed them more than ever.
A single tear slipped down her cheek.
She didn’t hear him enter.
Mr. Scar stood silently, watching her.
He had noticed the change in her these past few days—the way her smiles didn’t quite reach her eyes, the way she stared at her phone but never dialed, the way she flinched whenever someone mentioned family.
He knew why.
And he had planned something.
Clearing his throat, he stepped forward. Jessica quickly wiped her face, forcing a smile.
"You’re up early," she said softly.
Mr. Scar didn’t respond. Just studied her for a long moment, his dark eyes unreadable. Then, without a word, he turned and left.
Jessica’s shoulders slumped.
She shouldn’t have expected anything.
Two hours later, a sleek black dress was delivered to her room.
Silk. Designer. The kind of thing she used to admire in shop windows but could never afford.
A note was pinned to it:
"Wear this. Be ready by 7."
Jessica’s heart skipped.
The restaurant was breathtaking.
An entire five-star venue, emptied of all other guests, decorated in soft gold and white. Crystal chandeliers cast shimmering light over tables laden with food—not just any food, but her favorites. Jollof rice, peppered snails, even the small coconut cakes her mother used to save up to buy her.
Jessica turned in a slow circle, her mouth open.
"What… is all this?"
Mr. Scar stood beside her, his usual scowl in place, but there was something softer in his eyes.
"You thought I forgot," he said.
It wasn’t a question.
Jessica swallowed. "I didn’t think you… cared."
A muscle ticked in his jaw. Then, so quiet she almost missed it:
"I do."
For the first time in months, Jessica laughed.
Really laughed.
Mr. Scar’s men—usually so intimidating—had awkwardly attempted to decorate, hanging lopsided balloons and streamers. A massive cake was wheeled out, and though Mr. Scar refused to wear the ridiculous paper crown the chef offered, Jessica caught the faintest smirk when she put hers on.
Music played. She danced. And for a few hours, the weight on her heart lifted.
But as the night wound down, a familiar sadness crept back in.
Mr. Scar noticed.
"Come," he said, holding out his hand.
"Where are we going?"
"You’ll see."
The drive was quiet.
Jessica watched the city blur past, her mind racing. They left the bustling streets behind, winding into an upscale residential area—the kind where diplomats and billionaires lived.
Her pulse quickened when the car slowed.
A mansion loomed ahead, its gates ornate, its gardens lush under the moonlight.
"Whose house is this?" she whispered.
Mr. Scar didn’t answer. Just stepped out and offered his hand.
Jessica took it, her legs unsteady.
The doorbell echoed like a gunshot in the silent night.
Jessica held her breath.
Then—
The door opened.
And her mother stood there.
Time stopped.
Jessica’s knees gave out. She collapsed right there on the marble steps, her hands flying to her mouth.
"Mama?"
Her mother’s eyes filled with tears. "My baby!"
Then arms were around her—her mother’s familiar scent, her father’s strong embrace, her siblings’ voices shouting her name as they piled into the doorway.
Jessica sobbed.
They were here. They were healthy. Their clothes were new, their faces fuller, their smiles brighter.
How?
She turned, searching for Mr. Scar.
He stood a few paces back, his hands in his pockets, watching.
And for the first time, Jessica understood.
"You…" Her voice broke. "You did this?"
Mr. Scar shrugged, as if it were nothing. "I had them moved months ago."
Months.
That meant…
He had been taking care of them. All this time.
Jessica’s heart swelled until she thought it might burst.
Her father stepped forward, gripping Mr. Scar’s hand. "Thank you," he said, his voice thick. "You saved us."
Mr. Scar looked almost uncomfortable. "I don’t like debts."
But Jessica knew the truth.
This wasn’t about debts.
This was about her.
Later, when the tears had dried and the initial shock had worn off, Jessica found Mr. Scar standing alone in the garden.
She approached slowly.
"You never told me," she said.
He didn’t turn. "Would you have believed me?"
"No."
A pause. Then:
"They’re yours," he said gruffly. "The house. The cars. Everything. It’s in your name."
Jessica’s breath caught.
"Why?"
Finally, he faced her. The moonlight caught the scar on his cheek, the gold in his eyes.
"Because you smiled today," he said simply. "I wanted to see it again."
And with that, he walked away, leaving Jessica standing there, her heart in her throat.
As she watched him go, something inside her shifted.
This man—this dangerous, complicated man—had given her more than just a house or a party.
He had given her back her family.
Her happiness.
Himself.
And for the first time, Jessica didn’t just feel gratitude.
She felt love.
TO BE CONTINUED...

THE DEVIL'S MISTRESS
PART 5
The first time Jessica stepped out of that cold, confined room, her legs trembled—not from fear, but from the sudden rush of freedom.
Mr. Scar stood in the doorway, his massive frame blocking the light from the hall, his expression unreadable. He didn’t speak. Just extended a hand, palm up, waiting.
Jessica hesitated.
"Take it," he growled. *"Or go back inside."
She took it.
His grip was firm, warm, swallowing her slender fingers whole as he led her down the dimly lit corridor.
She expected another prison.
What she got was a paradise.
The new room was nothing like the last.
Large windows draped with silk curtains let in the golden Lagos sunlight. A king-sized bed with Egyptian cotton sheets, a vanity table lined with perfumes and lotions, even a bookshelf stocked with novels—many of them her favorites, though she never told him that.
Jessica turned in slow circles, taking it all in, her heart pounding.
"Why?" she whispered.
Mr. Scar stood by the door, arms crossed, his usual scowl in place. But his eyes—those dark, dangerous eyes—watched her with something close to… satisfaction.
"Because I can," he said simply.
But they both knew it was a lie.
It started with a cough.
A small thing, insignificant. But by nightfall, Jessica was burning up, her skin slick with sweat, her body wracked with shivers.
She barely registered the door bursting open. Barely felt the strong arms lifting her from the bed.
But she would never forget the raw panic in Mr. Scar’s voice when he barked at his men:
"Get a doctor. NOW."
For three days, Jessica drifted in and out of consciousness.
And for three days, Mr. Scar never left her side.
She woke once to find him slumped in a chair beside her bed, his usually immaculate suit wrinkled, his scarred face shadowed with exhaustion. A damp cloth was clutched in his hand, as if he’d been wiping her brow moments before sleep took him.
Another time, she stirred to the feel of strong arms lifting her, holding her against a broad chest as he forced sips of water between her cracked lips.
"Drink," he ordered, his voice rough but oddly gentle.
Jessica obeyed, too weak to argue.
The fever broke on the fourth night.
Jessica woke to the sound of harsh, uneven breathing.
Mr. Scar sat on the edge of her bed, his head bowed, his shoulders trembling. Moonlight spilled through the windows, glinting off the wet tracks on his cheeks.
Tears.
The most feared man in Lagos was crying.
Over her.
Jessica’s breath caught.
He must have heard, because his head snapped up, his expression hardening instantly. But it was too late—she’d seen it. The vulnerability. The fear.
"Don’t," he warned, voice hoarse.
She said nothing. Just reached out, her fingers brushing his.
He didn’t pull away.
As Jessica grew stronger, Mr. Scar’s behavior grew more… confusing.
He allowed her to wander the villa freely, though guards always lingered just out of sight. He had chefs prepare her favorite meals, though she never told him what she liked.
And at night—
At night, he came to her room.
Not to hurt her. Not to demand anything.
Just to be there.
He would sit on the edge of her bed, sometimes reading, sometimes just watching her with those dark, unreadable eyes. And when the nightmares came—because they always did—he was there, pulling her into his arms without a word, holding her until the shaking stopped.
One night, as she drifted off against his chest, she heard him murmur something that made her heart stop:
"Please don’t leave me."
Jessica should have been afraid.
This was the man who’d locked her up, who’d threatened to kill her, who ruled the underworld with an iron fist.
But as the days passed, she found herself watching him too. Noticing the way his stern expression softened when he thought she wasn’t looking. The way his hands, so capable of violence, were endlessly gentle with her.
And one terrifying day, she realized the truth:
She didn’t want to leave.
The household noticed the change.
Hardened mafia men gaped as their boss carried Jessica to the garden when she was too weak to walk. The maids whispered when he personally tasted her food before letting her eat, a habit born from paranoia but now tinged with something else.
Protection.
Possession.
Love.
But no one dared say a word.
Because while Mr. Scar had clearly softened for Jessica, he was still a monster to everyone else.
The most surprising thing?
He never crossed the line.
No inappropriate touches. No demands. Just quiet companionship and a respect that left Jessica breathless.
One evening, as he turned to leave her room, she found herself speaking without thinking:
"Stay."
Mr. Scar froze. When he turned back, his eyes were blazing.
"Do you know what you’re asking?" he growled.
Jessica held his gaze. "Yes."
For a long moment, they just stared at each other. Then, slowly, he shook his head.
"Not like this," he said softly. *"Not until, you’re sure."
And with that, he left.
TO BE CONTINUED...

THE DEVIL'S MISTRESS
PART 3
The night Jessica met Mr. Scar, the air smelled like danger and expensive cologne.
She had been in the VIP lounge of La Reine, the most exclusive club in Lagos, where rich men paid to forget their sins. Lady Lily had warned her about this job—*"Don’t ask questions. Don’t look him in the eye too long. Just be perfect."
But the moment he walked in, Jessica knew this man was different.
Mr. Scar wasn’t handsome in the traditional sense. His face was all sharp edges—a jagged scar running from his left eyebrow down to his jaw, a souvenir from a life lived in blood. His suit was black, tailored to fit his broad frame like a second skin, and his gold watch glinted under the dim lights.
But it was his eyes that froze her. Dark, calculating, the kind of eyes that saw everything.
He didn’t leer at her like the others. He studied her, like she was a puzzle he wanted to solve.
"You’re new," he said, his voice low and rough, like gravel.
Jessica forced herself to smile, the way she’d been trained. "First time here, sir."
He smirked, swirling his whiskey. "You’re lying."
Her pulse spiked.
For hours, they talked. Not the empty, lust-filled chatter of her usual clients, but *real* conversation—politics, books, even her studies. He listened when she spoke, his gaze never leaving her face.
"Why do you do this?" he asked suddenly.
Jessica hesitated. The truth sat heavy on her tongue—Because my family is starving. Because I have no choice.
But she gave him the practiced answer instead. "Money."
Mr. Scar laughed, but it wasn’t cruel. "Finally, an honest woman."
And just like that, she saw it—the flicker of interest in his eyes.
She had his attention.
And in his world, attention was dangerous.
Three nights later, Jessica was snatched off the street.
A black van screeched to a halt beside her, and before she could scream, gloved hands yanked her inside. A hood was thrown over her head.
When it was ripped off, she was in a warehouse, tied to a chair. A man in a crisp white suit—Mr. Scar’s rival, Kazeem—smiled down at her.
"Pretty thing," he mused, tapping her cheek with a knife. *"Scar likes you. That makes you useful."
Her blood turned to ice.
"Seduce him," Kazeem ordered. "Get the ledger with his black-market deals. Do it, and I’ll pay you triple what he ever could."
Jessica’s mind raced. If she refused, she was dead. If she agreed…
She was playing with fire.
She tried. God, she tried.
For a week, she met Mr. Scar—dinners, late-night drives, even his penthouse. She laughed at his jokes, let him touch her, all while searching for that damn ledger.
But he was smarter than she expected.
One evening, as she pretended to sleep in his bed, she heard him on the phone. "She’s working for Kazeem."
Her heart stopped.
The next thing she knew, a hand fisted in her hair, yanking her up. Mr. Scar’s face was a mask of cold fury.
"You ****** girl," he snarled. "Did you really think I wouldn’t know?"
Terror choked her. "I—I had no choice—"
"Everyone has a choice," he hissed. Then, to the guards looming behind him: "Take her."
The basement was damp; the walls stained with things Jessica didn’t want to think about.
Mr. Scar paced in front of her, his rage a living thing. "I trusted you," he spat, like the words tasted bitter.
Jessica shook, tears streaming. "They threatened me! I didn’t want to—"
"Liar." He backhanded her.
Pain exploded across her cheek. But worse than the sting was the betrayal in his eyes.
And then—
He stopped. Stared at her. Really looked at her.
For the first time, Jessica let him see the truth. The fear. The desperation. The shame.
Something in his expression shifted.
"Who owns you?" he demanded.
She swallowed blood. "No one."
A long silence. Then, slowly, he crouched in front of her, tilting her chin up.
"Wrong answer," he murmured. "Now you’re mine."
TO BE CONTINUED...