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My billionaire husband’s mąnh00d was completely d£ad, so I set my eyes on his two apprentices. I was twenty-six. Chief was sixty-two. I didn't marry him to die in poverty in the trenches of Lagos. But for four solid years, my kponmo was an abandoned, crying desert. To make matters worse, his two wicked, grown daughters from his first marriage absolutely hated my guts. They treated me like a glorified maid and were actively plotting to throw me out onto the streets without a single kobo the moment Chief breathed his last. To survive in that massive Lekki empire, I needed an heir. I needed a donor with pure, strong genetics, someone completely under my control. My eyes landed on Obi and Chike. Obi was twenty-four, broad-shouldered, and quiet. Chike was twenty, with a chest carved from pure stone. They were brothers who came to Lagos searching for greener pastures after their poor mother died in the village. They lived in our boys' quarters, washing cars and acting like terrified, loyal servants to their billionaire master. The Friday Chief flew to London for his two-week medical checkup, I decided to stop suffering in silence. I locked the massive compound gates. I buzzed the intercom and called the older brother, Obi, up to the master bathr00m. I told him I had a highly expensive, heavy Moroccan body scrub to apply, and the housemaids' hands were too weak. "Take off your uniform so you don't stain it," I commanded smoothly. "And meet me in the sh0w£r." "M-Madam?" he whispered, his voice cracking with pure terror at the thought of crossing his master's boundary. "Are you deaf, Obi?" I asked, dropping my silk robe completely to the floor right in front of him. His breath hitched. He swallowed hard, str!pp£d down to his boxers, and followed me into the steamy b@thr00m. I stood under the hot water, nąk£d. Obi's rough, calloused hands shook as he began to scrub my back. Through the thick steam, I could feel the intense, radiating heat of his gbolala standing at full attention just inches behind my vee, inside his b0x£rs. I took the soap pretending to lather my hands and let it fall the ground. "Clumsy me," I breathed. I didn't wait for him to move. I slowly b£nt, making sure my @§§ was f@c£d directly at H!m. My l£gś were slightly apart for balance, completely showing the kponmo to H!m I froze there. Behind me, I heard Obi gasping. Obi didn't try to help me pick up the soap. Instead, he stepped cl0s£, his gbolala was connecting to my vee. I let out a soft m0@n, ready to push backward and take the gbolala completely inside the kponmo right there on the slippery tiles. But right as he positioned Mr. gbolala to break in to my vaj. The b@thr00m glass door slid open! "Brother Obi, Chief's eldest daughter just drove into the..." It was Chike, the twenty-year-old younger brother. He stood frozen at the doorway, his eyes wide with absolute shock, staring directly to The kponmo about to sw@ll0w his older brother's gbolala "Brother what are you doing? Chief has been so... " Chike in shock was about to scream Just then the someone opened the door downstairs and was coming in To be Continued...

“How can Shiyla just arrive and receive what I have waited for?” she said angrily to the other maidens. “Whoever helps me destroy her image before the prince will be rewarded when I become a princess—and later, queen.” But there was a greater danger none of us could ignore. The king. The king was known for his wandering eyes for beautiful young maidens. Every maiden knew it, even if no one dared speak openly. One evening, he summoned me to his chamber. I thought I was called to arrange his bed or tidy the room. But his words told a different story. The queen was away that night. The king looked at me for a long moment and said softly, “Come closer.” Fear crawled through my bones. He spoke of my beauty, my obedience, and how loyalty should be rewarded. His intentions were clear without being spoken aloud. My heart raced. I realized then that my presence in the palace had drawn dangerous attention—attention that could destroy me if I made one wrong move. That night, I learned that being chosen is not always a blessing. Sometimes, it is a curse dressed in royal silk. I was brought by the prince who asked me to be loyal to him and not allow any man to touch me but now his father the king was luring me to himself. Episode 1 Written by: © Gambo Elvis To be continued only on: PAUL Elvis christian stories Do you want more of this story

THE MAID THE KING WANTED It was already too late when I finally understood that my acceptance into the palace was never just about work. When I was chosen by the prince to serve as a maid in the royal palace, I never imagined that the king desired my presence more in his private chamber than in the courtyards where maidens worked. I thought I was there to sweep floors, wash linens, and earn a living. I never knew fate had woven something darker and more complicated around my destiny. From the very first week, I became the most disliked maid in the palace. I came there only to work honestly and send money home to take care of my sick mother. Yet whispers followed me everywhere. The maidens discovered that the prince treated me differently, and that alone was enough to turn their hearts against me. I never truly understood why I was so hated. I was new, poor, and unimportant—or so I thought. I was brought into the palace personally by the prince, and that alone made me suspicious in their eyes. The first time I ever saw the prince was in the market square. That day, the sun was hot and unforgiving. I was hawking cocoyams with a basket balanced carefully on my head, shouting prices with a tired voice. My mother was ill, and I needed money to buy her medicine. My father passed away long ago, leaving us with nothing but stubborn hope. Suddenly, guards surrounded me. “Beautiful maiden,” the prince called. “My prince,” I trembled, lowering my eyes. “I hope I have not offended you?” “How do you know I am offended?” he asked calmly. “Because I am.” Fear rushed through me. “I am sorry, my prince. Tell me how I offended you, and I will correct it.” “You offended me,” he said, “because a maiden as beautiful as you should not be hawking cocoyams under the burning sun.” I swallowed hard. “My mother is sick, my prince.” “Is it your duty to care for your sick mother?” he asked gently, then paused. “Where is your father?” Tears gathered in my eyes, and I could not speak. He noticed immediately and frowned. “I did not mean to reopen old sadness,” he said softly. “But you should have come to the palace for help.” “I do not know the road to the palace,” I replied. “And even if I did, no one would allow me close to you. Please, what can I do to appease you?” “Come and work in the palace,” he said. “Where I can see your pretty face every day. I will take care of your mother if you accept to work as my maid.” “As a maid, my prince,” I said quickly. “Even as a servant, I will gladly come if you save my mother.” That was how everything began. I never knew that a poor maiden, the daughter of a struggling farmer and widow, could attract such attention. When I arrived at the palace, murmurs followed me. “Since she came, the prince treats her differently,” they whispered. What they did not know was the secret between the queen and her son. One evening, the queen had given the prince a royal necklace and said, “The day you see the maiden you want as your wife, place this necklace on her neck. Let her wear it always. When I see it on her, I will understand. But do not tell her your intentions. I will watch her character first.” Unfortunately, the secret did not remain secret. Wantoh, one of the palace maidens, was deeply in love with the prince. She overheard the conversation while pretending to clean nearby. For two long years, she tried everything to win his attention. Then I arrived—a mere maid—and suddenly the necklace she had dreamed of was no longer on the prince’s neck. The day he placed it on mine, my hands trembled. “For your beautiful smile that brings peace to my heart,” he said, “wear this necklace. It carries good fortune.” “I am only a maid,” I protested. “I am not worthy.” He smiled and placed it on me himself. “It represents royalty, loyalty, and trust. Promise me you will never remove it.” “Why, my prince?” I asked. “One day,” he said, “you will understand.” That was the day Wantoh’s hatred for me became fire.

To be continued

THE YOUNG WIFE: HE LOST HIS LIFE TRYING TO PLEASE HIS WIFE: Episode 6 We were in our late father’s house, trying to live normally and feel comfortable again. It was almost one year since we lost our dad, and the pain was still fresh. That morning, something happened that shocked me deeply. A young African man walked downstairs straight from my late father’s room. Without greeting anyone, he grabbed the remote control and changed the TV program my junior brother and I were watching. It was a weekend morning, and we were just trying to relax. I turned to him and asked boldly, “Who are you?” He looked at me with pride and replied, “I am Shiru’s boyfriend.” I said nothing, but one thing was clear—this man was rude and full of himself. Later, I realized that my stepmother had used my late father’s wealth and property to bring a strange man into the house. My father’s house. The same house he built with my late mother. The same wealth my father and mother struggled together to acquire. Now, there was another man in the house—an idle man who spent the whole day sleeping, pressing his phone, eating, and watching television. This happened because my father never wrote a will. As his legal wife, my stepmother took full control of his company, his assets, and his bank accounts. She behaved like everything belonged to her alone. She also had a son for my father, and that gave her the confidence to treat my junior brother and me as if we had no rights in the house. Lolika, her boyfriend, moved around the house lazily, always looking for food or a place to sleep. He had gradually become the so-called man of the house. I often wondered—if my father had been as lazy as this man, would he have achieved half of what he left behind? My stepmother wanted a man she could control. That was why she kept him around. She fed him, clothed him, and took care of him like a child. The man wasn’t even ashamed to depend completely on a woman. What hurt me the most was the way he behaved like the house belonged to him, while my junior brother and I were treated like unwanted guests. Anytime he asked me to help him and I refused, he would report me to my aunt with twisted stories. He enjoyed causing trouble for me. At some point, I felt extremely uncomfortable around him. The way he looked at me made my skin crawl. Honestly, what did I expect from a man who survived on a woman’s pocket? He couldn’t go out to look for work like his mates. I began to feel unsafe with him in the house. His behavior towards me became strange, and fear crept into my heart. I was scared he could cross boundaries. One day, I was in my room and dozed off. What happened that day made me realize that my stepmother didn’t just bring her boyfriend into the house—she brought danger along with him. At that point, I knew something had to be done. My junior brother and I needed to fight for our rights in that house. That day changed everything… By © Gambo Elvis TBC… I have published one of my books on an online store. Who is ready to read

YOUNG WIFE: HE LOST HIS LIFE TRYING TO PLEASE HIS WIFE: EPISODE 5 I knew she was responsible for my father’s end, but the biggest problem was how I was going to prove it. Deep inside me, I was sure. That woman knew exactly what she was doing. I immediately called the police, and not long after, an inspector arrived at the house. My father was still lying there, motionless. After observing him closely for a while, the inspector turned to the suspect and asked, “Madam, can you explain what happened before he suddenly collapsed?” “Yes, inspector,” she replied. “Go ahead,” he said. Then my stepmother, Shiru, began her story. “My husband insisted on being close to me that morning before getting out of bed. As his wife, I had no objections. It is my duty to be there for my husband. Everything started normally, but at a certain point, he began breathing heavily. Suddenly, he held his chest and collapsed on me.” The inspector paused for a moment and asked, “Did he complain of any discomfort before then?” “No, inspector. Everything seemed fine until it happened,” she replied. The inspector nodded and continued his investigation. They examined the scene, my father’s position, and his medical records. Later, another doctor’s report confirmed that my father had an underlying heart condition. According to the report, his heart failed due to physical strain. His body could not handle stress at that moment because his heart was already weak. The case was concluded as a natural case of shock. But I knew better. I knew my stepmother was responsible for what happened. She knew about my father’s condition. She knew his limits, yet she allowed him to push himself too far. Still, no one believed me. I had no evidence, so I kept quiet. Even when I tried to explain that his wife encouraged him to go beyond what his age and health could handle, nobody listened. To them, it was just fate. But that was not all. It was only the beginning of her wickedness. After my father’s burial, I wasn’t thinking about his property or money. I stayed in the house, quiet and broken, still mourning him in my own way. As tradition demanded, I shaved my head to pay tribute to my late father. Life felt empty, and the house no longer felt like home. It was not yet six months after Daddy passed away. One evening, my junior brother, Shiytum, walked into our late father’s room. He was searching through the drawers, hoping to find some important documents. Since Daddy’s end, no one had spoken about his assets or finances. My brother was in the university and needed money to continue his education. Earlier that day, he had told me he needed money for handouts and to settle some school matters. We were already struggling, but we didn’t expect what happened next. That evening shocked us. My stepmother suddenly walked into the room and found Shiytum searching for Daddy’s documents. Immediately, she shouted at him and ordered him to leave the room. Not because he was doing something wrong, but because she didn’t want him near anything related to money. He tried to explain politely, “I’m sorry, mom. You were not around, and I needed some money to solve some issues in school.” She replied harshly, “I am not your father who used to spoil you with money. I am the one in charge now. Before you enter my room, you must seek my permission.” I understood that she had some right since it was still my late father’s room, but I also knew the truth. It wasn’t about rules or respect. It was greed and control. What happened later shocked us even more. Written by © Gambo Elvis TBC… I feel like bringing another story. Should I continue.

THE YOUNG WIFE: EPISODE 4: He thought he could please his wife in the room and ended up losing his life. "It will help me handle my wife better. She will notice me this time." “Ha! Dad,” I exclaimed, worried. “At your age, I don’t think you need all these stimulants. They are not good for you, especially your heart.” “This one is just a local remedy,” my father replied confidently. “It will cleanse my system and make my body stronger.” “The problem is not your strength, Dad,” I insisted. “It’s your age.” But my father never listened. He was bent on doing everything possible to satisfy his young wife. I knew that my stepmother’s constant complaints about my father’s energy were not just about marital closeness. It felt deeper than that, darker. She wanted him to push himself beyond his limits. It was obvious she didn’t want to use her own hands to end his life. Instead, she kept encouraging him to do more, knowing fully well that his body could not handle it. If he collapsed in the process and ended up in a coffin, then her mission would be complete. At first, I thought she was only acting that way so my dad wouldn’t suspect her of being unfaithful. I assumed she wanted to protect her image. But as time went on, I realized that was not the case. She had an agenda, and it wasn’t a good one. I don’t know what truly happened that night. I only know the version she told everyone the following morning. That morning, she suddenly ran out of the bedroom screaming, “I am finished! Come quick oo!” The whole house was thrown into confusion. We were already awake. I was with my younger brother, preparing to have breakfast. Her shouting drew our attention immediately. “What is it?” I asked. “Your father!” she cried. At that moment, Kika—her son—was still sleeping in his room. I became confused. “What is wrong with my father?” I asked anxiously. “He collapsed this morning and didn’t wake up again,” she said. “What do you mean he collapsed?” I asked sharply. She hesitated before replying. “He suddenly held his chest and fell. I thought he was just tired.” “What!” I screamed. We rushed into the room. My father was lying still on the bed, like a log of wood. No movement. No response. “Dad! Dad!” I shook him repeatedly, but he was stiff. My heart sank. Tears rolled down my face as reality hit me hard. I ran out to grab my phone and dialed the doctor’s number. He picked almost immediately. “Doctor, please can you rush to the house?” I cried. “Is there any problem?” he asked, already sensing danger from my voice. “I don’t know what is wrong with my dad,” I said in panic. “He’s not breathing properly, and his heart is not responding.” “I warned him to take it easy with—” the doctor started, then stopped. “I’ll be there shortly.” Within twenty minutes, the doctor arrived. I led him straight to the bedroom. He checked my father carefully with his stethoscope, hoping for a sign of life. After a few moments, he slowly shook his head. At that point, I knew the truth even before he spoke. “We lost him,” the doctor said quietly. Anger rushed through me like fire. I turned to my stepmother and shouted, “This was your plan!” “What plan?” she asked, pretending to be shocked. “You pushed him! You kept pressuring him. You think I didn’t notice?” I yelled. But it was already too late. My father was gone. That was when I realized I should have taken my warnings more seriously and fought harder to protect him. Consumed by pain and anger, I grabbed my phone and called the police. I reported the incident as suspicious, like a serious crime scene. I wanted my stepmother questioned properly and held accountable. Because deep down, I believed my father didn’t just faint forever like that. He was pushed to his end. What do you think happened to her dad? Written by: © Gambo Elvis TBC…

THE YOUNG WIFE Episode 3 He Lost His Life Trying to Please His Wife Written by © Gambo Elvis Things really escalated one evening when my dad attended a party with his young wife. It was a classy event, full of music, laughter, and people showing off. While they stood together, a young man walked up to them confidently and greeted politely. “Good day, sir.” “Good day, young man,” my father replied calmly. Then the young man added, “Please sir, can I speak to your granddaughter?” My father felt deeply insulted. His face changed instantly as he replied angrily, “She is my wife, not my daughter.” The young man laughed awkwardly and said, “But sir, you look old enough to be her grandfather.” That was when my dad frowned hard, and the young man quickly walked away. The damage was already done. Later, when it was time to dance, several young men approached her, asking for a dance, clearly thinking my dad was her grandfather. It wasn’t that my father looked wrinkled or weak, but the truth was simple—he was far older than her. A few days later, my dad went to the hospital for a routine checkup. That visit marked the beginning of everything. That was when his wife finally set her plan in motion. The doctor looked at my father seriously and said, “Your heart is not as strong as it used to be. You must take things easy. If you overstrain yourself, it could lead to heart complications, and that could be very dangerous.” My father laughed it off and didn’t take the doctor seriously. But his wife listened very well. Too well. At that time, she was already driving one of his cars. My father owned a company, our house was a mansion, and he had other estates and assets. Marrying my father was not about love—it was a mission. She had her eyes on his wealth. And as his wife, she had access to almost everything, especially if he had no will. I began to suspect her intentions. One day, I overheard her on a phone call. She didn’t know I was close enough to hear her. She said quietly, “My hands must be clean. Nobody will suspect me if anything happens naturally.” The person on the other end asked, “What do you mean by that?” She replied, “The doctor already said his heart can’t handle too much strain. I will only encourage him to push himself beyond his limits. If anything happens, it will look natural.” Though I couldn’t hear every word clearly, I understood enough. Her plan was not to harm him directly, but to use his age and weakness against him, knowing his heart couldn’t cope. She was tired of being with an old man older than her grandfather. She wanted financial security, not companionship. Meanwhile, my father was worried. He felt he wasn’t doing enough to satisfy his young wife. So he kept pushing himself, trying harder, ignoring his age and health. If I hadn’t calmed him down at some point, something bad would have happened earlier. He even started jogging alone every morning. I begged him to stop going alone because of his age. Eventually, he joined a group of elderly men who exercised together. They told him exercise was good for stamina and general health. But nobody reminded him that an old engine cannot run like a brand-new one. If pushed beyond capacity, it would break down. One day, I noticed a strange bottle in his room. He was drinking from it every morning and evening. I was Curious and asked him, “Ah ah, Dad… what is this thing you’ve been drinking?” He laughed and replied, “My daughter, this is what I need now to be up to the task.” “What task?” I asked. The answer he gave me left me completely shocked. Who wants more of this story? TBC…

THE YOUNG WIFE: HE LOST HIS LIFE TRYING TO PLEASE HIS WIFE EPISODE 2 Our dad asked for our opinion, but we told him that if he was truly sure he would be happy with her, then there was no problem. After all, he was an adult and had the right to choose who he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. Still, I was deeply worried. Anytime Shiru was not around, I would beg my father. “Dad, please don’t marry her. She is too young.” “Why?” he would ask calmly. “She loves me, and I love her.” “That is not love, Dad. It is comfort,” I said. “She feels safe and secure around you because you provide everything she needs and ever wanted. She is comfortable with your kindness, and that is all.” “She loves me,” my father insisted. “You are wrong,” I replied. “She is still too young. When she starts experiencing life and seeing her mates with their young husbands, the outings they go for, the fun they have together, she will start seeing you as her grandfather.” “Love has nothing to do with age, my dearest,” my father said. No matter what I said, my father insisted and continued the relationship. At a certain point, she became pregnant. My father was very happy and told us that the pregnancy would make it easier for her to accept him fully as her husband. He believed everything would fall into place. While my dad was excited about marrying the woman he loved, I couldn’t help but feel sad. To me, it felt like my father was marrying someone he could easily pass for his granddaughter. I objected again, but he insisted. The day he proposed to her, she was overjoyed and accepted without hesitation. Later, she suggested that it would be better for them to get married before people found out about her pregnancy. My dad had no objection since it was what she wanted. During her pregnancy, they seemed happy together. My father took very good care of her, making sure she lacked nothing. Sometimes, I had my doubts and even suspected that the pregnancy might not be his, but my father assured me confidently that he was the father. When Shiru, whom I used to call by her name, officially became my stepmother, I could no longer address her that way. I had to start calling her “Mommy,” which felt strange to me. When my father wanted to write his will, she suggested there was no need. To clear all doubts, my father even went as far as conducting a DNA test to confirm that Kika was truly his son. He turned out to be our stepbrother. When the child was over a year old, I noticed that my dad had changed. He looked worried and withdrawn. One evening, I met him sitting alone in the living room, deep in thought. “Dad, what is it?” I asked. He didn’t want to talk at first. “It’s something that concerns only adults and married people,” he said. “But I’m already over nineteen and will soon be twenty,” I reminded him gently. “You can tell me.” After much hesitation, he finally spoke. “My wife is complaining that I am not able to satisfy her. She says I get tired easily and cannot keep up like she expects.” I sighed deeply. “Dad, this is exactly what I was trying to warn you about. It has just started.” “I will be fine,” he said. “I will see a doctor, join a gym, and improve my diet.” But instead of things getting better, my father became more worried with each passing day. Later, he confided in me again that his wife had warned him that if he was not strong enough, he was pushing her into being tempted by younger men. From that day on, my dad changed completely. Anytime he saw a man talking to his wife, his mood would change. He became suspicious, restless, and insecure. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing her, and the fear ate him up slowly from the inside. Little did we know that this fear would soon lead to something tragic. Written by: © Gambo Elvis TBC…

Then he said the words that changed everything. “I want to make Shiru my wife. Since your mother left us, she has been supportive and caring. She helped me survive the pain of losing your mother.” We stared at him in shock. Our faces dropped. We frowned. Speechless. Written by: © Gambo Elvis TBC…

THE YOUNG WIFE: HE LOST HIS LIFE TRYING TO PLEASE HIS WIFE IN BED. Episode 1 My father was no longer at the age for complex 'bedmathics'. That was how we jokingly described the love life of couples who still practiced all kinds of energy-demanding styles behind closed doors. But not my father. He was far beyond that stage of life. At least, that was what we believed. Sometimes, deep down, I suspected everything that happened later was carefully planned by my stepmother. My father married my mother when he was in his early forties. They gave birth to two children—myself and my younger brother. I was the first child, and my brother followed some years later. My father was a wealthy man, well respected, kind, and generous. As the first son of his family, he carried a lot of responsibility on his shoulders. He spent most of his time and money helping his younger siblings through school and securing jobs for them. He settled some financially and even sponsored one of his brothers to travel abroad. Sadly, by the time he started planning properly for his own future, it was already late. At forty-three, he married my mother. She was thirty then, thirteen years younger than him. Their marriage was legal and blessed in church. They loved each other deeply and lived peacefully. During this time, my father also supported a young girl named Shiru. She wasn’t related to him, but he sponsored most of her education after noticing how brilliant and hardworking she was. Shiru always came around during holidays to greet my parents. She was polite, respectful, and very beautiful. She often said that without my father’s help, she would have dropped out of school. My dad admired her intelligence and was proud of her academic excellence. When I was eighteen, tragedy struck our family. My mother fell sick. What we thought was a minor illness turned serious within weeks. Sadly, after just one month, she passed away. It was sudden. No one expected it. We were a happy family, and my parents were very compatible. My father was already in his sixties when he lost the love of his life. Her lost broke him completely. He became withdrawn, quiet, and emotionally unstable. That was when Shiru returned home for the funeral. She stayed around to console her benefactor, a grieving widower and father of two teenagers. Shiru was in her early twenties then. My father was in his early sixties. No one imagined that simple comfort would turn into something else. After the burial, Shiru didn’t leave. She kept coming around, checking on my dad, cooking for him, and sitting with him for long hours. She always reminded him of how much he had done for her. “At first, you were like the father I never had,” she used to say. Everyone understood why she said that. Her mother was a struggling single parent who couldn’t afford her school fees. My father stepped in when he noticed her potential. But after my mother was gone, her words began to change. Instead of saying, “You are the father I never had,” she started teasing him lightly. “Now that I am grown,” she would say with a smile, “I see you like the husband I don’t yet have. I wish my future husband could be like you.” We didn’t suspect anything. Not for a second. We never imagined that my father—or Shiru—could feel something deeper. Then we began to notice strange things. Shiru spent most of her time with my father. She stayed late into the night. Sometimes, she even slept in his room under the excuse of taking care of him. I wasn’t comfortable with it, but I kept quiet out of respect. After several months—almost a year—my father called my brother and me into the living room. Shiru was sitting beside him. He cleared his throat and called our names. “Shiytum and Forben!” “Yes, Dad,” we answered. “There is something I want to tell you,” he said. “In fact,” he corrected himself, “there is something we want to tell you.” My heart started racing.