Introduction
“I am not Dani Alves”– An anecdote about Kwaku and the love, or curse, of his life. Kwaku is coerced into granting his father’s last wish (a blessing) for fame and the love of fun and money. However, things turn for the worst with Kwaku when he messes with his blessing and agrees to an open marriage with the most principled and intelligent lady he has ever met.
Nhyira: this means “blessing.” That was her name—the name of the lady who turned my life around. It is often said that when a blessing is not valued, it will be taken away from you. For me, it wasn’t just taken away from me. It paid me back my deadly coin of bitterness. I’m scavenging through websites, blogs, and vlogs, and all I can see is my scandal with her—my blessing turned into my biggest curse. “I am not Dani Alves”, but here I was, completely intrigued by the lady who was willing to turn our entire lives upside down, because I had failed to see what my father saw. My father is the genesis of it all.
To uphold the integrity of real-life situations, the identities of characters and settings in this story are protected for confidentiality and privacy. Hence, the real names of characters and settings have been concealed.
Chapter 1: The Envious Relationship
“Kwaku, Nhyira is a beautiful young lady—very hard-working too. Don’t you think you should make a move?” My father cracked me up the first time he tried to play matchmaker with Nhyira and me.
Nhyira was my father’s personal executive assistant, his secretary, and later, his managerial advisor. My father saw her beyond that; he saw her as the daughter he never had. There were times he would unprofessionally but affectionately call her “my daughter” in the office space. He would take her to a full-hour lunch and talk to her. I could envy them from a distance, but I didn’t blame my father. I wasn’t the ideal son, but Nhyira was, or, well, is pretty good at whatever she finds herself doing. She consciously makes an effort to be industrious. She pretty much covered my arse when my father was alive. On the other hand, I was all about fun and games, and a guy in the game is always a guy in the game.
“What’s the matter, boy? Do those things in between your legs make you see unwell through your eyes?” My father teased me when I told him Nhyira wasn’t my type.
Nhyira is one fine babe—don’t get me wrong—but damn, she was too responsible—the ideal wife material; too many principles, prim and proper. On the other hand, I am the ‘incarnation of my father’s playboy days’, as my mother used to describe me. After she died, I reinvented myself in the game; I became the boss. I just wanted to make money, have fun, and make money again. If you see me working hard continuously, it means I need to double my paycheck, and I’m a complete sucker for responsibilities, so no babies (I thank God for that). My head is always in the game. I never make the mistake of forgetting to use protection. I am always alert.
Chapter 2: His Death
On my father’s dying bed, he couldn’t be more hilarious. “Kwaku, boy, won’t you even decide to grant your father’s dying wish?” He asked with what looked like a smirk. I knew he was up to his games again, but my vision was blurry because of the tears in my eyes.
“What is it, dad?”
“Nhyira, boy. Nhyira! Just go on a date with her. Maybe it will convince you to finally tie the knot.” The tears left my eyes immediately. I was already rolling on the floor. Just then, Nhyira walked in. Then that was my cue.
I laughed really hard. “Even on your mentor’s dying bed, he manages to keep my lungs roaring with laughter.” I told Nhyira and walked out of the room, giggling at the words “tie the knot.”
That was the last I heard from my father—well, physically, till the will.
When I heard of his sudden demise, I drifted into a dark place of grief and emptiness, realising that I was now an orphan. His death was the city’s recognizable loss, since he was a tower of wealth and influence in the city, and all media houses gave him a befitting memorial upon hearing of his death, aggravating my grief. I felt the weight of responsibility dawn on me—a burden I wasn’t prepared for. This got me drinking a bottle of vodka every hour, but each glass was a futile attempt to drown out my pain of loss.
Chapter 3: His Legacy
My father did well with building a legacy or building upon my grandfather’s legacy, with three estates in Venezuela, a transport system in Accra and Kumasi, art galleries in Paris and Venice, and the headquarters of Mensah Group of Companies in Accra. He was just like me at his young age—full of love for fun and money—until he met my mother. I wasn’t surprised he was charmed by her. She was one of a kind. For me, I had vowed never to be wooed by a woman, considering my wealthy lineage—it would be all she would love me for.
Due to my great-grandfather’s affluence by starting the Mensah Group of Companies, immediately a foetus is formed in the Mensah lineage; you’re more or less a millionaire baby. This legacy is passed on from generation to generation.
The media covers stories on each company under the Mensah Group of Companies daily; our growth is envious and commendable. We may not be the first family in the country, but our riches spread far and wide, and with this much wealth, I was not surprised at the turnout at the will reading.
Chapter 4: The Will
It was a sunny morning, just an hour after I had woken up from a short sleep. I had been drinking with my friends the night before, trying to bury my misery. To my surprise, I got into a room full of relatives and people I did not know. Extremely confident that I was the heir to everything my father had, I didn’t understand the forum of hungry money eaters gathered in the family lawyer’s office. Were they hoping for something else?
“Thank you for making it here, everyone.” He then gave a lengthy introduction about how the will was authentic and signed by the deceased. Then he read to us the most important part we had all been waiting for.
Chapter 5: This Must Be A Joke
As precisely as possible, the art galleries abroad were willed to my lovely aunt, my mother’s sister in Italy; the transport system was willed to my favourite uncle, my father’s cousin in Kumasi; and the estates were willed to Nhyira. Now, we waited patiently for the lawyer to tell us who had won the biggest shark in the ocean—Mensah Group of Companies—but he sent everyone out and asked me to stay behind.
“Your father willed Mensah Group of Companies to you on the condition that you stay married to Nhyira, your father’s managerial advisor.” The lawyer told me and sighed heavily.
The glasses, which I had on to hide my bulging red eyes from last night’s hangover, fell off immediately. I was amazed at what I was hearing—I’m not getting the fortune I’m entitled to unless I stay married to a woman I’m less attracted to? I burst out into laughter, waiting to hear the part where it was all a joke.
That part never came—actually, if I refused, the government was to take up the Mensah Group of Companies and make it state-owned. That’s literally losing everything, considering the nepotism and favouritism of our time. My fortune and riches were in the hands of a principled young lady of 28 years. I stormed out of the office, figuring out my next move: whether to live a mediocre life or the life of a billionaire at 32 years old.
I had a life-changing choice to make. Driving at a hundred on the highway, I sped along with my thoughts to my garage. I stayed in the car for a moment, just thinking and screaming to myself. I turned to the passenger seat and started asking my dad some questions: “Did you hate me this much, dad? Why would you do this to me, dad? Is it because I could not grow up to be the kind of responsible man you wanted?” He just looked at me and did not say a word. It took me a minute to actually realise I was hallucinating.
I had to make a decision and come up with a plan. I had to come up with a brilliant idea to go with this, and as the player I was, I knew exactly how to devise that plan.
Chapter 6: The Brilliant Idea
First, I had to beg Nhyira to literally be my wife, but I knew me being on my knees wasn’t going to get her married to me. I had to get her tripping all over me, and show her the gentleman she had never seen without her finding out I was faking it the whole time. I was absent from work for a whole week on purpose.
Although I was mourning my father, I was trying to get Nhyira to inquire about my well-being. Guess what? She didn’t, so I called her. I asked her if there were any problems at the office, and she told me she was handling them. She asked me to stay home and get some rest since I was grieving. When I realised she preferred I stay home, I went to work the next day.
“Are you okay to resume work so soon?” She asked me when she saw me at the office the next day, and I gave a wry nod. Immediately, she laid down all the meetings I had scheduled and the challenges that potential clients were looking at. At that moment, I felt she was either trying to tease me or just doing her job. Either way, I used it for my benefit.
“I thought I was okay, but I don’t think I can work today; the nostalgia from being in his office might not allow me to work.” I feigned extreme sadness.
“Oh, okay, you could go back home. Should I get someone to escort you, please?” She was blunt.
“I need company, actually. Would you mind having brunch with me?” I asked her, and she was reluctant. She told me how there was a lot of work to be done at the office. She was about to decline when I bowed my head and sighed.
“Okay. I could spare an hour.” That was my ticket into her heart.
Chapter 7: The Talking Stage
She sat just across the table in a pink, loose top, covering her cleavage as usual. She had on red lipstick, and her makeup, I could tell, was well done. We had ordered our drinks and we were waiting for our meal when she asked.
“Okay, so what’s up?
“If I tell you, will you sit on it?”
She almost spat out her drink while laughing. My corny jokes were getting her excited, and I liked that.
“Kwaku, what do you want from me?” She asked. Obviously, she was no child; she could read in between the lines and could see I was interested.
“You’re almost perfect. But I’m here to change your last name.” She laughed even harder, asking me to stop with the corny jokes. I thought to myself, “Girl, the only joke here is you, when I put you on my plate and eat you up while I fake love for you.”
That day, I could tell it was the best one hour she’d had in months. She literally spat it out with her genuine laughter and remarks. It might have been my best day too, but like my father said, ‘those things between my legs’ blurred my vision. Nhyira was only a ticket to the Mensah fame for me.
In the next few weeks, I was taking Nhyira on dates—one date after the other—singing her praises, lavishing her with gifts, and saying the right words. Soon, we were having intimate conversations. She told me how my father’s death had a great toll on her because he was like a father to her, and I told her how my father was my hero and best friend.
My new-found friendship with Nhyira got the media running wild with stories of the richest bachelor soon tying the knot. On the other hand, Nhyira was solely focused on being great company for me. She didn’t let the media confuse and redefine our new-found friendship.
Chapter 8: The Game
After five months of a good friendship, I had to move on to the next phase of the idea. I took Nhyira to the city’s finest gardens, where I had called in a few favours for candle lights and a romantic set-up. She teased me about how corny I had gotten when she walked into the romantic ambience. We had our regular conversations, and just like I had rehearsed, I reached for a bracelet from my pocket, and she laughed. “What’s going on?” She asked me, and I stared straight into her eyes. I told her how I hadn’t been able to get her out of my mind, how her smile made me smile too, and how I wanted to stay committed to her from this day forward.
When I said she was on my mind, I wasn’t lying; my plan had to succeed. If everything worked out, I would become the youngest, richest espoused man. I was ready for the fame and the game, and Nhyira was my bait.
Three months into being the envied couple in the city, I had managed to make her believe I was good—not just good, but the best gentleman.
Nhyira was always clad in midi-length dresses, flowing wide-leg trousers, and official shirts, so it was hard to tell what was underneath all those covers. To make it worse, I couldn’t see what was under all those covers because she wanted to stay chaste till her wedding night, and as hard as that was, I painfully respected her decision.
With the new Mr. Nice Hardworking Responsible Boyfriend appearance for six months, I had won her heart over, and she was the girlfriend of the richest bachelor in the city. I had to block out all the ladies that flaunted themselves at me. I couldn’t look at a lady twice through five months of good friendship and six months of courtship. Boy, my hormones were on the rise by the seventh month, and I could stare helplessly at a lady at the pub and fantasise till my jaws dropped.
Chapter 9: The Proposal
I managed to hold myself for a year and a half until I orchestrated the grand marriage proposal at the center of the city, involving the media in my surprise proposal. It was Nhyira’s birthday, hence the right time for me to make a grand display of affection.
I gave Nhyira that day off, took her for a spa treatment, spent the entire day with her, and took her to a stylist to get her ready for the surprise proposal. For an unforgettable gesture, I pulled a couple of strings to get a small crowd and media coverage at the centre of the city. I took her for a ride in one of the company’s private jets and took her to the centre of the city, an open space decorated with flickering lights and roses that twinkled the question, “Will you marry me?”.
She got out of the jet when it landed and gave a loud shriek. She turned to give me the million-dollar smile, and just when she was about to hug me, I put an icing on the cake by going down on one knee, thus sweeping her off her feet onto the aisle and under my sheets.
Chapter 10: Reality Sets in After the Wedding
We had our wedding at a private events centre in Accra, with just a few friends and family in attendance. With the exception of one photo that a well-known blogger leaked, we did a good job of preventing our wedding photos from going viral on the internet.
I won’t lie, Nhyira looked really stunning in her thirty thousand dollar wedding gown. She looked extremely elated when we locked eyes as she walked down the aisle with her dad. You could almost tell just how much she had fallen in love with me. I tried my best to bury my sentiments—I was marrying a woman I did not love because of money.
Although I might have fallen in love with everything underneath her clothes, we had the most boring sexual intercourse I had ever experienced on our first night. She was clearly inexperienced, and teaching her how to make love to me was a step I was not ready to take—my sexual fetishes were obviously something she would frown upon.
I wanted fun, fun, fun! As dominant as I am in the bedroom, I wanted to tie her up on the bed, lick juices off her body, hold her up in the air, and perform all of my bedroom fetishes on her, but my wife was completely boring and inexperienced. So I left her alone in our matrimonial bed most nights.
Chapter 11: Those Things Between My Legs
One evening, after work, Nhyira left the office before me, so I called Nina, one of the women who gave me what I wanted—good sex. We agreed to meet in the office file room because I had eyes on me after the city’s biggest, but private marriage ceremony between my wife and me, which was just two weeks ago. When everyone had left, Nina and I went at it; our breaths filled the room. God! I had missed it!
It was rough and steamy, just as I want my sex. I covered her mouth as I stroked from the back, in an effort to keep it quiet. As we kept going at it, Nina’s left arm hit my father’s picture hanging on the wall. Immediately, we looked at each other and giggled in guilt.
The noise we made obviously called for attention. We noticed someone turned the door knob and opened it quietly—it was Aku, Nhyira’s closest friend in the office. She gasped in amazement with her palm in her mouth. She froze at the sight of her boss and best friend, shagging with their clothes on in the file room.
Nina assured me she would tell her to keep her mouth shut, but I guess the rumours had already started spreading in the office. Nhyira started hearing rumours about my affairs, but that didn’t stop me. In and out of hotels with different calibre of ladies, screwing them right, left, and centre with no care in the world. I was getting home late to well-cooked meals and a quiet home. I was doing this for six months straight. However, my wife was being kind to me. There were days I thought the meals would be poisoned because of the rumours she had heard, but she was cooking something better than poison.
Chapter 12: Slaughtered!
One night, Nhyira got home early from a three-day trip to Venezuela to check on the estates, when she heard pleasurable screams. She walked closer to the sound with a kitchen knife in her hand, made her way upstairs to our room and opened the door slowly. Tears had filled her eyes by the time the door swung open. Filled with rage, she repeatedly struck the kitchen knife against the wall in rhythm to the moans of another lady and me.
I was just about to bust a nut before she opened the door. As funny as it may sound, I pulled out quickly but splashed some of my fluid on the floor just across where Nhyira was standing. The lady on top of me jumped off in surprise. I was so embarrassed at this sight and all I could say was, “baby I’m sorry.”
“Get out.” I heard her murmur three times. The fourth time, she hit the knife on the bed and shouted, “Get out!” The lady started taking her clothes immediately, but Nhyira stopped her.
“Whore! You better leave the clothes and get out of here!” She pointed the knife at her, and the lady fled—naked.
She sat down, stared at the ground, and let out silent cries, still holding the knife in her hand. I held her from behind, and her cries got louder. Then, I took the knife from her as she cried helplessly. I hugged her from behind and kept apologising. Emotions were all over the place. I held her and whispered some sweet words into her ear.
“So the rumours are true Kwaku.” She said.
I tried my best to shed some crocodile tears for her to see I was remorseful as well. I thought I had won. This woman must be stupidly in love with me – I thought to myself. That night, she prepared a fruit salad for me while I was watching the highlights of a football match. I honestly thought I had gotten away with it.
However, days after that night, she said nothing to me. She served me when she cooked but didn’t respond to my greetings, ignored my presence, and avoided me at the slightest chance. She gave me the silent treatment.
Three nights later, I had a dream that Nhyira held a knife over me while I slept, and I woke up immediately. When I woke up, she was seated at the edge of the bed, crying.
“Nhyira, I’m very sorry. I don’t know what came over me.” I apologised.
“Why did you marry me, Kwaku? Because, apparently, you’ve been having affairs since we got married.”
“I thought we shared something, Nhyira. That’s why I married you.”
“I thought you would be honest after being caught, but it turns out I’m the fool in this game.” Nhyira snickered. “Anyways, the lawyer called. The document for the transfer of property ownership is ready.” After she said that, I knew she had figured out everything.
I bowed my head in shame. The stupid big-mouth lawyer I had, had told her everything.
She looked at me when I didn’t say anything. Then she told me she had a proposition. She had a serious conversation with me about our situation, and I was attentive. She was getting my attention because she was proposing what I loved and what I was born for, but unknowingly, I was digging my own grave.
Nhyira suggested that we do what we like—have fun outside the marriage while staying married—so we see how that goes. I could feel my eyes light up as she talked, and I agreed immediately. She preferred we document the agreement, and unknowingly, that was literally the end of me.
Chapter 13: Open Marriage
The sex with the ladies felt different; free with no guilt of a hurting partner. Cheating with the permission of your wife is a whole different feeling and I enjoyed it, but not for long.
Nhyira was having her own share of fun as well. She was getting home late after work. She was making long phone calls and laughing a lot with whoever she was talking to. I was eating out or making my own meals now. She was getting my attention, with her new attitude. That was when I realised I had fallen in love with her. There was a time I literally asked myself if she was cheating on me, but we were in a free space. We were roommates, having ‘partners’ outside our union– we were in an open marriage.
One evening, I entered the living room with one of my numerous ladies and greeted her, but a loud laugh greeted me in response to something said by the person on the call. She didn’t even pay any attention to me. I got furious and greeted her till she responded.
I had the most awful sex that night. Gosh, I could not focus. All I could think about was how hard the dude on the phone with her made her laugh. That was when I knew it was time to go back to my wife before she’s taken, but it was too late.
Chapter 14: Better Late Than Never
One evening, I went on YouTube and watched how to make Nhyira’s favourite dish so that I could have dinner with her, but she got home very late with her Airpods in her ear, giggling like a schoolgirl again. She passed by me like I wasn’t even there.
In an attempt to get her attention, I started pacing back and forth in the bedroom. I felt her glare at me as she prepared to take a hot bath. She continued with the phone call, even in the bathtub. Out of jealousy, I got undressed and joined her. Nhyira furrowed her brows, cut her conversation short, and asked if I needed something.
“Errrmm, I want to join you, as you can see, just like old times.” I said with a boner in hand. “And oh, you got home very late today, I made dinner.” I added.
“Come again?” She mocked me and laughed while stepping out of the bathtub. “I ate out this evening after work, hence my lateness, But thanks for the effort.” She smirked and walked toward the door while wrapping the towel around her. “You can have the tub though, I was done anyway.” I watched her gently open and shut the bathroom door behind her. This made me grab the air and punch the bathroom tiles. I hated myself for how things had unfolded between us.
Not giving up, I followed her to the bedroom and rattled my feelings when I got her attention. I said a lot of things about her being the one I love—the cliché of not knowing what I had—until the thought of another man having her came to mind. She was laughing throughout the entire speech.
She waited for me to finish speaking, put on her chemise and handed me a document, which she took from her bag. “I’m in love with someone else. I want a divorce!” I quickly snatched the paper from her hand, looked at the document and shook my head immediately. I was staring at a signed set of divorce documents, pending my endorsement.
“I’m not going to sign this!” I shouted. “You’re my wife. Yes I made a mistake, something I’m very remorseful for. I deserve a second chance. Let’s make this work baby.”
Her smirk faded and turned into a frown. “I wasn’t your wife when you agreed to marry me to keep your father’s inheritance. Sign this shit or I’ll make you!”
She stormed out of the room and banged the door behind her. I stayed staring on the floor, with my head in my palm. The mighty had fallen. The boss of the game was at the mercy of a damsel.
Chapter 15: The Torture
Nhyira packed her bags and left the house the next day. She left a copy of the divorce paper on the center table, detailing the divorce with a copy of our signed open marriage agreement attached to it. The open marriage agreement had the prerequisite that everything willed to me was still mine under the open marriage. However, in the case of a divorce, Nhyira would get everything. I had failed to read through the agreement thoroughly, and unfortunately, that left me with nothing.
I blew up her phone at least five times a day, but they went straight to voicemail. When I tried to get her attention at work, she would call in an employee and engage them on an assignment, or she would not mind me at all.
I interrupted her at lunch one afternoon, and she laughed. “You should have taken on stalking as a career path, Kwaku.”
I pleaded with her to let everything slide, but she would not listen. She asked me one question: “Have you signed the papers?”
“I’m not signing the divorce papers, Nhyira.” I told her. She lost her appetite and walked out on me.
Chapter 16: The Set Up
Two nights later, I was at my favourite pub, drinking as usual, when a lady walked up to me and started flirting with me. Her dress exposed her figure in such a way that it was impossible not to lust after her, so I played along.
“Hey handsome, care for me to join you?”
Goodness, this lady smelled just like Nhyira. Draped in YSL Libre, a captivating and potent fragrance, she immediately had me entranced. Her micro skirt, barely covering her curves, teased with glimpses of her allure. Drawing the stool closer, our conversations ignited into an intoxicating blend of heat and desire.
Not long after, we were in the private room of the pub, banging till we could no longer catch our breaths. Trust me, it was a good getaway from all the stress Nhyira was putting me through. There were moments throughout our foreplay that I thought I was having an intimate session with Nhyira. However, this stress reliever had Nhyira owning the game.
“You forgive me don’t you?” I shouted while gripping her head from behind, thinking she was my wife. “Who’s that guy? What’s his name? Does he give it to you like I do? Huh! Answer me Nhyira!” I gripped her hair tighter and started stroking harder until the lady could not take it anymore.
She screamed and pushed me aside, quickly grabbed her panty and left the private room. I could see one of the workers staring into the room, looking so concerned. I closed the door and gave a loud shout at myself, smashed the drink on the floor and started breathing heavily.
Chapter 17: My Viral Moment
The next morning, I was all over the news—pictures of me and the lady from the pub—the richest, youngest espoused man, who was cheating on his wife but didn’t have the decency to divorce her. The spin and chaos all over Twitter intrigued me. What broke my heart even more, was the fact that the lady was a minor and her family were threatening to press charges for rape.
Nhyira had gone to lengths just to get me to sign the divorce papers, and I was losing my mind. Nhyira impressed me each time a new vlog, blog, or media space took up my story and gave a new spin about the issue—my story was out there, and now I was ashamed of myself.
I had fallen hard for Nhyira—Nhyira Johnson—whom my mother was to my father; now she is to me—the love of my life. I was staring at our scandal all over the news, while people stared at me like I was the epitome of a disgusting husband.
Nhyira was granting interviews to almost every media house after the story spread far and wide, and they all begged that I grant her the divorce. I received threatening calls day after day, and I had lost my respect at the office. I could hear my father turn in his grave each time a client terminated our contract or the board had a meeting to try and veto me out.
“You have to sign the papers!” My lawyer instructed me. “The girl’s family have blown the matter out of control and the Women and Juvenile Unit is taking things up to the next level. You may be looking at jail time. Divorce her and let’s change the narrative on social media, I will help you.”
At this point, I was no longer the youngest, richest espoused man in the city, but the shittiest pauper of a husband and person.
Chapter 18: The Curse of My Life
On a Friday afternoon, I sat before the woman who had managed to acquire my wealth by fair play, with a lawyer by her side, a divorce paper before me, and a pen in my hand. I signed the divorce papers and flipped to the last page of the document to see the open marriage agreement for the last time. They say men don’t cry, but I burst out into tears like a baby. I reached out for the paper and signed the paper. That was it! I had lost everything.
Seated in front of the camera, anxiety gripped me tightly as I prepared to address the general public about my mishaps and behavior. I felt like Dani Alves, a divorced man in shambles staring down the possibility of jail time; I couldn’t shake off the feeling of impending doom. At the point of a shameless loss, I was ready to tell everyone I was completely remorseful for my actions and had to let my wife go, just to set her free from all the embarrassment I had caused.
Chapter 19: A New Beginning
The summer of 2023 marked a new beginning for me. With lawsuits settled and bridges burned, I embarked on a fresh chapter, leaving behind the chaos of my former life. As a marketing executive at a friend’s business, I found stability and success, finally able to afford my own place and a car.
It had been close to two years since I last heard of Nhyira. By this time, she must have a husband and children. Well, I had blocked her on all platforms, just to allow myself to heal properly. Just last weekend, I decided to explore her social media and catch up with her since I had gotten over her
I stretched out to grab some more popcorn, as I was comfortably relaxed on my sofa with the television on, binge-watching a Netflix movie one Friday after work. I took out my phone and removed Nhyira from my blocked list. After taking a deep breath, I carefully went through her posts, and, oh my, I was amazed at what I saw.
Chapter 20: I have been played!
She was now married to my lawyer- the family lawyer, flaunting their love all over Instagram. I immediately stopped chewing and sat up. I muted the television and read every single caption post from the two of them.
Wait! Hold up! Wait a minute! I had so many questions. I was utterly confused. Apparently, they got married just three months after our divorce. Nhyira was seeing the lawyer when we had our open marriage? Or were they already in a relationship the whole time? I had so many questions.
I further dug up more posts and opened a family photograph, a picture of Nhyira captioned, “Merry Christmas from mine to yours.” My eyes widened; I scrutinised the photo really well and saw the back view of a familiar lady in the background of the photo. Though she had turned her back to the camera, I could swear that arse looked familiar.
“I hoped it wasn’t who I thought it was,” I thought to myself. I quickly Googled my case with the alleged minor victim, found her name and details, and searched for her on Instagram. Dear readers, to my utmost dismay, I realised this lady had taken the same photo at the same residence as Nhyira’s post, and even worse, she also has a photo with Nhyira’s representative at the divorce, back in 2015.
I dropped my phone and screamed my lungs out. Everything that had transpired was all a set up. Someone compromised my father’s will; he wouldn’t want me to inherit unless I married Nhyira. The lawyer masterminded this whole plan. This brilliant son-of-a-bitch played me, knew I would definitely cheat on Nhyira, get her to divorce me, then take everything from me. On top of that, get me to hook up with a random girl from the pub, who he knows very well, to further ruin me.
Anger boiled within me as the realisation sank in. Those I once trusted had played me- They’ve betrayed me. But amidst the turmoil, a spark of determination ignited. I refused to let my father’s legacy slip through my fingers. With newfound resolve, I vowed to unravel the tangled web of lies and reclaim what is rightfully mine.
The story begins…