Virtuous Woman

The forces in the underworld will not like me for revealing this.

Yesterday i saw the video of a native doctor trending after the body of a pregnant woman was found in a pit in his compound. He is suspected to have been using the body to renew his wealth.

This is a wealthy man who has also recruited other people into his cult and they are also into such devilish practices for wealth and power.

Many people have asked how taking the life of another person would bring wealth and fortune to you and why most cults require the blood of a close relation, a loved one, or a virgin in exchange for money.

This is the reason.

When a man joins a cult or goes to a Dibia to seek wealth and power, he is simply asking the demons underworld to give to him money he doesn't have physically.

The Dibia who also doesn't have the kind of money such a man is looking for, consults the demons underworld to seek insight into the man's future. He knows that the only way to give the man the quick money he wants is to tamper with his future.

If such a man would eventually make money in life, let's say in the next 10 years, the Dibia or Cult would have to find a way to draw forth such a man's fortune to his present life. The repercussion of this is that such a man may lose his life immediately after spending his wealth, or when there is no more wealth to draw from again. The sacrifices needed to accomplish this are usually just body parts of another. Such money does not last and in a few years, the rich man is gone.

But if such a man would not be rich in life, the Dibia or cult will then look into his unborn generations and draw the success of his unborn generations, into his future which usually costs him much. In this case, such a man would have children and grandchildren who will live to see his wealth but can't use it for anything good. They may even grow to a ripe old age.

To achieve this, demons need to be apeased and since they are spirits, they need the spirit of a human to embark on this mission. The feast on the love such a human had for you while he or she was alive, to drive them into your future and drag forth your fortune to your present life.

This is why in most cases it is usually the blood of a close relation that is preferred to do the work. And if you have no close relation, then the blood of a virgin will be used.

Why because it is a sacred blood. It is not stained. It is pure and the blood and spirit of virgins are accepted by demons for this task.

When the sacrifice is brought, the Dibia or Grandmaster then commands the demon underground to possess the spirit they channel themselves into your generation bringing fought wealth while the man enjoys.

It is sad to say that the poverty many suffer today, is because generations back, someone somewhere ate into their future and used their wealth.

This is why you hear stories of how someone's forefathers or grandfathers were wealthy, and you wonder why the generations after him are poor and where all the wealth went.

Such a person's destiny had already been used by his forefathers and he is just living life like an empty barrel with no oil.
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THE HOOK UP GIRL.
CHAPTER ONE:

hook up is another name for prostituti0n. That is what Jenny is doing, her name was Jennifer, but she tell people to call her Jenny for short.

Mr. Linus, the man whom Jenny slept with, is a dangeroüs and very deādly ritualist.

She didn’t realize that he planned to kīll her right after they have sēx.

Jenny is a pr******te, or hookup girl as it’s recently called.

She have been sleeping with men after her parents diēd in a motor accident.

This was because she had to find a way to feed herself and her little sister, Mary.

She first started prostitution by sleeping with male provision sellers in her street in exchange for food items.

But she soon realized that the things they gave her were not enough.

So, Jenny began to look for men who were willing to pay good sums of money for a fresh blōod like her.

She usually strolled to and fro in streets, waiting for a man to walks up to her for sēx.

the first time she went into the street to pr******te herself.
That evening, she dressed in a revealing outfit known as show-back, she stood in a street, waiting.

People, especially young boys, whistled as they passed her, obviously stunned by her beauty.

Others looked at her flirtatiously.
But a few others, especially the women, did not hesitate to curse her.

“Look at how nakēd she is,” they would say. "She came from hell to deceive our innocent men.” I wonder who told them that their men were innocent.

Their words humiliated and intimidated her.

Just when she was about to renounce her mission, a pimple-faced man walked up to her.

“Fine girl,” he said, his eyes gleaming with lust. " Follow me home tonight. I’ll treat you well.”

Jenny shuffled her feet in hesitancy.
She was afraid of following him home.

“Pretty, it’s like you’re new to this,” he observed.

“Ahmmm, I don’t thi-thi–” She began to stutter, but the worms in her stomach growled, reminding her that she hadn’t ate anything that day.

“Let’s go to your house,” smiler her.

Luckily for her, the man's house was just a stone thrown from where they stand.
That night, he slept with her three times.

He f**cked her like he hadn’t seen a woman in years.
But the next morning, he gave her the sum of N30,000 naira.

It was unbelievable to Jenny – the money, she mean.
She didn't expect such huge amount.
It was the biggest money she have touched since her parents' dēath.

She took it, thanked him, and hurried home with the swiftest movement.

“Sister, where did you go last night?” Her 14-year-old sister, Mary, asked immediately she walked into their single room.

“I was selling something in the market, and it was already dark when I finished, so I stayed in the park and waited till morning,” Jenny lied easily because on her way home, she had tasked herself with thinking up a lie.

“Oh! I was worried,” Mary confessed.

“Do not be,” She said before dumping the rice ingredients she had brought on her way back.

That day, Jenny and her sister,Mary, ate the good meal of white rice, stew and fried meat for they haven’t had a complete meal like that in months.

After that day, she began to sleep with more men for money.

Jenny began to earn steady amount of money from it, she went and re-registered Mary, her sister, in school.

got her clothes and a small phone, too. She didn’t want her to notice their parents absence too much.

But in all, she hid the fact that she was into prostitution from Mary.

She didn’t want her to know so she wouldn't follow in her ugly footsteps.
She deceived her into thinking that she worked for a marketing firm.

With time, Jenny grew wiser in her hookup business or line of work.
She knew which men paid more money just by looking at their appearance.

And it was through this method that she sighted MR. LINUS, the man who would be her doom.

That evening, she stood on the road, angrily smacking the piece of chewing gum in her mouth.

Jenny was angry for she had stood on that road for an hour, and no man had come to her to haggle prices of rounds.

Just when she was about to retire, a new Lexus 340 rolled to a stop in front of her.

The window slid down, revealing a handsome man of about 34. The man flashed a smile at her before saying, “Baby, hop in, let us have a good time."

She knew he was the type that would pay well so she didn’t bother negotiating price with him. She pulled the door open and flopped unto the passenger seat.

“Baby, put your seatbelt on,” MR. LINUS said in a deep, sēxy voice.

she did as he instructed.
Then she sat back, clutching her phone and handbag.

“So, my name is Linus, and I’m a real estate manager,” the man said as the car roared to life, zooming forward. “What about you?”

“My name is Jennifer, you can call me Jenny, and I’m a student,” she said.

“So, what are you doing here,” he asked.

“I was waiting for a bikeman to take me home,” She lied.
That was her usual line.

“Well, I want us to have a good time. Tomorrow, I’ll drive you home,” he spoke. “Abi, you know how to have a good time?”

“Yes, I do,” she answered sweetly.

“Good, my house is a little far, but we will get there,” Mr. Linus said.

From the dusty roads, his car soon entered the highway. The AC of the car, coupled with her tiredness soon lulled her to sleep.

“We are here,” Mr. Linus voice woke her from sleep.

He had parked in front of a beautiful building in a street which she couldn’t recognize.

There were about four to five other buildings in the street, but all seemed old and dilapidated.
Only the building he parked in front of was new. In the dark, the street looked frightening and deserted.
She assumed it was an estate under development.

“Follow me, baby,” MR. Linus said as they got off of the car.
They walked through the illuminated yard, passing some of the neighbors before they got to the door of his own flat apartment.He unlocked the door, and walked in.

His house was stylishly designed. It was evident that he was a man of good taste.

“Where is your bathroom, so I can bathe?”
She asked him, and he pointed to the door.

Jennifer entered the bathroom and washed the lingering sweat off of me. Then perfumed her body before she came out to meet MR. Linus.

He was seated in front of his TV, and two steamy plates of fried rice and chicken were in front of him, including a bottle of juice.

Jennifer sat beside him on the couch.

“Let’s eat first,” he said, and we dug into the food.

The food was good, but they were obviously more interested in sleeping with each other.

The above assertion proved correct because immediately they were done eating, MR. Linus palm dropped onto her laps, and he slowly caressed it up and down.

Before Jenny knew what was happening, his fingers were already prying into her pants, reaching for the warm, moist flesh in-between her legs.

“Ah!” she moaned, reaching forward to kiss him.
He lifted her up, and carried her into his room where he began to ravish her with reckless abandon.

Mr. Linus was good in bed; he knew the places that would tickle her. He suckled on her hard nipplēs, and fondled her breāsts.

By the time he wore a condōm before sinking into her, she was far gone.
He kn**cked in all positions that night.

There were times when he would go hard, his hips stuttering as he hammered away. And there were times when his strokes would be slow, but deep and rhymthic.

They eventually went to sleep around 2 in the morning.

the next morning, a mildly noise woke Jennifer up.
Her eyes gently fluttered open, close, and opened again.

Mr. Linus was standing in front of her, dressed in white and red, and he was holding a… knife?

His eyes were closed as he chanted incantations.

She tried to jump from the bed because of this, but she discovered out that her hands and legs were tied tightly.

Her noise must have alerted him as he opened his eyes.

“What are you doing?” She asked scared, then she began to pounce around on the bed.

“Shut up, you harlot!” MR. Linus said, his voice dripping with hate.

“Help,” Jennifer screamed. “Somebody help me!”

“Shut up!” Linus said, his eyes widening as he realized his mistake of not tying her mouth shut.

His eyes danced around the room, looking for a piece of cloth. “If you don’t stop screaming, I will kīll you.”

“Help, please!” she kept on.

Fear had made her braver. “Somebody, help! He’s planning to kīll m–”

She was caught off by the loud banging on Linus door!

People – maybe his neighbors – were pounding on the door. “Open this door,” different voices yelled.

“Help!!” she screamed louder.

Mr. Linus scrambled around, looking for a place to hide the knifē.

“BOoOM!” the door broke up, and his neighbors rushed into the room.

Seeing my helpless state on the bed, and MR.Linus dressing/weapōn,
they seized him, and they began to beāt him.

“Yes, beāt him,” some of the women yelled as they dealt with him themselves.

“I’ve always suspected that he is into something fishy,” one man said, dragging Linus by the belt.

“Me, too,” said a woman. “It’s in his eyes.”

Whilst they were beating him, some of the neighbors rushed to untie Jennifer.

“Thank you,” she said, very grateful to them.
They were still beating Linus who was pleading.

“You should take him to the police,” one of the men said.

“Please, no!” MR. Linus cried, begging and pleading.

“Yes, that is the best thing,” the others agreed.

“ young lady, you should take him to the police, I suggest you call someone that will empower and support you, before this killēr here decieves the police,”an ugly woman said.
“We’ll follow you to the station, but you need a closer witness because of hearsay.” Another young man chipped in.

“In fact, snap him picture,” a man said.

Jennifer grabbed her phone from the couch, and dialed her little sister’s number as others punched Linus while snapping pictures of him.

“Hello, Mary,” she said immediately she picked. “Please come to…

“No.5 Accra road, near Agor,” one of the women supplied.

“No.5 Accra, near Agor,” She repeated. “I’m in trouble.”

“What is it, sister?” Mary asked, worried.

“Just come,” she said.
And because she had no cash, She also asked her to bring money from her hand bag in her bedroom.

“Okay, I’m coming now,” Mary said.

Jennifer cut the call, and almost immediately, a loud slap was delivered on her cheek, rendering her dizzy. And her phone was snatched from her hand.

“Stupīd girl!”
the men and women said, and they helped MR. Linus up.

Smiling, Linus said, “You think you’re wise.”
He delivered another slap on her face. Then a kick. “These people work for me”
She fell to the floor.
Immediately, she was seized and tied by the men.

It was then that she realized that all that had played before – the beatīng of MR. Linus – was all part of their drama.

They were killērs who wanted her to get another person for them.
And she stupīdly called someone for them.

She had called Mary, her 14-year-old sister, to her dēath.
Mary entered Taxi and started heading to the place , the address which her sister gave her.

On their way to the address, a big black car double cross them, two men on black dress came out, they told the keke man to go. Then ordered Mary to enter the black Sienna Car.

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Sister accused me of stealing $2,500 Bracelet—Dad Kicked Me Out, So I Stopped Paying their all bills EPISODE: 2

It's definitely not in the house. Then another text followed. If you took it as some kind of joke, it's not funny anymore. Just give it back and we can forget this ever happened. I stared at the screen, my hand shaking. I typed. I didn't take your bangle, Briana. I would never do that to you. Her reply came instantly. Whatever. Just know mom and dad are really upset.
A cold wave passed through my chest. I put the phone down and finally let myself cry, but not out of guilt, out of heartbreak. 3 years ago, I found out by accident that my parents were drowning. It was a Sunday like so many others. Mom and Briana had gone out shopping, and I had stayed behind with dad to help fix a leaky faucet.
That's when I overheard him on the phone in the garage, begging the bank for an extension on the mortgage. When I confronted him, he resisted, full of pride. But eventually, the truth spilled out. They were 3 months behind. Credit card debt was climbing, and mom's lupus medications were eating through what little they had left.
They had promised Briana they would pay for her college, $20,000 a year, but there was no way they could afford it. So, I stepped in quietly. Dad made me promise Briana would never know. It would crush her, he said. And your mother would die of shame if the neighbors found out our daughter is taking care of us. At first, I only helped with what they couldn't manage. Then it became everything.
mortgage, utilities, groceries, property taxes, medical bills, and when Brianna got accepted into that expensive private college out of state, I paid the full tuition upfront. All of it. We'll find a way to pay you back, Dad said. They never did. But I kept giving because I loved them.
Because family was supposed to mean something. Because I believed foolishly that one day they'd see. Just a few weeks before the accusation, we had celebrated Briana's 21st birthday. She had been talking for months about a statement piece, a white gold and diamond wrist bangle from a boutique in the city. An heirloom piece, she said. Something elegant, timeless.
The price, $2,500. I knew they couldn't afford it. So, when dad called asking if I could help just this once, I didn't even ask questions. I transferred the money the same day. At the birthday dinner, I watched her open the velvet box and gasp. Oh my god, she squealled. You guys are the best parents ever. She hugged them tight, kissed their cheeks, and I sat there with a tired smile, and took pictures.

Virtuous Woman

Sister accused me of stealing $2,500 Bracelet—Dad Kicked Me Out, So I Stopped Paying their all bills

Get out of my house if you're going to lie to our faces. My father's voice was sharp, louder than I'd ever heard it, and it cut through me like a blade. I stood there frozen in the living room, surrounded by people I had loved, helped, and sacrificed for. My mother sat silently on the couch, eyes low. My sister, Briana, stood near the stairs, arms crossed, watching me with something close to triumph on her face.
"What are you talking about?" I asked, my voice trembling. Dad stepped closer, holding up an empty blue velvet box. This Brianna's wrist bangle gone. And this was found under the bookshelf in your old bedroom. What are we supposed to think, Ammani? I blinked at the box. I haven't even been in that room in weeks. Well, he said, voice cold now.
It didn't walk in there on its own. Mom still wouldn't look at me. I wanted to laugh, not because it was funny, but because it was absurd, surreal, like watching someone else's nightmare unfold around me. The bangal in question, a white golden diamond bracelet. Retail price $2,500. The one I paid for quietly without credit.
The same way I had been covering the mortgage on this house, the light bill, and Brianna's entire college tuition for the past 3 years. You think I stole it? I asked slowly, voice cracking. You were the only one upstairs. Briana chimed in, arms folded like she'd been waiting for this moment. And my bedroom door was open when I came back. I always close it.
I went to the bathroom. I said, I didn't go into your room. Then explain the box in your old room. Dad snapped. If you needed money, you should have come to us instead of doing something like this. The irony almost made me dizzy. Me in financial trouble? me, the one holding this whole family together in secret? I took a step back, staring at the people I thought would always have my back.
"You really think I'm capable of stealing from my own sister?" My mother opened her mouth, but said nothing. Her silence was worse than shouting. "That's not your room anymore," Dad said firmly. "And don't change the subject. The fact is the bangal is missing, and all signs point to you. All signs except logic, except history, except the thousands I had funneled into this house without asking for thanks.
"You all have no idea what I've done for this family," I whispered, eyes stinging. And the second something goes missing, "I'm the thief." No one answered. And in that silence, everything broke. I grabbed my purse, turned, and walked out of the house I'd been secretly keeping afloat. The same house my father just ordered me out of like a stranger.
I got into my car, sat there for a long time, hands trembling on the wheel. Then I drove off, tears running down my face. Not because I was guilty, because I never imagined they could believe I was. I didn't sleep that night. I sat in my apartment in the dark, still in my jeans, just staring at the wall.
Every time I closed my eyes, I heard my father's voice again. Get out of my house if you're going to lie to our faces. That house, the one I had paid the mortgage on for the last 3 years, the one that would have been foreclosed without me. And now they believed I stole from them. At 2:07 in the morning, my phone buzzed. Briana, just so you know, I've looked everywhere.
TBC…
Virtuous Woman

Episode 3 (Final episode)..
Title: Crowd prince disguise as a madman to find true love .
A year passed. Lagos, ever restless, had moved on to newer gossip. The madman in the dustbin was now a legend, spoken about by traders during slow afternoons and told to children as a strange kind of fairy tale—“If you see someone wey look mad, treat them well o. E fit be prince in disguise.”

But in the town of Ife, far from the yellow buses and hawkers of Yaba, a new kind of tradition bloomed.

Prince Adémọ́lá was no longer just a symbol of royal lineage. He was a ruler with the dust of the streets in his spirit, who knew what hunger felt like, what real laughter sounded like, and what it meant to earn love without a crown.

Amaka, now Princess Amaka, walked the palace grounds with her chin high and her slippers flat—refusing to trade comfort for pretense. She taught the palace cooks how to make akara the Lagos way. She insisted on market days where she could still touch tomatoes herself. The women of the court rolled their eyes at first, but soon they followed her example, tired of looking pretty but feeling empty.

On the first anniversary of their wedding, Mofe led Amaka to a small garden he’d built at the back of the palace. Right in the center, surrounded by roses and hibiscus, stood a sculpture of a dustbin—smooth, golden, and shining under the sun.

“This…” he said, taking her hand, “is where everything began.”

She touched the lid of the statue and smiled. “I thought I was feeding a madman puff-puff.”

“And I thought I was being clever. Hiding from the world.”

They laughed.

“Are you happy?” he asked.

She nodded. “Happier than I ever imagined. But only because you let me see you when you were still hiding. Not many people give their real self like that.”

He drew her close, resting his forehead on hers. “You loved me in the dirt. Now I will love you with all my kingdom.”

And there, under the Nigerian sun, where royalty met the roadside, where tradition danced with truth, the dustbin prince and his queen wrote an ending that was simple, solid, and unforgettable.

Not every crown is made of gold.

Some are found in the most unlikely places—like a kind heart… or a broken dustbin behind a suya stand.

The End.
Virtuous Woman

The next morning, the village was alive with whispers of new hope, but far from the warmth of community, Adanna and Baba Kura sat in a dimly lit room, their faces shrouded in shadow. Baba Kura's eyes gleamed with malevolent intent as he leaned forward. "If we cannot break Lala from the outside," he murmured, "we will do it from within."

Adanna raised an eyebrow, curious but wary. "What do you mean?"

A crooked smile spread across Baba Kura’s face. "Her friend...Amara," he said slowly. "The girl is loyal, but loyalty bends when temptation is strong enough."

Adanna’s lips curled into a grin. "I see," she nodded. "Divide them. Separate the bond. If we get Amara to betray Lala, she will be alone...weak."

"Exactly," Baba Kura hissed. "We just need to make the offer...irresistible."

That evening, as the village began to settle under the cool blanket of dusk, Adanna approached Amara while she was fetching water from the stream. Her footsteps were light, almost predatory, as she watched the young girl fill her clay pot.

"Amara," Adanna called out, her voice smooth and inviting.

Amara turned, surprise flickering across her face. "Mama Adanna," she replied cautiously. "What are you doing out here?"

Adanna smiled sweetly, stepping closer. "I was looking for you," she said, lowering her voice to a whisper. "There is something...important I wish to discuss."

Amara's brow furrowed. "Important?"

Adanna leaned in, her eyes glimmering with secret promises. "How would you like to leave this place?" she whispered. "Escape the poverty...live a life of luxury. I can make that happen for you."

Amara blinked, taken aback. "What are you talking about?"

"Baba Kura is a powerful man," Adanna continued, her smile widening. "He has wealth, connections...all he needs is one small favor from you."

Amara took a step back, her hands tightening on the clay pot. "I won’t betray Lala," she said firmly, her voice edged with defiance.

Adanna’s smile did not falter. Instead, she reached into the folds of her wrapper and pulled out a small leather pouch. She shook it lightly, and the jingle of coins filled the air. Gold, shimmering and real. Amara’s eyes grew wide, her gaze fixed on the pouch.

"This is just the beginning," Adanna whispered, her voice dripping with temptation. "There is so much more...if you help us bring Lala back to Baba Kura."

Amara’s hands shook slightly as she stared at the gold, her mind racing. Adanna stepped closer, her tone softening. "Think of your family," she said gently. "Think of what you could do with this...how you could save them."

A flash of hesitation crossed Amara's face, but it was fleeting. She shook her head stubbornly. "I won’t do it," she whispered. "I won’t betray Lala."

Adanna’s smile faded, replaced by a look of disdain. "You think loyalty will feed your family?" she sneered. "You think Lala can save you from hunger? Think wisely, girl. This offer does not come twice."

Amara swallowed hard, her eyes lingering on the pouch before she turned away. "Tell Baba Kura...I am not for sale."

Adanna's eyes hardened. "You will regret this," she said coldly. "Sooner than you think."

Amara didn’t look back, her heart pounding as she hurried back to the village, the weight of betrayal heavy in the air.

Amara hurried back home, her heart pounding with a mixture of fear and uncertainty. She barely noticed the familiar dirt path or the whispers of the villagers as she passed. Her mind was clouded with thoughts—thoughts of Lala, of Adanna’s chilling threat, and most of all, of the heavy pouch of gold that had glimmered so brightly in Adanna's hand.

As she stepped into her family's small, crumbling hut, the reality of her life hit her with full force. Her father lay stretched out on a straw mat, his body frail and weakened from months of illness. Her younger siblings sat quietly in the corner, their eyes hollow with hunger, their clothes threadbare and patched. Her mother worked tirelessly at the grinding stone, her hands calloused and weary.

Amara’s throat tightened. She couldn’t remember the last time they had a full meal, the last time she saw her father smile without wincing from pain. Adanna’s words replayed in her mind: Think of your family... Think of what you could do with this... how you could save them.

Amara’s mother looked up, wiping sweat from her brow. "Amara, you're back," she said with a tired smile. "Did you fetch the water?"

Amara nodded absently, setting the clay pot down. But her mind was far from the task at hand. She watched her mother struggle to her feet, her back hunched from years of labor. Her heart clenched painfully.

Gold... real gold, she thought, her fingers twitching. That pouch of gold could change everything. Her father could see a doctor, her siblings could eat, her mother wouldn’t have to work herself to the bone.

But the cost...the cost was Lala.

Amara sat quietly that evening, her family eating their meager portion of yam and dried fish. Her father coughed weakly, his chest rattling with each breath. Her mother rubbed his back soothingly, her eyes glassy with worry. Her siblings huddled together for warmth, their eyes heavy with fatigue.

The weight of poverty pressed down on her shoulders, squeezing the air from her lungs. The whispers of Adanna's offer grew louder, more tempting. One betrayal...just one, she thought, biting her lip. And my family is saved.

That night, as the moon hung high in the darkened sky, Amara made her decision. She would go back to Adanna. She would take the gold. She would save her family...even if it meant sacrificing her friendship with Lala.

Her heart ached with the weight of her choice, but desperation had drowned out guilt. Forgive me, Lala, she whispered to the stars, her eyes wet with tears. I have no other choice.

To be continued...

Virtuous Woman

POOR GIRL HELPS AN ELDERLY CUSTOMER BEING HUMILIATED UNAWARE HE IS THE CEO’s FATHER

Episode 1

Diana walked into the high-end Fashion Boutique, her heart heavy but her face carrying a tired smile. She had been working here for months, but every day felt like a battle. Her manager Susan treated her more like a servant than a sales assistant. Whenever Diana made a sale, Susan found a way to take her commission, leaving her with nothing. On most days, Diana was sent to run errands instead of actually selling. She picked up dry cleaning, fetched coffee, and even cleaned the stockroom while the other workers attended to healthy customers.

“You should be grateful,” Susan would sneer. “You don’t belong here anyway.” The senior staff weren’t any better. They stole her clients, laughed at her simple clothes, and gave her the hardest tasks. But Diana never complained; she needed this job.

One afternoon, as Diana carefully folded some expensive dresses, the glass door swung open. An old man walked in. His clothes were worn out, his shoes had holes, and his hair was messy. The other workers wrinkled their noses in disgust.

“Sir, you can’t be here,” one of them sneered. “This is a luxury store.”

The old man smiled, showing yellowed teeth. “I just want to look around,” he said softly.

Susan walked over, her heels clicking against the polished floor. She looked him up and down, then snorted. “We don’t serve people like you,” she said. “This is a boutique for high-class clients, not beggars.” The other workers laughed cruelly.

Diana’s heart ached. She knew what it felt like to be looked down on. She quickly walked over and gently touched the old man’s arm.

“Sir, would you like some water?” she asked kindly.

The old man’s eyes lit up. “That would be nice.”

Diana ignored the stares and whispers of her colleagues as she brought him a cold glass of water. She helped him sit down and smiled.

“Take your time, sir,” she said warmly. “Let me know if you need help.”

The old man touched her hand gently. His skin was rough, full of wrinkles. He looked at her like she was the first kind person he had met in a long time.

“Good things happen to good people,” he whispered. “Remember that, my dear.”

Diana didn’t know why, but his words touched her heart. Mr. Benson finished his water and smiled at Diana, his wrinkled hands resting on the table.

“You are a kind girl,” he said warmly. “Help me pick out 10 luxury outfits.”

Diana blinked in surprise. “10?”

“Yes,” he nodded. “I want the best—the finest suits, silk shirts, and designer shoes.”

Diana’s heart raced with excitement. This could be her biggest sale ever. Maybe Susan would finally see her worth. Maybe today was her lucky day. She quickly began selecting the most elegant suits, carefully choosing pieces that matched Mr. Benson’s frame. She adjusted collars, picked silk ties, and even found shoes that would complement his new look.

The other workers stood at a distance, whispering amongst themselves.

“That girl is such a fool,” one of them snickered. “He’s clearly broke,” another laughed.

Susan folded her arms and watched with an amused smirk. “Let’s see how this turns out,” she murmured.

After nearly an hour, Diana laid out the final selection.

“Sir, I think these will look great on you,” she said cheerfully.

Mr. Benson clapped his hands together. “I’ll take them all.”

Diana beamed with joy. “That will be $225,000, sir,” she said excitedly.

The room fell silent. The other employees raised their eyebrows. Susan smirked. Mr. Benson patted his pockets, then chuckled softly.

“Oh dear,” he sighed. “I don’t have any money on me.”

Diana’s smile froze. The boutique erupted into laughter.

“Are you kidding me?” one of the senior staff shrieked. “You wasted all that time on a poor old beggar!”

Susan’s eyes gleamed with amusement. She slowly walked toward Diana, her expensive perfume filling the air.

“You really are stupid, aren’t you?” Susan sneered. “You actually thought this old fool could afford those clothes?”

Diana turned to Mr. Benson. “Sir, you don’t have any money?”

Mr. Benson sighed. “I do, but it’s with my grandson. He’s very rich. I just need to find him.”

Susan burst into laughter. “His grandson? Oh, how convenient.” She turned to the other workers. “You hear that, ladies? This homeless old man is looking for his rich grandson!”

The staff howled with laughter, their voices filled with mockery. Diana felt her face burn with embarrassment, but she refused to look away from Mr. Benson’s sad eyes. Instead of yelling or arguing, she simply smiled softly.

“It’s okay, sir,” she said gently. “Don’t worry about it.”

The laughter stopped. Susan narrowed her eyes.

“Excuse me? Are you really going to stand here and act like a fool?”

Diana ignored her. “Here, sir,” she said softly, pressing the money into his hands. “At least take this for a taxi home.”

Mr. Benson stared at her in shock. His hands trembled as he took the money.

“You are a rare soul,” he whispered.

Susan scoffed and took a step closer, her voice sharp and cold.

“I warned you, Diana,” she said. “I told you not to bring filth into this boutique, but you didn’t listen. Lux Group has a class to maintain. This store is a part of the most exclusive fashion empire, and we cannot bring down our standards by associating with street people.” She shook her head in disgust. “You are ruining our image, Diana, and for that, you’re fired. Get out of my store.”

Diana took a deep breath, blinking back tears. She picked up her bag, turned on her heels, and walked out of the store without another word. She didn’t know why, but something felt different. As she disappeared down the street, Mr. Benson stood there watching her leave with a knowing smile. She had no idea her life was about to change forever.

As Diana walked out of the boutique, her heart heavy, Mr. Benson turned to Susan, his face calm but firm.

“You should not judge people based on their appearance,” he said softly. “Kindness is more valuable than expensive clothes.”

Susan rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. Spare me the lecture, old man.” She crossed her arms and smirked. “Do you know where you are? Lux Group is a billion-dollar fashion empire. This boutique serves only the elite. People like you do not belong here.”

Mr. Benson shook his head. “Wealth is not just about money, young lady. It is about the heart.”

Susan’s face darkened with anger. “That’s it! Security!”

Two security guards rushed forward.

“Get this poor old man out of my store,” Susan ordered. “He has no right to stand here and lecture me.”

The guards grabbed Mr. Benson’s arms, but he simply chuckled.

“There is no need for force, my dear. I am leaving.”

With one last glance at Susan, he walked out of the boutique.
Virtuous Woman