I still shiver every time I tell this story. People always say “marry a hardworking man and you’ll never suffer.”
That’s what I thought I had. My husband was the most charming man in our small market centre. We owned just a simple shop that sold household items. Somehow, within three years, we were living like millionaires.

We had two personal cars, built a big house in town, and our children went to an expensive academy. At first, I thought he was simply a genius in business. But deep down, it never made sense.
How could a single shop in a rural shopping centre produce so much profit?

Then tragedy struck. Our first-born son our handsome boy, died suddenly at the age of 15. The doctors said it was a sudden illness. But nothing about it felt normal.

A few months after the burial, I began noticing things I couldn’t explain.
Sometimes I would wake up in the middle of the night and find my husband gone. Other times I would see strange marks drawn with ash behind our bedroom door. And then I started overhearing his late-night phone calls  people talking about “renewing the covenant” and “another offering.”

The final piece of the puzzle came from his own cousin, who pulled me aside one day and whispered:

“You think all this wealth is from that shop? Your husband went somewhere dark… that boy didn’t just die. People are whispering about it all over the village.” Read more.