He Be@ts Me To Entertain His Friends – And My Rev£nge Shocked Them….
He be@ts me to entertain his friends and my rev£nge shocked them. I was 6 months pregnant when James kicked me in the stomach in front of his friends. He laughed as I fell to the floor, holding my belly, gasping for air. His friends burst into wild, laughed like they were watching a comedy movie.
They clapped, slapped each other’s backs, and praised him like a hero. One of them even said, “James, you be real, man. No allow woman climb your head.” That night, I almost lost my baby, but no one cared. Not one person in that room asked if I was okay. James didn’t even look at me. He just poured himself a drink, sat back on the couch, and continued joking with his so-called friends like nothing had happened. My name is Anita.
I am a mother, a woman, and I used to be the wife of a millionaire. A man who believed that the more you break a woman, the more power you have. But this this is not just my story. This is the story of how I became his greatest downfall. And trust me, you haven’t heard anything yet. James was rich, yes, but not always. I met him when he was still working in a dusty office with no air conditioner.
He had only two shirts and both had torn collars, but he was kind, humble. He called me queen. He would send me long messages at midnight just to say, “I love you.” We had dreams, big ones. We would sit on the balcony sipping Gary and Groundnut, talking about how one day we would own a house in the city.
When he finally made money, everything changed. At first, it was the small things. He started correcting my grammar in public. Then, he complained about the way I dressed. Next, he told me to quit my job because a real wife doesn’t hustle like a man. I agreed because I trusted him. I believed him. But I was wrong. Very wrong.
His money made him arrogant, proud, untouchable. He started hosting parties at our house, bringing home loud, empty men who had nothing but insults for women. Every time they visited, James turned into someone I didn’t know. He would shout at me in front of them, call me useless, say things like, “This woman can’t even speak proper English.
” Or, “She’s lucky I picked her from the street.” Sometimes he would grab my hair and drag me to the kitchen just to make them laugh. They laughed. Oh, how they laughed. And I I died slowly inside. One night during a party, I mistakenly dropped a wine glass. The room went silent. James stood up, walked towards me slowly. I held my breath, then slap.
He hit me so hard I fell to the ground. My cheek burned. My pride shattered. He turned to his friends and said, “That’s how to handle nonsense.” and they all cheered. I wanted to scream. I wanted to fight. But I looked at my daughter Nora standing at the stairs. Her small eyes filled with tears. And I knew I couldn’t leave.
Not yet. Because I had no money, no job, no house, no family support. James made sure I had nothing except him. So I stayed. But something inside me began to grow quietly. It wasn’t fear anymore. It was fire. One day while James was away on a business trip, I found an old diary of mine.
It was filled with dreams, plans, goals. My handwriting looked so young and full of life. I cried that night, not because I missed who I used to be, but because I knew she was still inside me, hiding, waiting for a chance to rise again. That was the night I decided to stop surviving. I would start planning. Every insult James threw at me became a brick.
I used each one to build my revenge. And my revenge would not be loud. No, it would be patient, gentle, like water dripping on stone until it breaks. James thought I was weak, but weakness is not the absence of strength. Sometimes it is the training ground for power. I stopped fighting him with words. I became quiet.
I served his friends with a smile. I cleaned his mess without complaints. I stopped arguing. He thought he had one. He didn’t know I was watching, listening, studying. Every account he opened, every deal he made, every weakness he showed, I wrote it all down in a secret notebook I kept behind the water tank outside.
I knew I was in a battle. And in battle, the one who waits wins. The last slap I ever received came on a Sunday. His friends were around. He accused me of forgetting to iron his white shirt. I tried to explain. I even knelt down, but he didn’t care. He kicked me in front of everyone again. I fell hard, but this time I didn’t cry.
I stood up, wiped the bl00d from my lip, and looked him in the eyes. I smiled. That was the day he should have known something had changed. But like most arrogant men, he was blind to his own end. And that’s why I’m telling you this story because very soon James will go from sleeping on silk sheets to begging for a mattress in a dirty corner of the city.
He beat me to entertain his friends. But I I will bury his pride in silence with class, with calm, and when I’m done, even his shadow will not respect him again. The day James came home and found the house sparkling clean, food hot on the table, and me smiling in silence, he thought he had finally broken me. He smirked, kissed his teeth, and said, “This is how a good wife behaves.
” I nodded, and served him his food. I didn’t even flinch when he threw the spoon, and shouted, “You didn’t put enough salt.” I just picked up the plate, went back into the kitchen, adjusted the salt, and returned with a calm face. He didn’t know he was dining with a woman who had declared battle. A different kind of battle.
The kind that doesn’t announce itself. The kind that wins without raising a voice. James controlled everything. The house was in his name. The cars, the businesses, the bank accounts. Even my phone was registered under his own details. If I tried to speak with anyone outside, he would say I was becoming too friendly. So, I stopped speaking. But I started watching.
Every time he spoke carelessly on the phone about deals or bragged about money to his friends, I listened from the other room. Every receipt, every call, every visit, I noticed it all. He didn’t know I had written down the pins to his accounts. He used them so often and loudly, it became easy to memorize. He didn’t know I had made friends with a cleaner at his office.
The girl was young and naive, but talkative. She told me how James often slept with clients and used office funds to sponsor women. He didn’t know I had a cousin who worked in one of the banks he secretly saved his dollars in. Everything he used to show off his power, his secrets, his shame, I began to collect like seeds and I watered them with patience.
One morning while Norah was at school and James had traveled to Port Harkort for a 3-day business meeting, I took my first big step. I called my old friend Grace. We hadn’t spoken in years. James forced me to cut her off when he saw how independent she was. He said she would teach me bad habits.
But I kept her number in my head like a buried treasure. Grace cried when she heard my voice. Anita, is this really you? You’re alive. I told her everything, every slap, every insult, every humiliation. She was silent for a long time, then said, “You’ve suffered, but now it’s time to rise.” Grace was a lawyer, a smart one, and more importantly, a trusted one. She told me exactly what to do.
Start gathering evidence, she said. Don’t worry, I’ll help you with the rest. That was the beginning of my return. James came back from Port Hardcourt with a new phone and a new girl saved as accountant B. I saw the messages. I saw the pictures. I didn’t shout. I didn’t cry. I even helped him plug the phone when the battery was low. He thought I didn’t know.
That made it easier because the moment a proud man underestimates you, that’s when he opens the door to his downfall. I opened a new bank account in my cousin’s name and started moving money.
Small amounts slowly, bit by bit, using the app he once showed me how to use when he was feeling like a good husband.
He said, “One day you’ll thank me for teaching you how to move money like a boss. He was right. I thanked him silently. Then I made copies of documents he kept hidden in a locked drawer. I had found the key months earlier inside his old shoe hidden under the bed. He never suspected anything because he believed I was too stupid to look.
I copied property papers, business shares, loan agreements, everything. I saved them in a hidden flash drive and I kept that drive inside Norah’s teddy bear. That bear became the guardian of my revenge. It wasn’t just about escaping anymore. No, I wanted him to feel everything I felt.
The shame, the loss, the pain of watching everything you built collapse while you stand there helpless. Then came the day he humiliated me in front of his mother. It was Norah’s birthday. I baked a small cake, decorated the sitting room with balloons. I even wore makeup and tied my headscarf like the old Anita. strong and elegant.
James walked in with his mother and his friends, looked at the cake and scoffed. This rubbish is what you call birthday party for my daughter. You don’t even have shame. He picked the cake and smashed it on the floor. Norah cried. I bent down slowly, cleaned the floor with a rag, and said, “I’ll get another cake.” His mother looked at him shocked.
“James, this is not right,” she said softly. But he shouted her into silence. Don’t tell me how to run my house, mama. That was the final spark. Even his mother had now seen what I had lived with for years. But that day, while he drank and danced with his friends, I stood by the corner, quiet and still. I didn’t cry because I had already arranged the final move.
2 days later, I got a call from Grace. Everything is ready. We just need your word. I looked at James, snoring on the couch, shirt open, belly out, phone in his hand, whiskey bottle half empty. He looked like a king, but he was about to wake up in rags. I whispered back, “It’s time.” And just like that, the first hammer of justice dropped.
One email at a time, one signature at a time, one transfer at a time. He had no idea that his empire was cracking under his nose. and I, his quiet little wife, was the one holding the hammer.
James didn’t notice the first crack. He still wore his designer suits, drove his Range Rover through the estate like a king, and walked with the pride of a man who believed he was untouchable.
But deep in the heart of his empire, termites had begun to chew, and I was the queen of the colony. Two weeks after I gave Grace the go-ahad, strange things started happening in James’ perfect little world. First, one of his major clients pulled out of a real estate deal. Nigerian naira 27 million gone.
Just like that, he came home furious, throwing documents around the house and shouting into his phone. These useless clients want to insult me. I asked him what happened. He shoved me aside. Get out of my face, Anita. You think everything is about gossip. I nodded, backed away, and watched. watched as the first candle in his palace dimmed.
He didn’t know I was the one who had sent the anonymous email to that client. An email with evidence of how James had forged a signature on a previous deal. The documents he didn’t even know I had copied. Next came the silent freeze. His company account was flagged for suspicious activities.
He paced the living room in his boxers, sweating, pressing his phone non-stop, trying to reach his account officer. When he finally got through, he shouted, “What do you mean blocked? I own this bank.” They told him it was a compliance issue. He blamed his staff. He blamed hackers. He even blamed witches. He didn’t know the documents I sent were already in the hands of the FCC.
Thanks to grace and a quiet connection in the financial crime unit, James was now under investigation, and I hadn’t even touched him directly. Still, he didn’t suspect me because I had returned fully to my silent role, serving his meals, bathing Norah, staying in the background like a faded painting. He still called me names, still boasted about his sharp brain to his foolish friends.
He even gave one of them my old car to show her she’s nothing without me, and I smiled and waved as they drove off, because soon, not even his shoes would belong to him. Then came the shocker. One rainy evening, he returned from the office with a folded letter in his hand. His white shirt was soaked, his eyes read. What happened? I asked gently. He looked at me for the first time in weeks.
They removed me, he said. Removed you? Board of directors. They said my image is damaging the company. That pending investigation, I should step aside. I pressed my palm to my chest. Wow, I whispered. That’s serious. James collapsed into the couch and grabbed his head. They even froze my salary. My own salary, Anita. Can you imagine me? James Zoalabi.
I sat beside him, touched his shoulder gently, and said, “Everything will be okay.” But deep inside, I wanted to laugh because for years, I begged him to see me, to listen, to be a better man. He ignored me. Now the world was forcing him to listen to silence. That night, while he snored in the room with one hand on his chest like a fallen king, I opened my notebook.
I ticked off three items. Real estate deal ruined. Company account flagged. Suspended from office. Next step, destroy the image he woripped. The image of the perfect man, the husband of the year, the alpha male. I had already started leaking screenshots of his chats to a blog that specialized in celebrity scandals.
The same chats where he insulted his mother, mocked his staff, and bragged about cheating on me. I sent them anonymously through Grace’s burner phone. And within 48 hours, his name was trending. #Jamestheon, Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, screenshots everywhere. I can’t believe he said this about his wife. So this is the man we called a role model. Any woman that stays with this kind of man needs help.
He blamed his staff, accused his friends. He even accused his ex-girlfriend. But he never looked at the woman sitting across the dining table quietly serving his galaf rice with grilled chicken. I had become invisible to him again, and that was my biggest strength. One night, he came home late, drunk and bitter. He threw his belt on the ground, kicked the table, and shouted, “Why is the world against me?” I didn’t answer.
He turned to me with bloodshot eyes. “Anita, are you happy now? You want to see me suffer, Abi?” I looked up slowly, tears resting in the corners of my eyes. “No, James. I’ve always wanted to see you happy, but maybe you don’t know what happiness really looks like.” He stared at me, confused. I walked away before he could react.
As the days went by, James’ world continued to crumble. The investigation into his company uncovered more evidence of his shady dealings, and his reputation was torn apart by the media. His friends deserted him, and his business partners cut ties.
Meanwhile, I remained calm and collected, watching as James’ empire burned. I knew that the final blow would be the most satisfying.
One day, James received a call from his lawyer, informing him that his wife (me) had filed for divorce and was seeking a significant share of his assets. James was furious, but I just smiled, knowing that I had played the game perfectly.
The divorce proceedings were a mess, with James trying to fight for everything he had. But I had done my homework, and with Grace’s help, we had gathered enough evidence to prove that James’ infidelity and abuse had caused the breakdown of our marriage.
In the end, James lost everything: his company, his reputation, and his wealth. He was left with nothing but the clothes on his back.
As for me, I emerged from the ashes like a phoenix, stronger and more determined than ever. I had taken back control of my life, and I was ready to start anew.
I looked at James, now a shadow of his former self, and felt a sense of satisfaction. I had played the game, and I had won.
As James stood before the judge, his once-sharp eyes now sunken and defeated, I felt a sense of closure. The court ruled in my favor, granting me a significant share of the assets and full custody of Norah.
James’ face contorted in anger and despair as the judge delivered the verdict. He glared at me, but I didn’t flinch. I knew I had played by the rules, and the system had delivered justice.
After the court proceedings, James approached me, his voice laced with venom. “You’ll regret this, Anita,” he hissed. “You’ll see, I’ll come back, and I’ll make you pay.”
I smiled calmly, my eyes locked on his. “I’m not afraid of you, James. You’ve lost everything that matters. Your empire, your reputation, your family… You’ve lost me, and you’ve lost yourself.”
James’ face turned red with rage, but I just turned away, taking Norah’s hand in mine. We walked out of the courtroom, leaving James and his shattered ego behind.
As we stepped out into the bright sunlight, Norah looked up at me with tears in her eyes. “Mommy, I’m so proud of you,” she said, her voice trembling.
I hugged her tightly, feeling a sense of pride and accomplishment. “I’m proud of us too, baby,” I said. “We’ve been through so much, but we’re strong, and we’re free.”
