He Deceived Me To Sleep With A Dog

There’s a German bulldog in my area owned by a very rich and powerful man.

The dog’s net worth is bigger than that of some humans.

Yes, you heard me right.

The dog is the only family the wealthy man has left. Rumors say the man has willed all his money and properties to the dog. Rambo, as the dog is called, is treated like royalty

guarded by heavy security whenever he goes out for a stroll.

The guards bow to him and carefully take instructions as if he were human.

_____

One quiet afternoon, I was at my small salon, fixing my nails and braiding my hair since no customer had come in yet.

That was when my boyfriend, Tony, walked in.

I greeted him warmly and asked what he wanted. He hesitated for a moment, then said something unimaginable.

“Babe, I need you to do something for us,” he said.

I dropped what I was doing and gave him my full attention.

“Babe, poverty has dealt with us,” he continued. “Before we eat, we struggle.”

I urged him to go straight to the point.

Then he said it.

“Babe, I want you to sl££p with Honorable Rambo—for ten million naira.”

Everything went blurry at first.

I cleaned my ears to be sure I heard him right!

There was only one Honorable Rambo in this town—the bulldog.

I stared at him in confusion.

He nodded, explaining that the wealthy man was looking for someone to please Rambo and was willing to pay any woman who accepted.

According to him, one night would change our lives forever.

He begged me, saying that after it, we would leave the town and start a better life.

Angrily, I slapped him hard and ordered him out of my salon.

But instead of leaving, he fell to his knees, crying and begging profusely. He held onto my thighs, pleading, but I pushed him away and forced him out.

The whole day, I couldn’t do anything else but think.

Poverty has really dealt with us.

And I loved Tony deeply. The thought of losing him broke my heart.

“If sl**ping with Honorable Rambo will free us from poverty, then maybe I should do it,” I thought.

By nightfall, my mind was made up.

The next day, I planned to meet Tony so we could go see the wealthy man together.

If you want, I can:

We left early that morning.

Too early.

The sun was barely up, and the streets were still quiet, the kind of quiet that makes you hear your own thoughts too clearly. Tony walked ahead of me, his steps fast, determined, like someone afraid to change his mind.

I struggled to keep up.

“Why are we going so early?” I asked.

“The Chief likes discipline,” he replied without turning back. “People who come late don’t get opportunities.”

Opportunities.

That word sat badly in my stomach.

The Chief’s house wasn’t really a house—it was an estate. Tall gates, electric wires, armed guards, silence so thick it felt controlled. When we mentioned Honorable Rambo, the guards didn’t ask questions. They didn’t even look surprised.

They opened the gate immediately.

Inside, everything screamed power. Clean paths, trimmed lawns, men in suits standing still like statues. And then I saw him.

Honorable Rambo.

The German bulldog sat calmly on a raised platform, his gold collar shining in the morning light. Guards stood around him respectfully, heads slightly bowed.

My chest tightened.

The Chief appeared moments later—an old man with sharp eyes and a calm voice that carried authority.

“You came,” he said, looking at Tony.

“Yes, Chief,” Tony replied quickly. “As agreed.”

As agreed?

I turned to him. “Tony?”

He didn’t answer

The Chief looked at me slowly, from head to toe—not like a man looking at a woman, but like a man inspecting goods.

“This is her?” he asked.

Tony nodded. “Yes, Chief.”

My heart skipped violently. “What do you mean ‘her’?”

The Chief gestured, and a guard brought out an envelope. He opened it, counted the money calmly, then pushed it toward Tony.

“Ten million naira,” the Chief said. “Complete.”

My ears rang.

“Tony…?” My voice shook. “What is happening?”

Tony picked up the envelope with trembling hands.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered. “This is the only way.”

That was when the truth finally hit me.

Tony didn’t bring me here with him.

He brought me here for them.

For the dog.

I stepped back, shaking my head. “No. You can’t do this to me.”

He couldn’t look at my face.

The guards stepped forward.

“Please!” I cried, grabbing Tony’s arm. “Remember what we’ve been through!”

He gently removed my hand.

That small action hurt more than a slap.

They took me away while Tony stood there holding the money—the money he traded my life for.

They led me down a long hallway, away from the bright compound, away from the Chief, away from everything familiar. The walls grew darker. The air colder.

A door appeared at the end.

Heavy. Metallic.

“This is where you’ll stay,” one of the guards said.

“Stay for what?” I asked, my voice breaking.

No answer.

The door closed.

KLAK.

The sound echoed inside my head.

I rushed to the door, crying, screaming Tony’s name until my throat burned. No response came back.

I slid down to the floor, shaking.

Hours passed. Or minutes. Time stopped meaning anything.

That was when the realization settled fully.

I wasn’t waiting for the Chief.

I wasn’t waiting for an explanation.

I was waiting for Honorable Rambo.

As night fell, I heard movement outside—boots, keys, low voices. Then something else.

Breathing.

Deep. Heavy.

Footsteps stopped outside my door.

A shadow passed beneath it.

My body went numb.

This was the end point of Tony’s love.

This was what ten million naira bought.

The lock began to turn slowly.

And in that moment, I understood something I would never forget:

The most dangerous thing poverty can do

is put your life in the hands of someone who loves money more than you.

TO BE CONTINUED…