Many people ask me, Damian Williams, how did I go from a village boy who was slapped to a billionaire CEO at 17? What is my secret? Today I will tell you in this bonus chapter, because this is not just my story, it is a lesson for every poor boy reading this.Secret number one is PAIN. When Austin slapped my mother in front of the whole village and called me a bastard, I did not just cry. I wrote it in my heart. I told myself, that slap will become my fuel. Every time I was tired in Lagos, cleaning plates at Mama T's restaurant, I remembered that slap. And I stood up and continued working. If you are reading this and someone has slapped you because you are poor, don't fight them. Use the pain. Pain is the best fuel for a billionaire.Secret number two is MOTHER'S PRAYER. My mother Jayeola suffered for 13 years. She fetched water at 5am, she cooked with firewood, she was called a prostitute. But she never cursed me. Every night she prayed for me. When I ran away with a nylon bag, she d

We counted gold in daylight,We counted knives at night.Family smiles with poisoned lips,Betrayal wears a mother's face.I built a hundred houses for the poor,You stole two billion for yourself.This is not just money,This is war.Damian Williams did not sleep that night in Harvard.The Harvard penthouse was silent. Outside, snow was falling on Charles River. Inside, the billionaire's laptop was open, his face was hard, and his hands were typing fast. Sophie was sitting behind him, her hands on her pregnant belly, watching him turn from a husband to a CEO again.Lady Williams had done it. She had stolen 2 billion naira from Williams Group main Zenith Bank account. 2 billion. Money meant for workers' salaries, for cement, for the 100 houses project in Enugu."How did she do it?" Sophie asked softly. "I thought you changed all the passwords?""She used Chuka," Damian said, his voice cold. "Chuka was still a signatory. He was my step-uncle, but he was still in the system as Finance M

Gazing homewards my tears fall and I break up inside. Dust seals the past and carves past wounds in my memory. The sky is dark and the night is endless. Searching for a ray of light I craft a medallion And shine a light on the way ahead. Flying against the wind my determination grows stronger, I will protect my beliefs. Listen the past fades like smoke, Past wrongs have not been resolved. Once my sword leaves its scabbard The earth will move and the mountains quake. The flame of rage burns, the spirit roars, I will return to glory and rise above the clouds. Damian stood alone on the rooftop of his Enugu factory at 2 AM. The machines below were silent. The workers had gone home. Only the security light was buzzing over the empty compound. He looked towards the village road, the same dusty road that once took him from Enugu to Lagos as a rejected boy, then to Harvard, then to Dubai prison, then back home. Tonight, that road looked endless and lonely. His pho

I built no walls from hate,I built a gate.Not to lock them out,But to lift from drought.The morning of the foundation opening, Enugu rained heavily. Not small rain. The kind that turns red soil to thick mud and makes zinc roofs sing.Damian woke at 5 AM in his Ngwo village house. No AC. Just cold and the drum of rain. Sophia, seven months pregnant, was already awake, ironing his white senator with a charcoal iron, sweat on her face despite the cold.Mama Nneoma was in the kitchen, frying akara. The smell filled the small house. She was frying for fifty children."Barrister Emeka called at 4 AM," Sophia said, rubbing her belly. "Three hundred people registered online already. Students, okada men, market women. And one surprise guest.""Who?""Harvard alumni from Lagos. They saw your Dubai arrest video. They want to partner."Damian smiled. In his last life, nobody came to his birthday. In this life, three hundred strangers wanted to walk through rain for him.At 9 AM, the rain stop

Damian was in the factory office at Emene checking scholarship letters for Chapter 17 children when Mama Nneoma burst in shouting at the top of her voice, "Damian! Sophia! Blood! Come quick! Ewoo what is whrong there! Blood plenty!"Damian dropped the papers immediately. On his table was the scholarship list he had prepared for Chapter 17. Seventeen names - poor children from Emene community he promised to send to school free of charge until university. Chinedu was number one on that list. Brightest boy, 19 years old, who wanted to become an engineer."Where? Which blood? Who is bleeding?" He was already running out of the office, not even wearing his shoes properly."In back warehouse! Forklift fall on that Chinedu boy! Blood everywhere! Come oh!"Sophia heard the shout from the outer office. She was 5 months pregnant with their first baby, her belly already big, but she ran faster than anyone. "Damian! Wait for me!"They ran together under the hot Enugu sun. Emene factory workers ha