I SACRIFICED MY WIFE AND KIDS FOR THE SUCCESS OF MY BUSINESS

I SACRIFICED MY WIFE AND KIDS FOR THE SUCCESS OF MY BUSINESS 

I never thought chasing a dream could turn into a nightmare. I started my business small, just enough to get by. I worked long hours, sleepless nights, hoping things would turn around. But no matter what I did, it never seemed enough. Every month, I prayed for a break, for a miracle. And that’s when the whispers started.

I met an older woman at a market. She sold herbs, powders, and charms. Her eyes seemed to pierce right through me, like she could see my luck running out before I even noticed. She told me she could help me, make my business grow, make money flow like I had never seen. At first, I laughed. I thought she was joking. But there was something in her voice, a seriousness I couldn’t ignore. She said, “There’s a price… but it is small if you are brave.”

I was desperate. My business was failing. Money was tight. Bills stacking up. People looking down on me, clients walking away. I told myself it was harmless. A little ritual, some powders, a few chants. But when she explained the cost, I froze. The price wasn’t money, it wasn’t time. It was my family. My children. My wife. The people I loved more than anything.

I fought the thought for weeks. I couldn’t sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her face, her knowing eyes, and I heard the whispers. They didn’t speak words I could understand, not exactly. But I knew their message: “Do it. Or fail.” Desperation does strange things to a man. Slowly, I convinced myself it was the only way.

The night I did it, the house was still. Heavy, silent. I prepared the black plastic bowl, filled it with powders, herbs, and whispered chants exactly as she instructed. My children were asleep, my wife humming softly in the kitchen. I followed every step, every instruction, shaking, heart pounding, hands trembling. And I did what I never thought I could. I crossed the line that no one should ever cross.

By morning, everything changed. My business exploded. Clients came from nowhere. Money flowed in ways I couldn’t imagine. But my home… it was empty. My family vanished in ways that made no sense. Accidents, sudden illnesses, small fires, disappearances. I told myself it was fate. But I knew better. I had unleashed something I couldn’t control. Something dark, something hungry.

And it didn’t stop there. Even now, I am never free. Shadows linger in the corners of my vision. At night, I hear whispers calling my name. Sometimes I see faces in mirrors or in smoke, gone before I can look properly. Sometimes I feel hands brushing my shoulder, though I am alone. I am not sure if it is them, or if it is guilt twisting my mind—but I feel it, every day. I feel them watching, reminding me of what I stole.

I have wealth. Influence. Respect. Clients who fear me, competitors who envy me. But it tastes bitter. Every deal, every handshake, every success carries the weight of what I gave away. I am alive, yes—but hollow. The shadows follow me everywhere. Even the money, the power, the attention cannot fill the emptiness.

Sometimes, I wonder if it will ever end. If the debt will ever be fully paid. Or if this is only the beginning. Every time I look at the world around me, I see the price I paid, the faces I lost. And I know, deep down, that some things cannot be bought… not with money, not with power… and certainly not with a soul.

The whispers are patient. They wait. And they always remember.