It started innocently. He prayed for me, supported me, and made me feel seen in ways I hadn’t felt in years. Little by little, I found myself falling for him ,for his words, his warmth, his attention. I thought it was love. I thought he cared. I thought God had finally answered my prayers.
Instead, he studied my weaknesses like a textbook.
He told me he wanted to “help me invest.” He told me my pension money wasn’t safe in the bank. He told me God had given him a vision for my financial breakthrough. And because I trusted him because I loved him and I handed it over.
Every cent. My entire pension.And the moment the money cleared… he changed. Calls unanswered. Messages ignored. Suddenly he was “busy,” “travelling,” “in meetings.” Until the truth slapped me harder than any heartbreak ever could: I wasn’t special to him. I was a target.
A victim.
He didn’t love me. He used me.And now I’m standing here with nothing but the pieces of a heart that trusted too much and a bank account that shows the price of believing in the wrong person. It still hurts, but I’m not ashamed anymore. I’m angry. I’m awake. And I’m done blaming myself for a crime I didn’t commit.
I never thought the person who preached about love, trust, and faith would be the same person who would break me. But life has a cruel way of showing you that even the people wearing holy collars can have the darkest intentions.
One day, I’ll recover. One day, he’ll answer for what he did. But today, I tell my story so no one else becomes a victim of a man who hides behind God while breaking the very people he claims to serve.
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