“No amount of success, money, or fame should ever come before self-love.”

Melody Ford chose self-love over the money, notoriety, and endless drama of being Jamil Walker’s wife. Having semi-escaped from the tumultuous and abusive relationship, Melody is only focused on her newfound future. Yet while waiting on the divorce to be finalized, Melody only has one thing on her mind: revenge. 

Melody wants her husband to feel a bit of the pain that he’s put her through. Deciding her vengeance should be personal, she goes after her brother in law, Salim. The same Salim, who been harboring deep feelings for her forever. And to him, blood ain’t thicker than love. 

Through all of this however,  what Melody seems to be forgetting is although her ex-husband is seemingly out of the picture — being the powerful man he is, his presence is always lurking. And she finds out how truly abusive Jamil can be.  

In this drama, as Melody’s plan comes together love, lust, greed, betrayal, anger, resentment, jealousy, and madness are felt. Melody’s plan brings out things that she could’ve never seen it coming. 


And the question now becomes: Was it all worth it in the end?

Prologue - Melody 

“What the fuck are you talking about, Jamil?” I screamed at my soon to be ex-husband. 

Jamil was my whole world at one point, and this shit was tearing my entire world apart at this exact moment. Before I get too far ahead of myself, let me start by saying my name is Melody Floyd. I stood at exactly six feet and was three hundred pounds, but it was well distributed (mainly in my lower half), which gave my big hips, pudgy waist, and stomach. 

I was absolutely gorgeous and my body was banging with a capitol B. I was a brown sugar delight with large hazel eyes and I always wore my hair in its natural curly state. I was packing a juicy, round ass and thirty-four D titties to go with it. Everything about me was fabulous, or so I thought. 

At the moment, I was standing in front of the man I thought was my forever, and he was telling me that he was having a baby on me. Five years and he thought I was just going to be cool with him walking into the house we shared to tell me he had found another woman and had gotten her pregnant. That wasn’t even the fucking kicker for me though. He had the balls to look me in my face and tell me that he didn’t think I should leave him, even with him moving her into the neighborhood. I swear I wanted to punch his ass dead in his face. (I’d done it before when came home from sticking his dick in a blender), but I could barely function at this moment. 

“Look, Melody. It’s not like anybody else can love you the way I do, so you might as well just rock with me on this. I won’t fuck with her like that anymore, but I want my child close. How can you be mad at me for that?” he tried to reason. 

And just like that, I knew my marriage was over. Call me dumb, but Jamil was my first in everything, and I didn’t know what it was like to be without him at twenty-nine years old. My biggest problem was whenever he felt like I was too close to leaving him, he would literally break me down by reminding me of all that he’d done for me. He’d remind me that everything I’d owned had his name attached to it. 

No more of that! I told myself. I was done! D-O-N-E — DONE!

“If this is your idea of love, I don’t want it, Jamil! I can love my damn self better than that if that’s the case,” I screamed, headed towards our bedroom. 

As far as I was concerned, he could move his side bitch into the house to put up with his toxic ass, because I wasn’t going to deal with this shit. It had taken me a while to build myself up from the lifetime of wounds left by society’s hatred of me being a big girl. Hating myself, I fell for the first person to show me any type of love. It just so happened to be Jamil. 

Now I was regretting that decision. But I meant what I said. I would love myself. I kept myself up high now, and I couldn’t break down. 

“Bitch, calm the fuck down and sit down. You ain’t taking yo’ fat ass nowhere,” Jamil bellowed, trying to scare me into submission. 

“And there it fucking is. Well, let my fat ass do you a favor. I’m going to pack my shit and you can move yo’ new bitch into the house. Just leave me the fuck alone,” I snapped back. 

The entire time I was talking, I was throwing shit into my duffel bag so I could go. I didn’t want any part of what he had going on. I was so wrapped up in what I was doing that I didn’t notice him walk over to my nightstand where I kept my gun. Call me crazy for not realizing it sooner, but he had started staying out later and later and I didn’t feel safe, so I bought a gun solely for protection. Now I knew what those late nights really were. I whipped around and was face to face with the gun. I damn near passed out. In the five years that we had been together, Jamil had never shown himself to be crazy like this. Yes, the verbal assault was there and yes, he’d raised a hand to send me flying across the room ... this was different — now suddenly, here he was holding a gun in my face, looking beyond pissed. 

“Jamil, stop, this shit isn’t funny, okay,” I muttered, knowing he wouldn’t kill me. Jamil was all talk.

“Nah, fuck that. If you leaving, you leaving in a body bag, Mel. I won’t lose you.” 

“You already lost me. And the sad part is ... you just don’t know it.” I said before walking away from not only him, but away from the toxicity that plagued my life for these past five years.