The Pretty Face Cracks

Location: Lekki Phase 1

Dele Zubair's new apartment overlooked the ocean.

It was everything a revolutionary wasn't supposed to have:

Imported marble floors

State security patrols

A fridge stocked by silent assistants

He stared out at the water. No smile.

🧠 Seeds of Doubt

It started with a message.

An anonymous text. No name, no emoji.

"What did they promise you in return for your silence?"

He ignored it.

Then another came.

"Your father would spit on what you've become."

That one hit deeper.

His father had died last month. Alone. In a hospital missing medicine.

The regime sent flowers. Korex paid for the funeral.

📉 The Algorithm Breaks

His team had noticed it too: Engagement was dropping.

People were still watching his videos — but not commenting.

Likes were down. DMs were full of questions, not praise.

"You're starting to feel fake, bro," someone posted under his last Instagram reel.

"How are you always calm when the world's burning?"

That line stuck with him.

He had been calm.

But was that strength… or silence?

🧾 The First Clue

While prepping for a livestream, he accidentally opened the wrong folder on a shared drive Korex's team had given him.

Inside:

Footage of Halima's "confession"… with missing layers and rendering files

Voice synthesis software logs

A bank document showing Dele's own account was being funded through a shell company tied to Korex Gold Media Ltd.

He froze.

"They forged her video…"

He checked the timestamps.

They started a week before Halima even disappeared.

🎭 Doubt Becomes Dangerous

That night, Dele canceled his livestream for the first time.

His PR team panicked.

"People are expecting you to respond to these VDM leaks!"

"Say something before you lose them!"

He just said:

"Maybe they deserve to hear the truth."

The room fell silent.

One assistant quietly texted Korex.

👁 Meanwhile: Korex Watches

Korex received the message.

He didn't flinch.

"He's soft. I told you."

Babajide leaned forward.

"What's the move?"

Korex replied:

"We'll let him think he's independent. Let him go digging. Let him feel heroic."

He smiled darkly.

"And when he's sure he's ready to expose us…

We'll remind him who made him."

Location: Somewhere in Bauchi State

A former radio repair shop turned safehouse.

Tayo paced in the dim room, listening to a burner laptop hum.

The screen showed map pings — tracking each drop point of VDM's secret leak campaign.

One red dot blinked faster than the others.

Too fast.

"We were only in Jos for two hours," he muttered. "How did they find us?"

🕵️ A Pattern of Betrayal

He pulled up three other incidents:

The warehouse in Ilorin: Raided ten minutes after they uploaded a file.

The internet café in Zaria: Shut down an hour after Halima sent metadata from there.

The contact in Enugu: Vanished after a single call to Tayo's backup line.

It wasn't coincidence anymore.

It was a pattern.

⚠️ The Leak Is Internal

Tayo didn't sleep that night.

He ran digital sweeps. Checked devices. Checked people.

Only a few had full access to travel routes and drop points:

Himself

VDM

Jamilah, the tech lead

Hassan, their logistics coordinator

Bimbo, the ex-intelligence analyst

…and a new recruit: Raymond

Quiet. Helpful. Loyal.

Too loyal.

Tayo's stomach turned.

"We've been watching the news. But someone's been watching us."

🧪 The Trap

He needed proof.

Tayo sent out a fake itinerary to just three people:

A meeting point outside Bauchi to pass encrypted data to a new partner in Kenya.

Only the mole would act on it.

He waited.

Two hours later…

A government drone flew over that location.

Bingo.

🥶 The Confrontation

That night, Tayo entered the safehouse kitchen where Raymond sat chopping onions.

"Funny thing about onions," Tayo said.

"They make your eyes water… but not for the reason you think."

Raymond paused.

"You okay, bro?"

Tayo placed a phone on the table. It lit up with the drone's flight log.

"You gave them the drop. Just admit it."

Raymond's expression didn't change — but his knife-hand tightened.

"You sure you want to have this conversation… alone?"

A long silence.

Then Tayo pulled back his jacket — revealing the butt of a pistol.

"I wasn't alone."

Behind him, Jamilah stepped in, armed.

"You were sloppy, Raymond," she said coldly.

"Korex bought you cheap."

Raymond raised his hands.

"No one's loyal to ghosts," he said. "VDM's already dead. You just haven't buried him yet."

🕳 VDM Responds

Later, they tied Raymond up and brought him to VDM.

"What should we do with him?" Tayo asked.

VDM looked at the man for a long time.

Then whispered:

"We send him back."

"Alive?" Jamilah asked.

"No," VDM said. "But branded. So they know we're watching now, too.

Location: Ikoyi, Lagos

Rain pattered against the tinted glass of a high-rise café.

Dele sipped lukewarm tea, watching pedestrians flow like ants across Awolowo Road.

His mind swirled with images: the forged confession… his father's face… the silent stares from his own team.

"You're losing them," a voice inside whispered.

"And you were never really one of them."

A shadow slid into the seat across from him.

Dele looked up — and froze.

"Halima?"

🥀 The Reunion

Her scarf was pulled low. Her eyes were sharper than he remembered.

"Don't say my name again," she whispered. "I only have seven minutes before someone recognizes me."

"Why are you here?" Dele asked, jaw clenched. "To finish the game you started?"

She slid a flash drive across the table.

"I came to give you a choice."

📂 The Truth on a Drive

Inside the flash:

Raw render files of her fake confession

A log of the AI model used to synthesize her voice

A private video of her interrogation — beaten, threatened, begging for her sister's safety

"They didn't just frame me," she said. "They erased me."

"Why come to me?" Dele asked. "You think I'm some kind of hero?"

"No," she said. "I think you're the last person Korex trusts. And I think… you're starting to hate that."

🔫 The Trap Tightens

Outside the café, two black SUVs pulled up silently.

Korex's men. Plainclothes. No insignias.

Inside, Halima's phone vibrated once.

"They know. Run." —GhostMode

Her breath caught.

"They found me."

Dele stood immediately.

"Come with me. Now."

"They'll kill you too."

"Then let's make it worth it."

🚨 The Escape

Through the kitchen.

Down the service stairs.

Out the back into heavy rain.

The men chased. Dele and Halima ran.

They ducked into a parking garage. Dele slammed his fist on a locked car until the alarm wailed — scattering their pursuers for a few seconds.

"You have a safehouse?" he asked.

"No," she gasped. "Just one name: Jamilah. Tayo's team. Bauchi."

Dele handed her the flash drive.

"I'll buy you a car and time. You find them. Give them this. Expose all of it."

"What about you?"

"I'll go back in. Play dumb. Let them keep trusting me."

He looked into her eyes.

"For now."

🧨 Final Twist

As she vanished into the storm, Dele returned to his car — only to find Korex already inside.

Sipping Dele's tea. Calm.

"We have a problem," Korex said.

"You mean she's the problem?"

"No," Korex replied. "You are. But you haven't fully realized it yet."

His smile was thin.

"So we'll give you one last chance to be useful."

The door locked with a soft click.