The Therapist

The air in Lagos was thick with humidity, clinging to Marcus’s skin as he leaned back in his office chair, his mind reeling. The morning session with the Adebayos had ended an hour ago, but instead of heading home to decompress, he found himself combing through the notes he had taken, searching for clues. Something about Victor didn’t sit right with him.

Victor Adebayo was a man of immense wealth and influence, but there was a shadowy edge to his confidence—a hint of someone who had stepped on more than a few necks to climb the ladder. Marcus had learned to trust his instincts over the years, and his instincts screamed that Victor was hiding something significant.

Marcus reached for his laptop, typing Victor’s name into the search bar. Public records and news articles painted a picture of a shrewd businessman who had built a vast empire in real estate, construction, and oil services. Yet, despite his success, there were few details about his early years or how he had acquired his initial fortune.

“Too clean,” Marcus muttered.

He clicked on an article about Victor’s rise in the oil industry and began to dig deeper. The article mentioned Victor’s involvement with offshore contracts, but one detail caught Marcus’s attention: a small, seemingly innocuous company name, Crestline Logistics.

Marcus’s first red flag came when a quick search for Crestline Logistics revealed nothing substantial—no website, no listed office address, just a series of vague references in obscure trade articles. He frowned, his curiosity piqued. He switched tactics, diving into financial databases and public registries.

The deeper he went, the murkier it became. Crestline Logistics was tied to a network of shell companies, each one more convoluted than the last. It didn’t take long for Marcus to realize what he was looking at.

“Money laundering,” he whispered, the words tasting bitter on his tongue.

He leaned forward, adrenaline coursing through him. The shell companies were designed to obscure transactions, but the breadcrumbs were there for someone persistent enough to follow them. Marcus traced payments funneled through offshore accounts, linked to oil bunkering operations in the Niger Delta.

Oil bunkering—illegal tapping and theft of crude oil. It was one of Nigeria’s most lucrative but dangerous criminal enterprises.

Marcus’s heart pounded as he pieced it together. Victor’s empire wasn’t built on clean business deals; it was propped up by a foundation of criminal activity.

The implications hit Marcus like a freight train. Victor wasn’t just a wealthy businessman; he was entangled with the country’s criminal underworld. And if Victor’s wealth had ties to illegal oil bunkering, it meant he wasn’t just working alone. He had to have connections—dangerous ones.

Marcus stared at his laptop screen, the enormity of what he had uncovered sinking in. He was no stranger to the risks of Lagos’s underbelly, but this was a different level. Victor’s connections could complicate everything.

But then a thought struck him: what if this wasn’t a complication? What if it was an opportunity?

Later that evening, Marcus sat in his dimly lit apartment, the glow from his laptop casting shadows on the walls. He poured himself a glass of whisky, his hands trembling slightly as he considered his next move.

Baba Jide’s threats loomed over him like a storm cloud. He had five days left to come up with ₦75 million, and no clear way to get it. But now, with Victor’s secret in his hands, the scales felt like they had shifted.

He leaned back, sipping the whisky as he ran scenarios through his mind. What if he told Baba Jide about Victor’s operations? The mob boss would likely be very interested in a man with access to the kind of money Victor had.

Marcus’s chest tightened at the thought. It was risky—too risky. If Victor found out he had betrayed him, Marcus’s life would be over. And Baba Jide wasn’t known for keeping secrets; the man thrived on leverage and chaos.

But then again, what choice did he have?

The next morning, Marcus decided to test the waters. He sent a message to a trusted contact, an old acquaintance from his university days who had become a journalist specializing in financial crime. The message was vague, asking about the legal implications of revealing information tied to criminal enterprises.

His contact called him almost immediately. “Marcus, what are you into?” the voice on the other end asked, half-joking but laced with concern.

“Hypothetical,” Marcus said, forcing a lightness into his tone. “Just trying to understand the risks.”

The conversation was brief but informative. The journalist warned him that exposing someone like Victor without a solid safety net would be suicidal. “These kinds of people don’t play games, Marcus. If you’re even thinking about going public with something, you better have protection—or a way to disappear.”

Marcus hung up, feeling no closer to a solution. He couldn’t go public, and he couldn’t go directly to Baba Jide without risking a backlash from Victor. That left him with only one option: playing both sides, carefully and subtly.

During their next session, Marcus paid close attention to Victor’s responses, probing gently into his business dealings under the guise of understanding his stressors.

“You seem like a man with a lot on your plate, Chief,” Marcus said. “Balancing a marriage, a business empire—it can’t be easy.”

Victor smirked, his usual confidence slipping into arrogance. “It’s not. But I’ve built everything I have through hard work and smart decisions. People don’t always see the sacrifices I’ve made.”

Marcus nodded, jotting down notes to mask his curiosity. “Sacrifices like… what?”

Victor hesitated, his gaze narrowing slightly. “You wouldn’t understand, Doctor. But let’s just say, running a business in this country requires more than hard work. You have to be willing to get your hands dirty sometimes.”

It wasn’t a confession, but it was close enough. Marcus felt his pulse quicken.

By the end of the session, Marcus had gathered enough to confirm what he already knew: Victor was deeply entrenched in illegal activities, and he saw them as a necessary evil to maintain his power.

As the Adebayos left, Marcus sat alone in his office, staring at the closed door. He was holding a loaded gun, metaphorically speaking. Victor’s secrets could destroy him—or save Marcus, if he played his cards right.

The question was, how far was Marcus willing to go to survive?