The city slept, but inside the penthouse, the night breathed.

The air reeked of sex and expensive cologne; shadows sliced the blue walls under faint LED light.

Zina lay awake, still as glass, her mind racing. Beside her, Tayo — Lagos’ golden boy, the face on magazine covers — slept like he owned the city.

An hour ago, he whispered velvet promises; she played along, laughed at the right moments. But she wasn’t here for him. She was here for what he didn’t guard.

Tayo’s watch was worth her apartment. His six-digit bank alert still flashed in her mind. Tonight, his arrogance would cost him.

Moving like a shadow, Zina slid from the bed, retrieved his iPhone from his trousers, and hovered it over his sleeping face. Click. Unlocked.

Her pulse roared. The banking app opened without a password. Balance: ₦32,845,500.11.

She keyed in a ₦5,000,000 transfer. Small enough to go unnoticed.

Then she froze.

Beneath the balance, a faint line blinked:

“This device is protected by silent alert tracking.”

The phone pinged softly:

“Attempted transaction detected. Location logged.”

Her breath caught. The phone slipped from her hand.

On the bed, Tayo stirred, turning slowly, his gaze suddenly sharp.

“Zina… what are you doing?”

Before she could speak, footsteps echoed from the hallway.

Slow. Heavy. Approaching.

Zina’s heart stopped.

Do you note the ghost at the door?

Continue reading the story…

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