Di Cost of Ambition: Power, Betrayal, and Di Secrets of Wealth

Professor Adaobi Nwakaeme take another sip from her ogogoro bottle, feel the burn for her throat as she dey look her laptop screen. The algorithm don click. Three years of research, countless sleepless nights, and now e make sense: one formula wey fit predict market wahala like juju. She slam her glass down, spill some ogogoro on top finance reports.

"Fuck yes," she whisper for the empty room.

She close her laptop, look around her fine apartment for Ikoyi—wey she buy on credit—carry hope say tenure go land from Lagos Business School. E no land. Instead, at 42, she still dey hustle as associate professor with yeye pay and debt wey dey press her chest every night.

Her phone buzz — na message from Dean Matthew: You dey come tonight?

Adaobi hiss. Six months inside the knacking, and she don tire. Matthew Okonkwo na old cargo, twenty years senior her, still married to provost sister, and for bed? Like wet firewood. But na him dey control tenure, research money, and e promise say e go talk her matter for the board.

Busy tonight. I dey work on the model. She reply.

No dey do like this, Ada. I need you. Ngozi dey craze again.

She roll her eyes. She no get strength to dey hear gist about him yeye wife. Tomorrow. Bring that Hennessy you promise.

She fling the phone for one side, enter balcony. She gaze enter the next building. From the glass window, she dey see Olumide Bankole—her PhD student—waka for him apartment. Na Adaobi help am secure the place. Mentorship she talk, but she sabi say e sweet her to dey watch am. 28, smart die, humble, and him body na like say gym na him church.

Doorbell ring. Adaobi freeze. She think say maybe Matthew don show despite her text. But na Olumide stand for door with plenty papers.

"Sorry to disturb, Professor. I get breakthrough for the volatility algorithm," him talk, eyes full with excitement.

She let am enter, conscious say na silk wrapper she wear and ogogoro still dey her breath. "Show me."

Olumide open him papers for her table. As she pour drink for am, their hands touch small. She notice say him swallow hard.

"When we dey off campus, call me Adaobi," she talk, lean close to check him notes.

"That one no go pure," Olumide reply, but him eye no wan comot from her wrapper cleavage.

"Wetin no pure na to waste your brain for Lagos Business School," she talk. "This algorithm fit make us fuckin’ rich, Olumide. Mad money."

Him face squeeze. "Us? I think say na for your paper?"

"Academia na scam. Femi Adeyemi from Zenith Capital don reach out. Private money, real pay. I need partner wey I fit trust."

"Professor—Adaobi—dat go break our grant terms. The university—"

"Fuck the university," she cut am. "Wetin dem do for us? Work you like donkey for chicken change? Dey use tenure nack me lie for years?"

"E still no pure," Olumide insist, but him resolve dey crack.

She change gear. "No pressure. Just think am." She touch him arm. "Another drink?"

Three hours and plenty drink later, Olumide dey naked, scatter for her bed. Adaobi stand by window, dey look Victoria Island wey dey shine for distance. She know say she don cross line, but e be like say na fate.

Phone buzz again. Dean Matthew: You dey fuck up, Ada. I sabi your Zenith moves. Ethics committee go like hear this.

Cold fear catch her. The bastard don dey read her emails. She look Olumide, still dey sleep like mumu.

She type back: And I’m sure Ngozi go enjoy the hotel receipts and texts wey you send talk say she dey cold like fridge. Back off, Matthew.

Femi Adeyemi office for Civic Towers na big boy level. As he read her pitch, she dey watch him for one kind suit wey cost reach house rent.

"Impressive," he finally talk. "But how I go sure say this your algorithm dey work?"

She pass him one performance sheet. "I don dey trade small-small since three months. Just to hide am from noise."

Femi whistle. "And your school nko?"

"Dem no sabi jack. I dey publish fake research to distract them."

"And this your assistant—Olumide?"

Adaobi no flinch. "Brilliant but green. Him believe say we dey do am for economic theory. Him no need know about Zenith."

Femi nod. "I like you. Eight percent equity."

"Fifteen," she counter. "And job positions for both of us once we ditch academia."

"Ambitious babe," he smile. "Ten percent. We go find something for your... boy."

As she leave the place, she feel both high and hollow. The algorithm go set her free, but the lies don dey pile up like Lagos traffic.

"You dey fuck am, abi?" Dean Matthew bark for her office.

"Keep your voice down," she snap. "You dey mad?"

"I see am comot your flat 6 AM. You sabi say school no dey joke with staff-student fuckups?"

"You sabi policy?" she fire back. "You wey don fuck half the department?"

Matthew step close. "I check your research logs. Duplicate data, midnight access, shady movements."

"You dey threaten me?"

"I dey give you choice. Kill this Zenith madness or I blow your shit open."

Her blood boil. "You no fit even spell ‘algorithm,’ you foolish man."

He smirk. "But provost go sabi misuse of university tools."

After he waka, Adaobi call Femi. "We need speed. And I get one bastard wey need handling."

Olumide no believe wetin him eyes see. Server logs show Adaobi don copy all their research go external drive. The grant terms no even allow am.

Even though dem don dey knack like rabbit past few weeks, Adaobi don dey move funny. Cancel meetings, edit joint work behind him back.

Message land: Come my place tonight. Big news.

When he reach, she wear one black killer dress. High heels. No be their normal jollof-and-talk vibes.

"I don accept Zenith offer," she drop am sharp. "Dem want the algorithm. Big money dey wait."

Olumide feel like ground shift. "You sell our work? Without even tell me?"

"I dey tell you now," she pour champagne. "No more broke-ass professor life."

"This no be just about money," he vex. "Na truth we suppose dey chase."

Adaobi face harden. "Grow up. The game rigged. We just dey win am now."

"And us?" he ask, voice low. "You calculate that one too?"

She touch him face. "This thing real. But so is the offer."

Knock land door. Adaobi open am — Femi Adeyemi dey there, agbada sharp like blade.

"Olumide, meet Femi. Femi, this na the genius I tell you about."

Femi shake him hand. "Your madam talk say you get sense. We ready package offer."

"I never talk yes," Olumide reply.

"But you go," Femi say, eyes cold. "Everybody dey get price."

University security bounce Matthew. Whistleblower don send emails, receipts, sex messages. Game over.

Adaobi watch from across the quad. Small smile for her face. One problem down. Olumide next.

Naira Edge Fund launch party mad. Banana Island, rich people full ground. Adaobi dey shine for Deola Sagoe, champagne for hand.

She see Femi dey yarn with SEC boss. Connections solid.

"Big upgrade from department meetings," voice behind her. Na Olumide, tux sharp but him face dey heavy.

"You come," she smile.

"I still dey think the offer. Just wan see wetin all this look like."

"Na freedom," she say.

"No. Na you selling out."

"Belief fit change."

"Including us?"

Before she fit talk, Femi show. "Adaobi, Dangote boys wan see you." He face Olumide. "We need your answer by Monday."

When Femi waka, Olumide whisper: "I find your secret backup server for Yaba. You don dey trade this thing for months. That na securities fraud."

Adaobi almost drop her glass. "Olumide—"

"I also sabi say Matthew bin dey blackmail you."

"You no sabi wetin dey stake."

"I sabi well. The question be whether you still sabi."

Three months later, headlines burst: "NAIRA EDGE ALGORITHM NA SCAM — CREATORS TALK TRUE."

Femi dey rage. "You know wetin you just do?"

"I dey protect investors," Adaobi talk cool.

"You sign NDA!"

"NDA no cover fraud," she shoot back. "We either pause now and fix am, or wait make everything crash and enter prison."

Six months pass. The fixed algorithm dey work. Smaller returns, but stable. Adaobi lose clout, smaller office, lower equity.

But she dey sleep well.

Knock for door. Na Olumide, now boss for Covenant Uni lab.

"I no expect you," she say.

"Transparency summit dey Eko Hotel. I see your name for list."

Awkward silence.

"I sorry," she whisper. "For everything."

"Not everything, I hope," he reply.

She smile. "Suya for Glover Court later? No ogogoro this time. Clear head."

Olumide nod. "Clear head."

Some fuckups no deserve repeat. But some things? Maybe they deserve another shot.