Episode 2: The Day My World Fell Apart
The first person to call me was my cousin, Tolu.
His voice was sharp, full of anger and confusion.
“Anita, what’s this nonsense I’m seeing about you owing money and running away? Somebody sent it to me on WhatsApp. What is going on?”
I stuttered, trying to explain, but the words clashed against each other in my throat.
How could I explain to him — that his little sister was being paraded online as a thief for defaulting ₦41,500?
Before I could finish, another call came in — my aunty from Ibadan.
She was crying.
“Anita, don’t shame this family o! How can you steal loan money? Don’t you know we have a name to protect?”
Each word was like a slap to my face.
I ended the calls and switched off my phone, hoping to buy myself a moment of peace.
But peace was a luxury I could no longer afford.
When I turned my phone back on later, I found over 200 missed calls and 350 WhatsApp messages.
Friends. Colleagues. Family. Even strangers.
Some messages were supportive:
“Anita, don’t worry. We know you’re not that kind of person. Tell us how to help.”
But most were brutal:
“Thief!”
“So disappointing!”
“We knew she was pretending to be a good girl!”
The worst blow came from my office.
I got a formal HR email, requesting me to appear for a disciplinary hearing the next day.
How could I explain that I wasn’t a fraud?
That I was just a desperate girl caught in a web spun by professional scammers?
Tears poured freely. I sobbed until my throat hurt.
Alone. Ashamed. Angry.
And the worst part?
The threats kept coming.
By evening, the loan app agents turned up the heat.
They created fake Facebook pages using my name and photo, posting comments under random pages calling me a “419 fraudster” and tagging some of my friends.
They even sent messages to my church pastor’s wife, saying I borrowed money from multiple apps and refused to pay.
Everywhere I turned, shame followed me like a shadow I couldn’t outrun.
My neighbor, Mama Esther, knocked on my door that night.
She had received the viral message too.
She looked at me with pity in her eyes.
“My daughter, whatever you have done, you better settle them before they destroy your life completely.”
Her words stung because she wasn’t wrong.
I had to act fast — but how?
I spent that night thinking.
I didn’t have the full amount they demanded.
Even if I managed to gather it, paying back was now difficult to me because they had already tarnished my image.
I needed a strategy — not panic.
At 3:00 a.m., after hours of crying and thinking, I made a decision:
I would fight, not beg.
But before I could even start planning, something worse happened.
They sent an edited nudde photo of me — a photoshopped fake — to my ex-boyfriend, my former colleagues, and even my boss.
The caption read:
“This is the kind of person you trusted.”
I felt something snap inside me.
Rage. Helplessness.
This wasn’t about the loan anymore — this was a full-blown character assassination.
And if I didn’t act smart, I was going to lose everything.
