09/10/2025
The Million in Her Account
The night I found out, I couldn’t sleep.
A million naira—sitting quietly in my wife’s bank account.
It didn’t make sense. Last year, when I’d helped her renew her ATM card, that same account had barely thirty thousand in it. Thirty thousand. She didn’t even have a job then.
Now one million.
I stared at the phone screen for a long time, the digits glowing like something from a dream I didn’t want to believe.
My wife, Ada, had started working with a woman she called her friend about seven months ago. It wasn’t anything official, more like she helped out from time to time. The woman was a supervisor at a club somewhere in town. Ada would go three times a week, sometimes more, leaving around eight in the evening and returning before midnight.
“Just a few hours,” she’d said, smiling. “She pays me forty or fifty thousand when I help.”
I’d been skeptical. The idea of my wife working in a club didn’t sit well with me. But she was stubborn about it—said she wanted a side hustle, something to make her feel useful. Since we got married in 2021, I’d carried most of the load—bills, rent, food, everything. So when she insisted, I let it be. I told myself maybe it would even ease my own financial pressure.
But now… this?
Seven figures in less than a year?
When I confronted her that evening, she was sitting on the bed, scrolling through her phone.
“Ada,” I said, trying to sound calm, “there’s over a million naira in your account. How come?”
She looked up, surprised—or pretending to be. “A million?” she repeated, blinking too quickly.
“Yes. I just checked.”
She laughed nervously. “It’s from my job now. You know I’ve been saving.”
I stared at her, disbelief twisting inside me. “Saving? From a job that pays you fifty thousand at most? Even if you never spent a kobo, that’s barely three hundred and fifty thousand in seven months. So where did the rest come from?”
Her smile faded. “I—I don’t know,” she said after a moment, her eyes darting away.
“You don’t know?” My voice rose. “Ada, this isn’t small money. There are large deposits here—one of them is eight hundred and eighty thousand in a single day!”
She went quiet. Completely quiet.
When I asked her to print the account statement, it only made things worse. The transfers were mostly from mobile money wallets I didn’t recognize. A few cash deposits too. Heavy ones.
That night, she stopped talking to me altogether. The silence in our house became thick—heavier than any argument.
Then, a few days later, she finally spoke.
“If it bothers you so much,” she said quietly, “take the money. Take everything. I don’t even want it anymore. Just stop asking me questions.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
“I don’t want the money, Ada. I want the truth.”
She turned away, tears filling her eyes. “There’s nothing to tell,” she whispered.
But there had to be something. How does a woman with no real job, who doesn’t earn even two hundred thousand a month, suddenly have over a million in her account?
Was she seeing someone else? Some rich man from the club? Or could it be something darker—something illegal?
The questions clawed at me, day and night. The truth was, I didn’t care about the money. I just wanted to understand what kind of secret my wife was keeping from me and why.
Now, she won’t speak. She barely looks at me. And that account balance still lingers in my mind, like a shadow I can’t shake.
I’m scared. Scared of what I might find out if I keep digging and even more scared of what it means if I stop .................TO CONTINUE SOON
And do u think he will later find out the truth?
let me see ur reactions on the comment section.
