ACT I: THE ARRIVAL
Theme: Resurfacing isn't being seen.
It's being reckoned with.
MURTALA MUHAMMED INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT - NIGHT
The wheels of the private jet kiss the runway like secrets. The tarmac glows beneath harsh halogen lights. As the plane taxis, the city pulses just beyond the haze- Lagos, alive and watching.
A waiting crowd swells outside the VIP terminal. Journalist. Bloggers. Vloggers. Clout chasers. All eyes on the door.
And then she appears.
ADAIBA EZE.
Long coat. Dark sunglasses despite the hour. Lips blood- red, eyes unreadable.
Her heels strike the concrete like punctuation marks in a sentence only she understands.
Flashbulbs explode.
"Is that really her?"
"My God, Adaiba's back?"
"She's changed, look at her!"
"Where's she been hiding all these years?"
The crowd leans in- hungry for gossip.
Scandal. a selfie to feed the algorithm.
She gives them nothing.
Security flanks her as she moves through the chaos with practiced stillness. Her silence blade, Her face carved from secrets.
FLASH-
A ZIPPER runs down the middle of a body bag.
Young Adaiba, drenched in rain and police floodlights, stands motionless. A detective murmurs: "He didn't make it. We are sorry".
The flash of a camera, she flinches.
BACK TO PRESENT.
Adaiba slips into a waiting black SUV.
The tinted door swings shut. The crowd parts as the convoy glides away into the Lagos night.
VICTORIA ISLAND - LUXURY PENTHOUSE.
A sleek, modern living room.
Wall- mounted TV. A news anchor's voice buzzes through the speakers:
"...in a surprising turn, Adaiba Eze -
the elusive tech heiress and former CEO of the defunct Ezecorp- landed tonight at the Murtala Muhammad Airport after a seven-year disappearance..."
ADEKUNLE KAINE sits in the half - dark.
Shirt unbuttoned. Whiskey untouched.
The image of Adaiba on the TV freezes as he hits pause. Her face - older, colder - stares back at him.
He swallows hard.
His hand trembles slightly as he lifts the remote.
"She wasn't supposed to come back", he whispers.
His reflection watches him from the screen. Eyes wide. Haunted.
He stands.
The storm's coming.
And in heels.
CHAPTER TWO
OLD SKIN
EXT. LAGOS STREETS - NIGHT
A convoy snakes through the city.
Headlights cuts through the exhaust haze like surgical lights. The SUV glides, silent and tinted, a ghost in motion.
Inside, ADAIBA EZE watches Lagos roll past her window like an old lover she once tried to forget.
Her voice floats in - quiet, poised, dangerous.
ADAIBA (V.O.)
Lagos doesn't change.
It just gets better at pretending.
Underneath the new flyovers, the LED billboards, the ride- hailing apps and espresso bars- it still stinks of blood and ambition.
This city isn't built on dreams.
It's built on memory.
And memories...has teeth.
Outside, Lagos roars. Hawkers slap windshields. Laughter crackles from pepper-soup joints. A boy taps the window, trying to sell a single rose.
Adaiba doesn't blink.
ADAIBA (V.O.)
Everyone here is for sale.
The difference is the currency:
Some bleed for naira.
Some for status.
Me?
I bleed them back.
INT. THE BLACK SAPPHIRE - NIGHT
A modernist structure rises in the heart of Ikoyi, cold glass and steel against the humid sky. The Black Sapphire. Once the jewel of the Oasis tech empire. Now gutted. Empty floors. Nervous staffs. Ghosts in ties.
Adaiba steps out of the elevator onto the executive floor. Her heels echo down the marble hall like a metronome counting down to something sharp.
A cluster of employees hover near the reception - HR, Finance, OPs.
All of them staring.
Mr. OLOWU, Head of operations, approaches. Sweat beading under his collar despite the A/C.
OLOWU
Madam Eze. We weren't informed of your -
She walks past him.
ADAIBA
Because it wasn't your business to know.
He catches up, trying to recover.
OLOWU
Of course. I meant no- we've kept the lights running, Ma. We've been loyal to Oasis. We assumed the transition would take months-
She stops, Turns.
ADAIBA
Are you loyal to Oasis, Mr. Olowu ?
Tense beat.
OLOWU
P-pardon?
ADAIBA
You just said it. Loyalty. So I'm asking:
Are you loyal to a dead consortium that sold you off like scrap? Or are you loyal to what I build here?
He falters.
She doesn't wait for the answers.
ADAIBA
You are relieved.
OLOWU
Madam?
ADAIBA
Security will escort you. HR will issue your final packet. leave your ID on the desk.
Silence. The room breathes in. The air gets colder.
She turns to the remaining staffs.
You are not here to wait for instructions.
You are here to execute them.
If you're confused, I will make it simple:
This is no longer Oasis property.
This is Black Sapphire, a warhead steel
You work for me now.
And I do not forget.
Loyalty buys legacy.
Cowardice buys you the door.
Nobody speaks.
She walks into the CEO's office.
Closes the door without a backward glance.
INT. CEO'S OFFICE - MOMENTS LATER
She stands by the window, watching Lagos shimmer in the distance.
ADAIBA (V.O.)
The old skin must peel.
That's how you make room for new.
CHAPTER THREE
CORPSE IN SUIT
INT. MANDARIN BAY HOTEL - EARLY MORNING.
The sun hasn't risen, but Lagos is already vibrating beneath the windows.
Inside a presidential suite, silence, swollen and sacred - the kind that follows death.
A man lies slumped in an armchair, his suit crisp, eyes wide. Foam crusts the corners of his mouth. The table beside him holds an untouched glass of red wine and a bottle of still water. Both laced.
A white napkin has been folded into a triangle and left on the table like a calling card.
There's no struggle. No blood. Just precision.
INT. HOTEL CORRIDOR - MOMENTS LATER.
DETECTIVE TUNJI BAKARE, 42, walks with his hands in his pockets, his jacket unbuttoned, tie loose like a man who hasn't slept right in weeks.
He pauses at the door. Inhales.
The smell of money and death always lingers in these luxury places longer than the body does. He steps inside.
FORENSIC TECH
Poison. Fast-acting. Low dose. Slipped into both drinks, probably within the last two hours. No signs of forced entry or sexual contact.
Tunji walks to the corpse, crouches, studies the man.
VICTIM: JOSHUA NGWU, early 50s. Tech investor. Silent partner in Oasis consortium. Known for dirty investments in clean startups.
Tunji's eyes move slowly, deliberately - the way a surgeon might trace old scars.
Something glints beneath the edge of the napkin. He lifts it.
A black calling card with silver ink.
Only five words.
"Every debt has its date".
INT. HOTEL LOBBY - LATER
Tunji interviews a nervous security guard.
GUARD
I swear, sir, I didn't see the person's face. Just the cloths. All white. Flowing. Like something out of a firm. He or she walked out calm. Not rushed. No Security details, Nothing.
TUNJI
Time?
GUARD
Just after 2am. Room camera's been wiped, but I know what I saw.
Tunji closes his notebook.
A person in white. Calm. Clean. Dead man in suit. No trace.
It's Lagos, yes. But it's also a message.
And he's heard that message before- in another lifetime, on another corpse.
INT. TUNJI'S CAR - DRIVING - DAWN
The sky bleeds pink across the mainland. Tunji drives in silence. His eyes hard, distant.
The card sits on the seat beside him.
CLOSE ON CARD:
Every debt has its date.
He picks up his phone. Calls.
TUNJI
Put a call out to cybercrime and investor fraud. Cross - reference attendees of the Sovereign Tech Gala two nights ago.
(Pause)
Yeah. Include Adaiba Eze.
(Listens)
She's back.
And someone just paid the price for remembering.
CHAPTER FOUR
REMNANTS
EXT. OLOSA CEMETERY - EVENING
A brittle wind scrapes through the tall weeds . The sun, low and rusted, dies over the gravestones.
OLOSA CEMETERY - neglected, overgrown, forgotten by the living. A place where history is buried twice: first by soil, then by silence.
A solitary figure walks between the cracked headstones. Black coat. Hair wrapped in silk. No security. No cameras.
ADAIBA EZE.
She stops at a moss - covered marble headstone, half - swallowed by vines.
"CHIEF AGUMBA EZE. 1956 - 2013.
A JUST MAN IN A CROOKED TIME".
Adaiba kneels. Her gloved fingers brush the dirt off the inscription. She reaches into her coat, removes a single black rose, placing it at the base.
She doesn't cry. Her face still. Her silence a scream.
FLASHBACK - NIGHT, YEARS AGO.
Younger Adaiba sits at the back of a bulletproof car. Her father, Chief Agumba Eze , rides beside her, staring at Lagos through the tinted window.
CHIEF AGUMBA EZE
Lagos won't kill you with guns.
(A beat)
It kills you with silence.
Deals made behind curtains.
Names erased from ledgers.
Justice bought, memories sold.
You'll die here, if you wait to be seen.
He looks at her.
Don't wait.
Reckon.
BACK TO PRESENT - GRAVE SIDE
Adaiba stands. Dusts her hands. Her shadow stretches long across the tombstones. She walks away without looking back.
INT. THE BLACK SAPPHIRE - ADAIBA'S OFFICE - NIGHT
Dim lighting. Cold office. Storm clouds pressing against the floor- to-ceiling windows.
Adaiba sits at her desk . A matte - black USB drive rests beside her laptop.
She plugs it in. A hidden, encrypted folder auto - loads.
"SILENT DUST"
She clicks.
The screen floods with files. Audio. PDFs.
Surveillance images. Spreadsheet after spreadsheet.
Names.
Transactions.
Dates.
Shell companies.
Offshore accounts.
Government bribes.
Assassination contracts.
Boardroom meetings disguised as charity fundraisers.
The Oasis consortium wasn't just a tech empire. It was a cartel.
She clicks a subfolder: "DEATHS REDACTED"
Her eyes narrow.
Photographs.
Autopsy scans.
One document marked: "J. NGWU - CULLED 06. 14"
Adaiba exhales. Cold. Measured. Inevitable.
She closes her laptop.
ADAIBA (V.O.)
Lagos never forgets.
It only waits.
Her fingers close around the USB like a trigger.
CHAPTER FIVE
A MAN NAMED KAINE
INT. THE GREY CLUB - PRIVATE LOUNGE - NIGHT
Smoke coils in the air like whispers.
Jazz bleeds softly from a hidden speaker. The room smells of mahogany, money, and secrets.
ADEKUNLE KAINE, dressed like money made fresh - smooth charcoal suit, no tie, eyes sharp with old guilt - sips whiskey with steady hand that doesn't quite match the pulse in his neck.
Across from him sits Chief Aluko, older, heavier, a smile that never quite touches his eyes. Power radiates from him like heat from coals - slow, deliberate, deadly.
Their conversation is not between friends.
CHIEF ALUKO
There's smoke in the air, Kaine.
And where there's smoke...
KAINE
There isn't fire. Not yet. It's just noise.
Headlines. Drama for the vultures.
CHIEF ALUKO (smiling)
You used to be better at lies.
Or have you forgotten who we buried?
Cold beat. Kaine doesn't blink.
She came back wearing white.
Like a prophet. Or a corpse.
You know what they call her now?
(Kaine stays silent)
The Ghost Of Sapphire.
Tell me that's not poetic.
Kaine
She doesn't have the reach.
Not anymore.
CHIEF ALUKO
Reach isn't the problem.
Memory is.
It's the wrong people remembering the wrong things.
(Leans in)
This isn't about her.
It's about containment.
KAINE
I'm handling it.
CHIEF ALUKO
You're watching it.
There's a difference.
Aluko straightens. Fixes his cufflinks with the precision of a man used to issuing ultimatums.
If you can't silence her...
I will.
And you won't like how I do it.
He finishes his drink. Leaves without another word.
INT. KAINE'S PENTHOUSE - LATE NIGHT
The city glows beneath him. a sprawl of light and hunger.
Kaine stands alone in the living room, his jacket discarded. The news flashes Adaiba's face across the screen for the fifth time in an hour.
He doesn't look at the screen. He's staring at something in his hand.
A photograph - younger him and Adaiba at a tech gala - Her arm around his, her smile warm, innocent. Before the betrayals. Before the bodies. Before fire turned to ghost.
He doesn't speak. Just breathes into the silence for a long, fragile second.
Then throws the photo-frame - across the room. Crashing into the wall.
Glass shatters .
His reflection fractures.
CHAPTER SIX
CHIKA
EXT. YABA - NIGHT
The city pulses with noise - danfo horns, smoky suya grills, endless chatter of hustlers - in the narrow backstreets behind a mechanic yard, there is only silence.
A shadow moves between alleys.
Smooth. Precise.
CHIKA MADUKA - black leather jacket, boots, gloved hands. Late 30s, scar under her left eye, eyes like shuttered steel. She doesn't run. She stalks.
A man walks ahead, fast and anxious. Balding. Glasses. Cheap loafers. He checks over his shoulder.
Too late.
Chika moves like smoke. In one motion, she grabs him, slams him against a rusted wall. Blade glints under his chin.
CHIKA
Don't scream. Don't lie.
If you do both, I'll make sure they never find your tongue.
ACCOUNTANT (STAMMERING)
P-please, I don't know anything.
She jabs the knife slightly. Just enough for skin to remember.
CHIKA
You were Oasis.
Account division.
2014 to 2019
You think Adaiba Eze came back to wave at cameras?
(Silence)
CHIKA (LOWER)
Talk.
Or I cut your story short.
Your choice.
The man's face folds. Sweat beads instantly.
ACCOUNTANT
They're washing the money. Port Harcourt.
Through a shell - Jasperline shipping.
Disguised as logistics but it's just numbers and smoke.
Fake invoices. Dead contractors.
One of the directors is Chief's cousin.
Chika stares. Cold. Calculating.
Then she releases him. He slides to the ground, wheezing.
INT. THE BLACK SAPPHIRE - LATE NIGHT
Adaiba sits at a wide black table surrounded by blueprints, ledgers, satellite shots.
She doesn't look up as Chika enters.
CHIKA
He talked.
Oasis is laundering through a shell in Port Harcourt.
You were right.
A beat. Adaiba leans back, closes the laptop in front of her. A faint smile plays at the corners of her mouth - sharp and slow.
ADAIBA
Let's start the bleeding.
She turns to the map on the wall - red pins across Lagos, Port Harcourt, Abuja.
Her eyes land on one pin in particular.
We bury ghosts.
They build empires on them.
It's time to dig.
CHAPTER SEVEN
POISONED FRUIT
EXT. TARMORINE CENTRE, VICTORIA ISLAND - NIGHT
A Lagos night dressed in silver.
The tarmorine centre gala - corporate royalty, media darlings, and power brokers dance under crystal chandeliers. Security tight. Champagne flows. Laughter has an edge.
The event is meant to celebrate Oasis Consortium's Annual Innovation Fund. A show of dominance. Money pretending to be benevolence.
Then temperature drops.
Flashbulbs fire at the entrance.
Murmur stars.
Then silence.
ADAIBA EZE walks in.
Unannounced. Uninvited. Unfazed.
Dressed in sleek, floor-length white dress.
Minimal makeup. Eyes sharp. Neck bare, like bait. Her presence, first slap of storm.
INT. TARMORINE CENTRE - LOBBY/GALA FLOOR
The Oasis board members freeze.
Glasses pause mid air.
ADEKUNLE KAINE, mid-conversation with a senator, goes rigid. His grip tightens on his glass.
BOARD MEMBER (WHISPERS)
What the hell is she doing here?
ADAIBA weaves through the crowd like a rumor come to life. She smiles, greets board members like old friends. Then she reaches Kaine.
ADAIBA
You clean up well, Kunle.
Almost like a man with nothing to hide.
KAINE
I'd say the same, but you've never been one for disguise.
ADAIBA (DRYLY)
Oh, but I've learned.
Pain makes excellent makeup.
You should try it sometime.
She lifts a glass of wine from a tray.
Toasts him.
ADAIBA (LOUDER)
To second chances...
...and unfinished business.
The crowd claps. Some laugh nervously.
Others begin to whisper again.
EXT. PARKING LOT - MOMENTS LATER
Darkness. Then - a sudden power cut.
The light die. Generators stall for a bit too long.
In the shadows, a man is dragged between SUVs. A muffled scream. A short, brutal scuffle.
Victim: Korede Balogun - Junior Oasis Director.
By the time security gets there, he's unconscious, blood on his collar, a flash drive, stuffed in his blazer pocket.
INT. TARMORINE CENTRE - POWER RESTORED
Lights flicker back on. The music falters, then picks up again.
Inside, Adaiba, already gone.
EXT. PARKING LOT - LATER
Detective TUNJI BAKARE arrives. Coat flapping, eyes tired but alert. He crouches by Korede's blood - stained shirt.
A junior officer hands him something - a black calling card.
Same elegant script.
"Let the rot smell before we bury it".
Tunji stares at the words. Then at the tarmorine centre.
He mutters under his breath.
She's not just shaking the tree.
She's cutting off the roots.
CHAPTER EIGHT
FIRST LEAK
INT. NEWSROOM - MORNING
IVORYCORE'S HQ, ONLINE MEDIA PLATFORM - LAGOS
Phone lines burn. Editors bark. Headline surges across Digital Africa like virus:
"Whispers in the Oasis: 800 million
Vanished Through NeonTech"
The article surgical.
Anonymous sources. Leaked audits.
Insider emails.
It accuses NeonTech, a prized Oasis subsidiary, of funneling massive sums through ghost contractors in Ghana and Senegal.
The byline? Tomi Ajayi, Ivorycore's youngest, most relentless reporter.
The price tags names.
Faces.
Dates.
And it asks a deadly question:
"Where does the Oasis end - and the rot begin?"
INT. ADAIBA'S OFFICE - THE BLACK SAPPHIRE - DAY
Morning light cuts through tinted glass.
Adaiba sits behind her desk, reading the expose on the tablet. Her face reveals nothing.
Across from her, Mmachi Uzo, calm but wary, closes the door.
Mmachi
They think it was you.
Already trending. #BlackRoseLeaks
ADAIBA (FLATLY)
Let them think.
She puts the tablet down, sips espresso.
Mmachi
You planned this?
ADAIBA
No.
But chaos has a habit of arriving early
when it's been starved long enough.
She stands, walks to the glass overlooking the city.
Now they'll chase shadows.
While we move in silence.
INT. OASIS CONSORTIUM - BOARDROOM - SAMEDAY
Panic rides the room like smoke.
Kaine, eyes dark, in thought. Other executives shout over each other.
BOARDMEMBER
We've got senators asking questions.
The EFCC might open a probe!
ANOTHER
And that woman shows up just before this breaks?
Come on!
KAINE (SHARP)
We don't assume.
We find proof.
Everyone goes quiet.
Then Kaine mutters:
She's playing a long game.
INT. CHIEF ALUKO'S COMPOUND - NIGHT
The old man watches the storm on TV. A slow smile creeps across his lips - not pleasure. Something older. Recognition.
CHAPTER NINE
THREADS AND TEETH
INT. TUNJI'S APARTMENT - NIGHT
The blinds are drawn. The only light is the blue glow from a computer screen.
Detective Tunji Bakare hasn't shaved in days. Files lie open everywhere: case reports, yellowing newspapers, leaked emails, and a names list - names of the dead.
He pins four photos on the board:
*Segun Kalejaiye - murdered in a hotel, Oasis investor.
*Joshua Ngwu - murdered in a hotel, Oasis silent partner.
*Korede Balogun - hospitalized after the tarmorine centre attack.
*Agumba Eze - Adaiba's father, listed as deceased in 2013. Cause of death:
"Heart Failure".
But Tunji isn't buying it.
He cross - references death certificates, whispers from the Silent Dust USB drive, old EFCC records.
TUNJI (MUTTERING)
This isn't revenge.
It's Resurrection.
He uncovers an archived internal memo from 2012. Oasis was granted a bloated pipeline contract through ghost bidding.
The union rep who leaked it?
AGUMBA EZE.
Threatened. Discredited. Gone.
A final quote in a footnote catches Tunji's eye:
"If you speak, they erase your name first.
Then your face".
Tunji exhales.
INT. THE BLACK SAPPHIRE - STRATEGY ROOM - SAME TIME
Adaiba sits across from Chika and Mmachi. A projector screen shows Senator Bolanle Ojuade's face - smug, slippery. Headlines scroll beneath:
"EFCC Probes Ivorycore For Leaked Documents"
Anonymous Funding Behind Digital Media Outlets?"
CHIKA
They're buying him.
Same lawyers Oasis used during the union trials.
They want to burn Ivorycore's credibility - and you by association.
Mmachi
Tomi Ajayi is in hiding already.
Two of her sources has vanished.
Adaiba's jaw tightens. She leans forward.
Let them.
A fire looks real until you realize the smoke came from your own machine.
She presses a remote. The screen changes to an offshore account detail tied to Senator Ojuade's daughter's school fees in SouthAfrica.
ADAIBA
We don't beg politicians.
We show them their children's tuition - and what it's worth to stay invisible.
CHIKA (nods)
Want me to make contact?
ADAIBA
Not yet.
Let the serpent think it's safe in the grass.
Then we cut the whole lawn.
INT. EFCC REGIONAL OFFICE - LATER
A junior officer approaches a supervisor with a sealed envelope. Inside:
Anonymous Evidence Package.
Marked with note:
"Ask who signed the contract for NeonTech.
Ask why their son drives a car that costs more than his mother's ministry makes in five years ".
The supervisor stares at the name listed.
His face changes.
INT. TUNJI'S OFFICE - NIGHT
Tunji pins Agumba Eze's photo higher than the rest. Red string connects it to six names. All dead. All tied to Oasis.
TUNJI (SOFTLY)
Justice wears a crooked face.
But maybe this time, the face remembers who buried it.
CHAPTER TEN
SMOKED DATA
INT. DARK ROOM - THE BLACK SAPPHIRE - NIGHT
Rows of monitors flicker, code scrolls.
The hum of servers fill the silence.
CHIKA MADUKA sits alone, hoodie up, eyes locked in. She's inside Oasis's offshore server - a mirrored archive hidden under layers of fake shell firms and encrypted vaults.
Then: a click. a break.
She exhales.
(MUTTERING)
Found you.
Bank statements. Donation logs. One file labelled "Orchid Tent Trust - Kenya".
On paper, a humanitarian fund for children's cancer treatment.
But the cash flow?
1.2 billion laundered in 18 months.
In and out of fake hospital invoices, staged charity galas, ghost patients. Clean money out, dirty money in.
CHIKA (INTO PHONE)
He's washing money through a cancer foundation.
The bastard is using dying kids as camouflage.
INT. ADAIBA'S PENTHOUSE - LATER THAT NIGHT
Adaiba reads the report on a tablet. Stillness in her eyes, like a sniper before a kill.
Mmachi stands beside her, silent.
ADAIBA
People forgive thieves.
They forgive murderers.
But this?
She looks up. Cold fire in her voice.
She opens a secure, anonymous browser. Types a message.
"TIP - Orchid Tent Trust is a front. Start with the Kenya branches.
Follow the pediatric invoices. Connect it to Chief E.A."
Attaches encrypted documents. Sends it to a ghost email belonging to Tomi Ajayi, the journalist now in hiding.
INT. NEWSROOM - IVORYCORE - NEXT MORNING
The expose drops.
"Cancer For Cash: Inside The Orchid Tent Scam"
By Tomi Ajayi
Screenshots of fake invoices. flight manifests. Gala payments for "Child Outreach" that never happened.
The article stops the internet.
#Orchidscandal trends across the country.
INT. KAINE'S OFFICE - SAMEDAY
Adekunle Kaine, phone in hand.
He's re-watching Adaiba's gala appearance. Pausing on her smile. On her glass raised in toast. He switches to the leaked orchid trust documents. Re-reads one line:
"... Orchid Tent was established by
Chief E.A. Aluko in 2009..."
He tosses the tablet aside.
KAINE
How much does she know?
How far will she go?
If she's coming for him...
She will come for me too.
Which means I need to move faster.
Before blood hits the streets.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
KAINE'S CONFESSION
FLASHBACK - INT. LAGOS APARTMENT - NIGHT (SOME YEARS AGO)
Rain lashes the windows. Candlelight glows soft against Adaiba's bare shoulders. She's sitting on the floor, laughing, surrounded by papers - company memos, early-stage blueprints, financial forecasts.
ADEKUNLE KAINE, younger, rawer, in jeans and a white undershirt, lies on the couch, watching her with reverence. Love as devotion.
ADAIBA
These are the first roots.
You water them, they grow.
You cheat them, they rot.
She passes him a file.
This one....only two people has it.
You and I.
KAINE (SOFTLY)
I don't need to look.
If it's from you, I already trust it.
FLASH - KAINE'S HAND secretly sliding a copy of the document into a hidden envelope.
PRESENT DAY - EXT. ROOFTOP TERRACE - BLACK SAPPHIRE - DUSK
The skyline hums beneath them - Lagos in golden hour. Sharp shadows and glass towers. Adaiba stands in white silk, still as marble. A glass of red wine in hand.
Kaine, steps out of the elevator.
They don't hug. Don't shake hands. Just two ghosts remembering the bodies they buried.
KAINE
Thank you for agreeing to see me.
ADAIBA
I didn't.
I was curious how far you'd fall
before you crawled.
He tries a half-smile. Fails.
KAINE
We were different people then.
ADAIBA
No. I just didn't see you clearly.
(beat)
You wore loyalty like borrowed suit, Kunle.
It never fit you.
KAINE
I did what I had to do, they came to me with a deal - Oasis, dangerous one, they painted your father black with proof, solid one I might add, they said he was disposable.
ADAIBA
You chose survival Kunle.
You made me an orphan twice.
Once when I lost my father.
Twice when I realized I lost you.
Kaine swallows, the air between them thick with things unspoken.
KAINE
I loved you, Ada.
I still -
ADAIBA (CUTTING IN)
You loved your ambition more.
Loved the way it clapped when you betrayed me.
(beat)
You think this is about revenge?
KAINE
Isn't it?
She sets her wine down, steps forward, slow, dangerous.
ADAIBA (CALMLY)
Revenge is petty.
I forgive nothing, Kunle.
But I forget less.
I want you to feel it when it all collapses.
Not in one blow - in pieces.
Small, precise breaks in the bone of everything you built.
She leans closer.
You gave them my blood once.
Now watch how I make them choke on it.
INT. PARKING GARAGE - MOMENTS LATER
Kaine reaches his car, opens the door. Hesitates.
Inside the glove compartment is an envelope.
No name. No message. Just a photo:
Kaine and Aluko.
A timestamp.
Location.
Port Harcourt.
Date: One week to Chief Agumba Eze's death.
KAINE (SOFTLY)
She's been watching the whole time....
He gets in, starts the engine.
But the wheels, already spinning in quicksand.
CHAPTER TWELVE
THE MOLE
INT. THE BLACK SAPPHIRE - OPERATIONS FLOOR - NIGHT
The screens are dimmed. Everyone's gone home.
CHIKA Maduka sits alone, eyes narrowed on a glowing map of recent leaks - a trail of IP pings that shouldn't exist. Her fingers hover over the keyboard like a pianist waiting to strike.
INT. PR OFFICE - NEXT MORNING
LADI OLOWO - late 20s, tall, charming, too polished - laughs effortlessly with a junior staff as Adaiba enters.
He stands. Professional. Respectful. His handshake firm, eyes never breaking contact.
LADI
Ma'am. The Afternoon Business Daily wants a one-on-one.
ADAIBA
Decline.
I don't give interviews.
She turns, already halfway gone.
INT. ADAIBA'S OFFICE - MOMENTS LATER
Chika paces as Adaiba sits, unreadable.
CHIKA
He's the leak.
Used to be with Pixon Strategic Media.
That firm went under two years ago after laundering funds from a fake mining license. Guess who had shares?
ADAIBA
ALUKO.
CHIKA
Exactly. Ladi's too smooth. Too eager.
Adaiba sips her tea, unfazed.
INT. SERVER ROOM - NIGHT
A "Sensitive File" is placed in the system - Project Renaissance - claiming that Adaiba is planning a reverse acquisition of an Oasis subsidiary through a shadow firm in Nairobi.
It's bait. Fabricated. Watermarked subtly.
INT. LADI'S DESK - TWO DAYS LATER
He scrolls the document. His eyes flicker.
He forwards it through an encrypted app hidden under the icon of a fitness tracker.
Message sent.
INT. ADAIBA'S OFFICE - NEXT DAY
Ladi walks in confidently.
LADI
Ma'am, I compiled the press reactions on the Orchid story.
Also - there's a small blog in Kenya running with a bizarre take over story.
Obviously false.
Adaiba stands. Walks slowly to him.
ADAIBA
You lied to me, Ladi.
You lied with charm.
With clean hands.
You lied....well.
(beat)
You're hired again.
LADI (CONFUSED)
I don't understand.
ADAIBA
Good.
Confusion is the leash I'll keep you on.
She hands him a burner phone.
From now on, you feed Aluko exactly what I want him to taste. You're going to be my shadow in their camp .
LADI (STILL PROCESSING)
And if I refuse?
ADAIBA
Then I bury you.
And no one mourns plastic.
She smiles. Like frost cracking glass.
Welcome to the real PR.
Perception.
Predation.
Repetation.
INT. CHIKA'S OFFICE - LATER
CHIKA watches through the glass as ladi walks away, ghost pale.
CHIKA (DRYLY)
You didn't fire him?
ADAIBA
No.
CHIKA
Why?
ADAIBA
Every war needs a traitor.
I just made him mine.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
DEAD EYES
EXT. OBALENDE UNDERPASS - NIGHT
Rain threatens but doesn't fall. Detective Tunji Bakare, alone in a battered car, watches a man across the street - Lekan Ogedengbe, 60s, former procurement officer, once linked to Chief Agumba Eze, Adaiba's father.
Lekan lights a cigarette with shaking hands. Looks over his shoulder. Nervous.
Tunji exits the car, starts tailing him through the side streets.
INT. ALLEY - CONTINUOUS
Shadows twist. Footsteps echo.
Suddenly - Movements.
THWACK.
Tunji is hit from behind. Goes down hard. His vision swims. Blood in his mouth.
A hooded man looms, steel pipe in hand.
ATTACKER (COLDLY)
Stay out of graves that aren't yours.
Just then, a wild shot was fired by an unknown person, the attacker flees.
Tunji staggers to his feet, blood dripping.
In a broken window nearby, he catches a glimpse of himself.
Dead eyes. Tired. Hunted.
INT. TUNJI'S APARTMENT - NIGHT
Bandaged. Bruised. Tunji stares at a wall filled with photos, red string, notes.
One thread connects it all - Silent Dust.
He pins a photo of Adaiba next to her father's.
EXT. ROOFTOP BAR - VICTORIA ISLAND - NIGHT
Glass, steel, soft jazz.
The skyline glimmers beneath them.
Adaiba arrives in white, sleek, sculpted like armor. She knows she's being watched.
Tunji, sitting by the rail, doesn't stand. He's still hurting.
TUNJI
You didn't send the man who tried to kill me. But you knew someone would.
ADAIBA (CALMLY)
Why are you here Detective?
TUNJI
To ask if this ends in court or coffin.
(beat)
I've seen vigilantes. They want closure.
But you....you want silence.
She doesn't respond at first. Just sips her drink. The city whirs below like an old machine.
ADAIBA
You ever clean a wound, Detective?
TUNJI
Many times.
ADAIBA
Sometimes you scrape off scabs, flesh, memory -
Not to heal.
But to make room for something that can't be infected again.
(beat)
I'm not hunting. I'm disinfecting.
TUNJI
What about the innocent ones caught in your purge?
ADAIBA (SHRUGS)
When men like Aluko write laws,
Women like me become outlaws.
She leans closer, voice like soft thunder.
You think I'm dangerous because I don't play by the book.
But the book was written in blood not mine.
I'm just finally writing margins.
TUNJI (QUIETLY)
You could help me bring them down the right way.
ADAIBA
You're still dreaming justice has teeth.
(beat)
Allow me show you what it looks like when it bites.
She leaves.
Tunji stays behind, breathing in the weight of her war.
Camera drifts upward, past neon signs and broken streetlights, Over Lagos - a city drowning in secrets.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
THE VISIT
INT. THE BLACK SAPPHIRE - EXECUTIVE FLOOR - DAY
Rain smears the windows like someone tried to wash blood off the sky.
Adaiba's office is a sculpture of stillness - minimal, silent, deliberate.
Damola Aluko, late 30s, sharp-suited, UNILAG - educated and serpentine in composure, sits across from her. A legal brief sits untouched between them.
DAMOLA
Let's be civilized, Ms Eze.
ADAIBA
That depends.
Are you here as his mouth or muzzle?
DAMOLA
His hands.
The ones that signs court orders.
He slides a legal folder towards her.
You've over reached.
We are filing a court motion to freeze your business assets.
Sapphire, The Naira Trail Investments, Ivorycore - all under scrutiny.
Adaiba opens the folder slowly, her face unreadable.
Inside: Court documents, Official seals, Signatures. Impressive. And meaningless. She looks up, calm, almost amused.
ADAIBA
Your father finally learned to send someone who speaks in clauses, not claws.
(beat)
But tell me counselor - when you stare into your father's shadows, do you ever wonder how long it takes before it swallows you too?
DAMOLA
I don't scare easily.
She stands, walks to the glass wall behind her, Lagos sprawling below like a carcass of failed promises. She walks to where Damola is, whispers something to his ear. Returns to her seat. Sips tea.
ADAIBA
This meeting is over.
Damola, slowly gathers his papers, hands shaking slightly. No more smugness. Walks out slower than he came.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
HOUSE ON WATER
EXT. EPE - LAGOON EDGE - DAY
Mist rolls across the water like secrets.
Nervous canoes glides past mangroves.
Beyond, a strange structure rises - a floating compound, part house, part fortress, anchored in the reeds like something trying not to be found.
Chika Maduka, hoodie pulled low, armed, purposeful, rows toward it in silence. Her movements smooth - practiced. She doesn't look like a stranger here.
INT. FLOATING HOUSE - MAINROOM - MOMENTS LATER
The place is dim. Solar lights flicker.
Maps and dusty ledgers litter the floor.
The man inside - Nosa Euvarherhe, 50s, skittish eyes, uneven breath - is a man who's lived too long in hiding. A former Oasis accountant who vanished a decade ago.
CHIKA
You ran. That's fair.
But today, you talk.
NOSA
I already gave her the files. What more do you want?
CHIKA
The truth.
Not the numbers. The rot.
Nosa hesitates. Then opens a battered recorder, presses play.
INT. ADAIBA'S OFFICE - NIGHT
(INTERCUT)
Adaiba stands alone, staring out the window as the confession plays through her speakers. Her back, ramod straight. In her hand: the USB drive marked "Epe".
NOSA (V.O.)
It wasn't just money.
The security division - Iron Halo - it wasn't just protection.
They were executing targets. People with inconvenient shares, dissenting votes, politicians who wouldn't play ball.
(beat)
Your father found a ledger, codes - names.
Payments tied to dates. Each one matching a death labelled natural causes or accident.
He tried to go higher. That's when they made him one of the "Scheduled Losses".
INT. FLOATING HOUSE - EPE
Nosa's voice cracks.
NOSA
He told me he was scared, but he'd testify.
Said: "If I die, let my daughter know they kill men with contracts, not bullets".
CHIKA (SOFTLY)
They made it look like heart failure.
NOSA
They always do.
INT. ADAIBA'S OFFICE - NIGHT
The confession ends. Silence swells.
Adaiba, trembling slightly - not from weakness, but from the strain of holding everything in. She sits. Just for a moment. Then presses her hands flat on the desk. A tear cuts down her cheek. Then another. She opens a drawer. pulls out a folder marked "Iron Halo Targets". Inside:
Names. Photos. Locations.
One of them: Senator Tade Onifade.
Another: Dr. Hadiza Olayemi.
She circles both. Draws a red line through the middle. Connects it to another name: Kaine.
INT. FLOATING HOUSE - NIGHT
Chika zips up her bag.
CHIKA
I need you alive, Nosa.
But not visible.
NOSA (BITTERLY)
I stopped being visible the day I started working for them.
She nods. Leaves him a burner phone.
CHIKA
If she calls, answer before the first ring.
EXT. LAGOON - NIGHT
Chika rows back through the dark water.
The moonlight cuts sharp lines across her face. Behind her, the floating house fades into mist - The truth it holds, now a loaded weapon.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
WARNING
INT. BLACK SAPPHIRE - LOBBY - DAY
Chaos simmers just beneath the marble floor. Security tape flutters. Fire marshals comb through the building. A bomb squad dog sniffs around a potted plant like it could explode. No casualties. No device. Just a phone call, a voice.
And a threat:
"The next time, there won't be time".
Upstairs, Adaiba stands untouched, staring down at the scene from her office window. In her hand, the burned remains of a security badge - the one they left outside her door.
INT. ADAIBA'S OFFICE - MOMENTS LATER
Enters Detective Tunji Bakare, jaw tight, shirt sleeves rolled. He tosses a black envelope onto her desk.
Inside: Crime scene photos of the security badge. Burnt edges. Chemical residue. No fingerprints.
TUNJI
That was a message.
Next time, it'll be headline.
ADAIBA (CALM)
They're scared.
Fear is noisy.
Power is silent.
TUNJI
You're still not listening.
This isn't a game, it's war.
And wars have body counts.
He takes a breath. Steps closer.
TUNJI (QUIETLY)
I don't want to arrest your corpse.
A beat. Adaiba looks at him - not angry, not moved. Calculating.
ADAIBA
Help me dismantle it.
This.... cartel of rot.
She opens a drawer. Pulls out a thin folder. Slides it to him. Tunji stares at the folder. It's radioactive.
TUNJI
You're asking me to be a criminal to catch criminals.
She walks around the desk, close enough to lower her voice to something almost intimate.
ADAIBA
I'm asking you to stop pretending there's a difference.
Silence.
Outside, the rain begins - sudden and hard , drumming on the glass like gunfire.
TUNJI
You're not the law.
ADAIBA (SHARP)
Neither are they.
(beat)
The law's just the mirror we break to cut our way out of the trap.
EXT. BLACK SAPPHIRE - PARKING LOT - LATER
Tunji walks to his car, folder in hand. He doesn't start the engine - just sits there staring at the paper. Knowing, if he opens this, there's no going back. He opens it anyways.
INT. UNKNOWN ROOM - NIGHT
Chief Aluko watches surveillance footage from the Sapphire. No sound. Just movement. Tunji and Adaiba. The exchange.
Aluko smiles, Cold.
ALUKO
Good.
Let them build the fire.
(beat)
We'll choose who burns in it.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CROSSFIRE
INT. SAFEHOUSE - NIGHT
Heavy rain lashes the window like the city is screaming. Chika's burner phone lies on the table, vibrating. It buzzes again and again. Adaiba picks it up. An unknown number flashes across the screen. She answers. Says nothing. Then a voice - clipped, male, unhurried.
" The mouth that bites us now bleeds.
Come alone. Or we send her back in pieces".
Click.
INT. BLACK SAPPHIRE - MOMENTS LATER
The lights are low. Only the screens burn.
Adaiba stands still for a long time. Her knuckles white. Her breath measured. One hand clenches the edge of the desk until her nails dig into the wood. She didn't scream nor panicked. But something inside her fractures - just for a moment.
She pulls out a hard black flash drive from a hidden panel under her desk. The label: "Final Phrases - E.E.S". She plugs it into her system. The screen flickers. Then a full - scale digital warboard unfolds.
Maps of Lagos.
Pins on warehouses in Apapa,
guesthouses in Asokoro, estates in
Banana island.
Names: shell companies, aliases, bribe trails.
Timers, alerts, and kill - switch protocols.
Each one marked with a red dot: "Viable Target".
The screen hums with quiet violence.
She selects three targets. Hits "ARM".
A countdown begins.
INT. OASIS SAFEHOUSE - UNKNOWN LOCATION
CHIKA, bruised, unbroken, sits handcuffed to a pipe. Blood on her lip. Eyes fire, even in the dark.
One of the guards lights a cigarette.
The lights flicker. Then goes out. Outside, a car engine roars.
INT. TUNJI'S APARTMENT - SAME NIGHT
Tunji stares at his corkboard. Photos, names, strings. In the center: ADAIBA EZE. His phone buzzes. A message appears.
"Clock's started, Detective - You in, or in the way?" - A
He types, then stops.
He doesn't reply. Began packing his weapon.
INT. BLACK SAPPHIRE - FINAL SHOT
Adaiba stands alone. The map before her glows red, then orange. Three zones blink: Port Harcourt. Lekki. GRA Ikeja.
Her eyes calm, empty, almost.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
THE BARGAIN
INT. TUNJI'S APARTMENT - NIGHT
The city murmurs below. Rain taps the windows. Tension, thick and watchful, lives in the room.
Detective Tunji Bakare stands at his kitchen counter. Gun disassembled. Mind racing. A knock. He opens the door. Adaiba drenched in shadows and silence, steps in. No words. Just a mutual understanding - this is the point of no return. She hands him a sealed envelope. He opens it:
Inside - a flash drive.
Label: "THE NEST- EYES ONLY".
TUNJI
What's on it?
ADAIBA
Enough to make EFCC shake.
Names. Wires. A paper trail so clean even they can't ignore it.
(beat)
But I want more than a scandal, Tunji.
I want blood under the spotlight.
He pockets the drive. His eyes sharp.
TUNJI
Then let's get one thing clear.
When this is over - when the house burns down - you disappear.
ADAIBA (SOFTLY)
Disappear?
TUNJI
Walk away.
No vigilante victory lap.
No throne in the ashes
(beat)
Just gone.
Adaiba walks past him. Looks out the window. The city hums like a machine that doesn't sleep. She turns to him. Her face unreadable.
ADAIBA
Fine.
One last act.
But her eyes say something else.
INT. BLACK SAPPHIRE - NIGHT
Alone in her office, Adaiba sits before three monitors. She inputs a code. Account clearance begins. One by one, the real estate portfolios vanish - offloaded through holding companies and silent auctions. From VI Penthouses to Abuja land deeds, everything sells in hours. Liquidation without trace. Behind her, a white board shows:
Final Move: T- 9 days.
She clicks on another file: "A and S"
She highlights five names. Only two are still alive. She exhales.
INT. BLACK SAPPHIRE - ADAIBA'S INTERNAL MONOLOGUE
"You don't survive Lagos by being clean".
"You survive by being necessary".
"To the system. The silence. The story others need told ".
"Once you're no longer needed - "
"They scrub you out like dirt on white cloth".
She picks up an old photo: Her and her father. The corners are bent. The image faint.
" That's why this ends before am ended".
She tears the photo clean in two.
Not in grief .
In readiness.
EXT. OASIS TOWER - NIGHT
Far away, in the Penthouse of Oasis HQ, Chief Aluko watches a news report on a sudden real estate fire-sale. He narrows his eyes.
ALUKO
She's closing her doors.
Preparing her funeral.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
BLOOD AND BLACKMAIL
EXT. SWAMPY OUTSKIRTS - NIGHT
The wind howls. Chika stumbles barefoot through brush and filth, a gash on her temple, shirt torn, blood mixing with mud.
Her hands tremble, she limps past a rusted gate, collapses near the road.
CUT TO BLACK.
INT. BLACK SAPPHIRE - NIGHT
Adaiba stands before a screen, tracing her finger across a mapped rescue route. Phone buzz. Guns wait. Plan tick.
Suddenly - The door swings open. Two of her men rush in. Behind them: Chika.
Barely standing. Bloodied. Eyes sharp.
Adaiba stares at her. Silent. Something flickers in her - relief? guilt? awe?
CHIKA (WEAKLY)
Hope you didn't plan anything too dramatic.
ADAIBA (quietly)
I did.
(beat)
But you ruined it. Again.
Chika grins. Then collapses into Adaiba's arms.
INT. BLACK SAPPHIRE - LATER
Chika lies bandaged, asleep.
Mmachi Uzo, calm as ever, enters quietly, places a flash drive on Adaiba's desk.
MMACHI
We found it.
Buried under fake footage and ghost accounts.
Adaiba plugs it in. A video loads. Grainy. Time-stamped.
INT. DARK HOTEL ROOM - YEARS AGO
Chief Aluko, bit younger, sharper, pours a drink. Opposite him, a man - the fixer , now deceased. They speak in low tones.Then the line:
"The old man's made himself a symbol.
That's dangerous. Take him off the board".
Make it look Natural or perhaps messy.
Lagos loves messy".
Adaiba pauses. Rewinds. Plays it again.
"Take him off the Board ".
INT. ADAIBA'S PRIVATE STUDY - LATER THAT NIGHT
She uploads the video: open an encrypted chat. Attaches the file.
To: Adekunle Kaine
Subject: Proof of loyalty
Message: "I want to see how loyal you really are".
She hits SEND.
Then leans back. Lights a cigarette. Smoke curls around her like a crown of ghosts.
INT. ADEKUNLE KAINE'S OFFICE - SAME NIGHT
Kaine reads the message. Watches the video in silence. When it ends, he pours himself a drink. Hands trembles slightly. A photo of him and Adaiba in younger years sits on the table. He turns it face-down.
CHAPTER TWENTY
JUDAS IN WHITE
INT. TUNJI'S CAR - NIGHT
Detective Tunji watches from the shadows across the road as Kaine exits a secure building in Ikoyi. Phone in hand. Jaw tight. Looking both ways. Tunji zooms in on the license plate of the SUV that picked him up earlier. He curses under his breath.
INT. BLACK SAPPHIRE - CONTROL ROOM - SAME NIGHT
The room is dim. Blueprints of Aluko's estate lights up the screen. Guard paths. Motion sensor grids. Digital weak spots.
Adaiba stands with Chika and Mmachi, reviewing every detail.
CHIKA
Where'd we get all this?
ADAIBA
Kunle.
He gave us the whole skeleton.
CHIKA (Skeptical)
Just like that?
Adaiba says nothing. Taps a blinking red square on the digital layout.
INT. BLACK SAPPHIRE - ADAIBA'S OFFICE - LATER
Mmachi enters, holding a phone.
MMACHI
Detective Tunji called. Said Kaine's playing both sides.
He melt with Aluko tonight. Under a different name.
A beat of silence. Adaiba sips her tea.
MMACHI (softly)
He never changed. Not once.
Adaiba smiles faintly. Not bitter, Not angry. Just.... unsurprised.
ADAIBA (CALMLY)
I didn't expect him to.
I expected him to need me...
More than he feared me.
(beat)
And now I know - he still does.
INT. ADEKUNLE KAINE'S APARTMENT - MIDNIGHT
Kaine returns home. Locks the door.
The lights don't turn on.
ADAIBA (O.S)
Funny thing about ghosts, Kunle.
You can't bury them with favors.
He freezes.
She's seated by the window, bathed in moonlight.
He says nothing. Just sets his phone down, slowly.
ADAIBA
You told Aluko
KAINE
I told him enough to buy me time.
(beat)
And I told you enough to tip the scale.
ADAIBA
You gave me the knife
Then told him which way I'd stab.
KAINE (Low)
I'm trying to survive, Ada.
Just like you.
She stands. Walks to him, slowly. Puts her hand on his chest.
ADAIBA W
That's the problem.
I'm not trying to survive anymore
I'm trying to finish.
EXT. LAGOS SKYLINE - NIGHT
Thunder rumbles.
Below, Aluko's mansion flickers under lightning. The stage is set. All players in motion. But Adaiba? She's already one step ahead. And Kaine....he just gave her the excuse she needed to burn both bridges - and blame the smoke on him.
CHAPTER TWENTY - ONE
MANSION
EXT. IKOYI - ALUKO'S ESTATE - NIGHT
Thunder splits the sky. Rain lashes down.
The sprawling Aluko Mansion glows like a fortress against the storm - high walls , motion lights, two watch towers, and armed guards in black raincoats.
Inside the dark....
Shadows move.
INT. SECURITY HALL - 1:13 AM
Looping camera feed blinks - Silence.
Chika slides behind a guard in the hall - chloroform cloth. Collapse.
Adaiba taps a cloned keycard against a steel door. Green light. Click.
Mmachi disables a fuse box. Lights flicker in a far wing of the mansion.
Adaiba's men tackling the guards.
The operation is clockwork. Precise. Cinematic. Like a heist.
Rain drums on the roof. Boots squeak. Guns click.
INT. ALUKO'S STUDY - 2:15 AM
The massive mahogany doors open. Aluko stands by the bar, surrounded by six armed bodyguards, He expected them.
ADAIBA (CALMLY)
Let's not waste time.
Chika closes the doors behind them.
ALUKO (smirking)
You're brave, Adaiba.
But not wise.
Adaiba walks forward, sets a small speaker on the desk. Hits play.
"Take him off the Board. Make it look Natural or perhaps.
Messy".
"Lagos loves messy ".
Aluko's eyes narrows slightly. One of his guards - young, unsure - lowers his rifle.
ALUKO (snaps)
Hold your damn weapon.
BOOM. Gunshot. Young guard falls.
Silence breaks. Chaos rushes in.
INT. STUDY - GUNFIGHT SEQUENCE
Bullets fly. Wood shatters. Books ignite.
Chika rolls over a couch, taking down two guards. But a blade slashes from the side - a guard lunges. She stabs him back. Wins. But too late. Blood pours from her side.
Across the room, Adaiba takes down one guard, Mmachi takes a bullet to the chest while pushing Adaiba behind the desk, Adaiba swiftly shoots at the guard.
ADAIBA (screams)
Mmachi !
Mmachi's eyes lock on hers. She mouths: "Finish it".
Her last breath leaves with the rain pounding outside.
Chika, mortally wounded, crawls across the floor to Adaiba. She supports her head.
CHIKA (final whisper)
Make sure to win.
Am proud of you.
And then.... stillness.
INT. SECRET TUNNEL - SAME NIGHT
Aluko flees through a back panel in the study wall - into a private escape tunnel beneath the mansion. He pants. Bleeding from the leg. Suddenly the tunnel sensors trigger. And then - Adaiba steps into the passage behind him. Gun in hand. Blood on her face. Eyes empty.
EXT. MANSION - NIGHT
Flames rise behind her as the estate burns. From afar, the rain can't drown the fire or the screams.
CHAPTER TWENTY - TWO
THE FACE OF GOD
INT. PANIC TUNNEL - ALUKO'S MANSION - NIGHT
The tunnel smells of oil, blood, and concrete fear. Chief Aluko limps along the corridor, one hand pressed to a gunshot wound on his leg. His breathing ragged. His linen shirt soaked. He stumbles. Falls. Crawls. Behind him: Footsteps. Slow. Steady. Closer.
Then - she steps into view. Adaiba.
Soaked in blood. Hair clinging to her face. Gun low at her side. A specter in heels.
ALUKO ( Laughs weakly)
Look at you.
We're the same.
The difference is....you wore better perfume.
God knows that.
He spits.
Adaiba walks closer, expression unreadable.
She kneels beside him. Looks him in the eye.
ADAIBA (SOFTLY)
No, we are not.
You killed fathers.
Bought silence.
Dug graves with committee pens.
(beat)
You don't know God, Ekudayo Akintola Aluko.
You only rented his robes.
ALUKO (Defiant)
You think this changes anything ?
ADAIBA (whispering)
I'm not here for justice.
(leans closer)
I'm here for balance, Aluko.
He sees it then.
Not anger.
Not vengeance.
Mathematics.
Inevitable.
Final.
CLOSE ON: ALUKO'S EYES
Widen.
A beat.
Gunshot.
EXT. ALUKO'S MANSION - RUINS - NIGHT
Smoke coils into the storm. A siren wails far off. Adaiba steps out through the flames. Alone. Doesn't look back.
FADE TO BLACK.
CHAPTER TWENTY - THREE
ASHES AND SILENCE
EXT. IKOYI - ALUKO'S MANSION - PRE - DAWN
Flames devour the estate.
Emergency sirens paint the walls red and blue. Smoke coils into the dawn like incense at a funeral.
Detective Tunji Bakare pushes past firefighters. His coat soaked. Face hollow. He stops at the edge of the carnage. In the distance, a black SUV disappears around the bend - tinted, smooth, untouchable. Behind the wheel: Adaiba Eze, alone. Blood clings to her sleeves like cuffs. Her hands don't shake.
TUNJI (SOFTLY)
What have you done?
But she's already gone.
INT. NEWSROOM MONTAGE - THE NEXT MORNING
TV screens. Headlines. Blog feeds.
"Industrialist Chief E.A Aluko dies in Electrical Fire ".
"No foul play suspected - police ".
"Oasis Group collapses as arrest rock boardrooms".
Face blur.
Stocks crash.
Cartel crumbles.
Behind every fall: a faceless hand. Precise and silent.
INT. LUXURY APARTMENT - NIGHT
A high-rise in Victoria Island.
Adekunle Kaine lies lifeless on a leather couch - a glass of wine spilled beside him. Pill bottles. No note. The air cold. Too quiet.
On the table: a single black rose.
A ribbon tied around it's stem, neat.
In the doorway, Adaiba pauses for a breath. Then walks away.
INT. ABANDONED WAREHOUSE - DAYS LATER
The cartel remnants are picked off. Raids. Detentions. Disappearances.
Damola Aluko vanishes from a private jet. No trace.
Whispers say he ran. Some say he was buried. No one says his name aloud.
EXT. GRAVEYARD - DUSK
Two fresh graves.
CHIKA MADUKA.
MMACHI UZO.
Adaiba stands between them, dressed in white. No makeup. No armor. Just silence.
She places a hand on each headstone.
ADAIBA (V.O.)
We did it for balance.
But is it really?
Or perhaps a bit of justice layed somewhere.
They said vengeance leaves you empty.
But they never told me what to do with all the silence that follows.
FADE TO BLACK.
CHAPTER TWENTY - FOUR
THE EXIT
INT. BLACK SAPPHIRE - DAY
Bare walls. Cleared desks. A city folded into cardboard boxes. Adaiba signs one last document. Her name, sleek and final.
A young intern watches her, unsure whether to fear or admire her.
INT. CYBER CAFE - LAGOS - NIGHT
She slides a drive across the counter to a volunteer from a small anti-corruption group. No name. No eye contact.
Inside: the entire archive of her father's file.
"THE SAINTS OF SIN".
Names. Videos. Money trails. Court records. Signatures. Ghosts. Corrupt politicians masked as saints.
The Truth.
When the volunteer looks up, she's gone.
INT. TUNJI'S APARTMENT - NIGHT
Tunji arrives home, burnt out and limping from too many nights chasing smoke. A package sits on his table. No return address.
Inside:
- A notebook.
- One black-and-white photo of Adaiba and her father.
- A letter.
ADAIBA (V.O., from the letter)
"You were the only honest man in a crooked world.
That's why you'll never win it.
But maybe you'll survive it.
Tunji closes the box. Sits in the dark. Doesn't smile. Just breathes.
EXT. AFRICAN COUNTRY SIDE - DAY
A slow train cuts through a stark landscape - distant mountains and cold mist.
Inside, Adaiba sits by the window. Alone. No designer clothes. No weapon. No name. Just a small leather - bound journal on her lap.
CLOSE ON: HER REFLECTION IN THE GLASS
Calm.
Still.
Empty.
No smile.
No victory.
Just silence.
ADAIBA (V.O., from journal)
They call me a widow.
But I was never married to them.
(beat)
I only buried them.
With no resurrection.
FINAL IMAGE:
Train disappears into fog.