On a Monday morning in March 2023, Amara Nwosu woke up to discover she had bought a house.
She had not bought a house.
She had never signed any document.
She had never met the seller.
But somewhere in the Lagos land registry, her BVN, her NIN, her signature — perfect, precise, indistinguishable from the one she had used her entire adult life — had authorised the purchase of a property worth ₦47 million.
And the loan taken to buy it was in her name.
Amara was 34.
A data analyst at a telecoms firm in Victoria Island.
She was the kind of person who used different passwords for different accounts, who read privacy policies, who had set up two-factor authentication on everything she owned before most Nigerians knew what two-factor authentication meant.
She was, professionally and personally, a woman who understood how data worked.
Which is why, when she saw the loan alert on her phone at 6:47am, her blood went cold in a specific way.
Not panic.
Recognition.
Someone had been inside her life.