No one expects that the people they trust, love, and consider family could be the ones to stab them in the back. But the harsh reality is, sometimes the biggest betrayals come from those closest to us.
We spoke to five Nigerians who lost money to loved ones they trusted. From the mum who lost her life savings to her daughter to the woman whose boyfriend made her fund an imaginary business, their stories show what happens when trust turns toxic.
“My daughter emptied my account and gave all my money to her boyfriend” — Nike*, 64
I’m typically very cautious of my bank account and everything money-related because I always have plenty of money in my savings. My grown children send monthly allowances to me and my husband, so I hardly touch whatever I make from my tailoring business. My siblings also know how careful I am with money, so they always keep money they don’t want to touch with me.
To show the extent of how cautious I am with money, I take two buses to the only bank in my area to deposit or withdraw money as little as ₦5k. I can use a POS agent, but I don’t trust people like that. I’ve heard too many stories of fake alerts and 419 POS agents who can save your ATM card details to steal your money. I didn’t want to hear long story. The only person I trusted was my lastborn daughter.
She’s a uni student who lives in the hostel, but we’re still in the same city, so whenever I had to go to the bank, she followed me. I don’t know how to read too well, so my daughter helped me with the forms. She was like my handbag. Even my husband didn’t know my banking details or how much I had saved, but my daughter knew everything. She had my ATM card and would transfer money through a POS agent when I needed money. That was the only method I was comfortable with because I only had to meet the agent and collect money.
Around January 2024, I went to the bank to complain because I hadn’t gotten SMS alerts for about three months. This time, I went alone because my daughter wasn’t around. In fact, I’d been asking her to follow me to the bank since I noticed the issue, but she always gave one excuse or another. It turned out she did that on purpose.
When I got to the bank, I met the biggest shock of my life. All the money was gone. ₦2.2m of my siblings’ money and ₦1.1m of my own savings. ₦3m gone in three months. I thought they were joking. I even accused them of trying to scam me until they printed out my account statement and showed me transfers from my bank app to my daughter’s account number.
I started shaking immediately. I didn’t even have a bank app. I called my daughter, and when she heard I was in the bank, she ended the call and refused to pick up my calls. It took two weeks for her elder siblings to trace her in school. When they eventually found her, she confessed that she’d put the bank app with my details on my phone. It wasn’t the first time she stole from me. Wherever she was at home, she’d transfer to herself and delete the alert from my phone.
When she decided to “go big,” she totally removed SMS alerts and took all the money. When we asked her why, she claimed she was under a spell. Later, she confessed that her boyfriend needed a loan for his business and that he’d pay it back. It’s been over a year, and till today, we haven’t seen the boyfriend anywhere. It’s as if he disappeared. My daughter claims she doesn’t know where he is, but I don’t believe her. Her siblings want me to arrest her so the police can make her confess, but what if she gets harmed? She’s still my daughter.
I was heartbroken and sick for weeks after finding out — I’m still heartbroken — but I can’t throw my child away. It really pained me, and I still cry when I think about it. I can’t believe she could do that to me. My other children repaid the ₦2m debt to my siblings, but my relationship with my daughter isn’t the same anymore. I keep wondering where I went wrong in training her.
“My friend sold me stolen iPhones” — Ayo*, 27
My friend is a phone and gadget vendor at Computer Village, Ikeja, and I’ve trusted him for all my gadget needs for over six years. Sometimes, I didn’t even visit his store physically. I’d just tell him what I needed, send the money and have him deliver the item to me.
In February, a colleague wanted to buy UK-used iPhones for himself and his wife, and I convinced him to let me buy them from my friend. I bragged so much about my friend and claimed he was the only trustworthy person in Computer Village.
The phones cost ₦1.6m, and my colleague sent part of the money through me. This happened because my colleague had transfer limit issues after paying ₦1m, and I helped him pay the ₦600k balance. He repaid me the next day. I helped deliver the phones, and everyone was happy. My friend even gave me ₦50k to appreciate me bringing him business.
Less than a month later, wahala started. Apparently, my friend sold them stolen phones, and the owners tracked them down to my colleague. The police picked him up, and when they couldn’t find the seller (my friend), they picked me up too. They decided that since I was involved in the payment transaction, I must’ve planned it with my friend to sell stolen phones.
I narrowly escaped prison by settling the police with ₦250k and agreeing to repay my colleague his ₦1.6m by paying in instalments over one year. I’ve paid almost half of the money and still have a long way to go. I’m still trying to trace my friend, but other vendors in his area said he also scammed some other people, and they suspect he did that to japa.
I never imagined he’d do something like this to me. This is someone I once sent ₦2.5m for my laptop, and he sent it, all without me stepping out of my house. We’ve done bigger deals than ₦1.6m, and I trusted him for over six years. I guess you can’t completely know someone.
“I lost ₦1m to an investment that my brother convinced me to join” — Fred*, 33
In 2017, I had a windfall after my mum sold my late father’s house and shared the money with me, my siblings, and a few family members. My share of the money was ₦1.5m, and I wanted to invest it somewhere so I wouldn’t spend it anyhow.
I confided in my immediate elder brother, and he sold me dreams of a crypto project he was working on with a friend. I didn’t really understand the technicalities, but I trusted my brother. He claimed I’d get 20% interest monthly, even more if I kept the interest in the crypto and let my money compound.
So, I gave him ₦1m to invest in his project. He shared updates for the first two months and told me my money was growing. But six months later, he said the project crashed. I almost went mad, but I had no reason to doubt my brother. He was even hospitalised during that period because he fainted after claiming he also lost almost ₦5m.
Years passed, and I pushed the incident to the back of my mind. Then, in 2023, my brother jokingly admitted to lying about the crash. The revelation came out because we were laughing over our experiences with bad investments one day, and he talked about buying acres of land from a scammer in 2017. When I pointed out that it was the same year as the “crypto crash”, he admitted that the crypto didn’t crash; he’d just taken my money to “stabilise” because he’d lost so much from the bad land purchase.
I was so angry to hear that, and the whole thing turned into a huge fight. I didn’t talk to him for almost two years until my mum threatened to kill herself if we didn’t settle our fight. We’re on limited talking terms now, but I can’t truly forgive my brother for what he did.
“My ex-bestfriend lied that her mum needed money for surgery” — Patricia*, 28
Prior to 2023, Joy* and I had been best friends since university, and we shared everything. There was nothing we didn’t know about each other — or so I thought.
In 2023, Joy came to me and begged me for ₦600k, claiming that her mum urgently needed it for eye surgery. I knew her mum had eye problems and the doctor had recommended surgery, but I didn’t know her mum had agreed to it. I was earning just a little over ₦150k/month from my social media management job at the time and had only ₦80k in savings, but I was ready to borrow money to help my friend.
Joy had come through for me multiple times when we were in uni, and we’d had reasons to lend each other money over the years. It wasn’t strange for her to come to me with a money need. So, I borrowed ₦600k from my bank and gave it to her.
After I gave her the money, I kept asking Joy when the surgery would happen, but she kept giving me excuses. At some point, she was like, “Is it because you borrowed me money that you’re following up like this? Don’t worry, I’ll find your money.” I ended up apologising, insisting I didn’t mean it that way. Around that same period, Joy got a new iPhone. She claimed it was a gift from a sugar daddy who wanted to date her. I even encouraged her to return the phone if she didn’t want anything to do with the man. I didn’t know it was my money she used to buy the phone.
I only realised the truth three months later when Joy’s mum called me because she couldn’t reach Joy. After promising to make sure Joy called her, I asked if she’d finally gotten a date for eye surgery. The woman was like, “Which surgery? I told you people I’m not doing surgery.”
When I confronted Joy, she tried to deny it until I threatened to tell her mum about it. Then she started begging me, claiming she really needed the phone for content and that she’d pay me back. I wasn’t ready for long stories. I seized the phone, and that’s how our friendship ended. Good riddance.
“I funded my boyfriend’s ghost business for months” — Princess*, 38
Kunle* and I dated for seven months in 2019, and from month one, he was carrying me along and giving me updates about his furniture import business. He even showed me documents and transactions. Foolishly, I thought, “Finally, here’s a man serious about business and sees a future with us.” That guy really put in effort to make his business look legit. I already had visions of us becoming a power couple.
So, when he told me he had issues with customs at the border four months into the relationship, I was only too ready to help. I “borrowed” him ₦550k to settle customs. That’s how the billing started; ₦200k here, ₦800k there. The funny thing is that he was paying me back, so I missed the red flags. His strategy was to pay me back the small amounts, so I’d trust him enough to give larger amounts when he asked.
When he finally ghosted me at the seven-month mark, he took my ₦2.2m along. Of course, the business turned out to be fake. I tried to find him but gave up after a few months. This will sound funny, but it wasn’t even the money that pained me; it was my pride. I always took pride in being street-smart, but one man used old tactics to scam me. I couldn’t even tell anyone.
*We’ve changed the subjects’ names for anonymity, and their responses have been slightly edited for clarity and grammar.
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