SpiderWeb: A Story of Deceit and Deception

𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐖𝐄𝐁 🕷️

PART 1:Trouble in a Perfumed Package

“The moment Ade saw her, something stirred, no, something throbbed. Not in his body first, but in his soul. That kind of warning that heaven sends just before a man walks into a storm smiling.”

Angela.

She wasn’t just beautiful; she was sculpted elegance. The kind of woman who turned heads in boardrooms without trying. Tall, confident, and graceful in motion, her presence demanded attention, not just from men but even from the women who envied her quiet command.

Ade didn’t need this test. Not now. Not her.

As a mid-level manager with eyes on promotion, Ade had done well for himself. He was a committed Christian, a respected worker in church, and the go-to guy for reliable results at work. Many whispered that he was pastoral material, the type to lead men in prayer and purpose. His diligence wasn’t just professional; it was spiritual.

But that changed when Angela became his direct boss.

Angela wasn’t just a woman of power. She was a woman in pain. Her husband had long abandoned fidelity, sleeping with almost every skirt in his office. Yet, she still wore her ring and a plastic smile that made her employees think she had it all.

Ade tried to keep it professional. Tried.

Back at home, Folake, his wife, had become unrecognizable.

Gone was the vibrant, captivating woman Ade had pursued with conviction and joy, the woman who once lit up rooms with her presence and drew admiration without trying. She had carried herself with elegance and spiritual fervor, always eager to serve, always ready with a scripture, a smile, or a spark of encouragement. Her words dripped with passion for the things of God, and her wardrobe whispered class, modesty, and allure in perfect harmony. She had been a force: graceful, confident, and deeply attractive.

Ade used to watch her walk into a room and feel like he had won the lottery of life and love.

But after marriage, the transformation was both immediate and bewildering.

Almost overnight, Folake resigned from her high-powered role as a managing partner in a real estate firm, without warning, without discussion. The woman who once commanded boardrooms now commanded a remote control, lying on the couch in oversized pajamas and headscarves that hadn’t seen the laundry in days. The home that once smelled of scented candles and fresh cooking now reeked of stale neglect and half-washed dishes.

And their bedroom?

Silent. Cold. Lifeless.

Folake had become a ghost of her former self, physically present, emotionally absent, spiritually numb.

Ade, ever the dutiful husband and public figure, masked the growing void. He smiled at church. He laughed at meetings. He defended her. “She’s just tired… adjusting… going through something,” he’d say, over and over, as though saying it would make it true.

But deep down, the silence was deafening. The disconnect, suffocating.

His body still burned with passion, but Folake had become a stranger. A stranger he couldn’t reach. A wife he couldn’t recognize. He was married, but living single.

So, Ade did what many men do when they don’t want to fall.

He drowned himself in busyness, late hours at the office, endless ministry activities, and church programs that kept him from confronting the ache in his soul.

But even the altar cannot silence a man’s unmet hunger forever.

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The night it happened didn’t start as sin. Just a late night in the office. Just two tired souls eating pizza and talking about broken homes. Then, Angela wept. And Ade, the good Christian, comforted her.

Then her perfume brushed his senses, soft, floral, and hauntingly familiar. It wasn’t just fragrance, it was presence. The kind that lingered long after the moment had passed. Ade’s breathing slowed. His heart pounded, not from lust at first, but from the ache of proximity.

Then her body leaned into his. Not deliberately. Not seductively. Just enough to close the space where restraint usually lives. Her head rested on his shoulder, trembling slightly from the emotions she had just poured out. He felt it, the vulnerability, the loneliness, the quiet hunger beneath the surface.

He shifted slightly, trying to adjust. To retreat.

But then, it happened.

Something hard and real pressed against her thigh.

He tensed. She stilled.

The air changed.

The room went silent, thick with suggestion.

They didn’t speak. They didn’t need to.

It was the kind of silence that wraps itself around shame before shame even arrives. The kind of silence that asks, Are we really about to do this?

Angela inhaled sharply but didn’t move.

Ade could have stepped back.

He could have said, I’m sorry.

He could have run.

But he didn’t.

Instead, his hand cupped the small of her back.

Her eyes searched his, pleading, confused, and afraid.

But not resistant.

And neither of them stopped it.

What began as comfort became consent.
What began as shared pain became shared sin.

By the time their minds caught up with their bodies, it was too late.
Clothes were scattered across the office floor like broken promises.

And when it was over, there were no words.
Just the echo of their breathing, and a silence loud enough to fill a stadium.

Ade walked into his house the next morning. His wife was sprawled on the bed, snoring lightly. He looked at her and thought, “Should I tell her?” But some confessions have explosive consequences.

Next week: “The Seed and the Secret” – A delayed period, a desperate prayer, and a decision that will shake three lives forever.

🕸️ SPIDERWEB

PART 2: The Seed and the Secret

“It was supposed to be a one-time mistake. A night wrapped in guilt and perfume. But sin, like a spiderweb, doesn’t just trap, it tangles. And now, something was growing in Angela’s womb,  and in Ade’s conscience.”

Angela stared at the test strip in her hand.
Two lines. Bold. Clear. Unmistakable.

Pregnant.

She sat motionless in her bathroom, a thousand thoughts racing through her mind like untamed horses. She had prayed for this moment. For years. She had fasted. Sowed seeds. Gone from one anointed minister to another, hoping for a prophetic word, a spark of hope.

Now, the miracle had come, but from a man who wasn’t her husband.

Ade.

Her subordinate. Her colleague. Her comforter. Her mistake.

Tears rolled down her cheeks, not out of regret, but out of conflict. How could something so wrong produce the very thing she’d begged God for? Was this God’s answer in disguise, or the devil’s bait wrapped in a baby?

She knew her husband, Francis, couldn’t handle the truth. Their marriage was already fragile. A scandal like this would snap it completely. And besides, Francis had his own secrets. Women. Multiple. Over the years. And somehow, he never got caught. Maybe this was just her own private justice. Her own compensation.

She picked up her phone, typed Ade’s number, then paused.
What would she say?
“Hi Ade, remember that night of weakness? Well, congratulations, you’re going to be a father?”

No. She couldn’t tell him. He didn’t need to know. She would keep the baby. Raise the child as her husband’s. This would be her redemption. Her secret answer to prayer.

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Meanwhile, Ade couldn’t sleep. Days had passed since that night, but the guilt stayed thick in his throat. He couldn’t pray. Couldn’t worship. His wife barely noticed; she was too busy with her TV shows and gossip calls.

He kept asking himself the same question over and over:
What if something came out of that night? What if she gets pregnant?
But each time, he shoved the thought away. Angela would have told him,  wouldn’t she?

Work had resumed. They passed each other in the office like nothing happened. Professional. Polite. Pretending.

But something was different in Angela’s eyes. A softness. A secret.

And then came the email:

Subject: Congratulations, Team
From: Angela B.
“Thanks to your brilliant work on the NileTech Proposal, we landed the project. Ade, your input was critical. Thank you again. I’ll be stepping aside from work for a while, doctor’s recommendation. But I’ll be available via email until my maternity leave begins in full.”

Maternity?

Ade’s heart stopped. A cold sweat covered his back.

Could it be?

Next week on Spiderweb – Part 3: “Echoes of the Forbidden”: A pastor’s calling stirs while a buried sin grows in secret. But what happens when destiny starts pulling everyone toward an intersection they never saw coming?

🕸️ SPIDERWEB

PART 3: Echoes of the Forbidden

“When sin is planted in secret, it grows in silence,  but its roots dig deep, and its echoes last longer than the night it was born in. Ade thought it was over. But heaven wasn’t done whispering.”

Ade sat in church that Sunday, hands lifted, lips moving, but his mind was elsewhere. Worship soared, people danced, but inside him, a storm brewed, quiet, steady, unrelenting.

Angela was pregnant. The email made it official.

He hadn’t asked questions. He couldn’t. What would he even say? He simply congratulated her in passing like every other staff member. But when she replied with a soft, knowing smile and a distant nod, Ade knew.
That child is mine.

It had been weeks since their mistake. Angela was glowing. Not just from pregnancy, she carried herself with a peace that Ade didn’t understand. Meanwhile, he was unraveling.

Every sermon pierced deeper. Every scripture hit too close.

Then it happened.

Pastor Adebayo, their church’s senior pastor, called Ade after service.

“I’ve been watching you, son,” the pastor said with a kind smile. “God has placed a call on your life. You can’t run from it forever. It’s time to step out. We want you to start preparing for the associate pastor’s role. You have the heart of a shepherd.”

Ade froze.
A shepherd? Now?
With this guilt rotting his soul?

He forced a smile. “Thank you, sir. I’ll pray about it.”

How do you lead people to the altar when you’ve never laid your own sins on it?

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At home, his wife barely reacted to the news.

“That’s good,” she said, eyes on the screen. “God’s using you.”

Then she turned up the volume on her show.

Ade stared at her. Same oversized nightgown. Same stale smell of burnt stew and laziness. She used to be fire. Now she was just furniture in his life, silent, present, and cold.

He wanted to talk. To confess. But what would he say? That while she was sleeping through life, he was sleeping with someone else?

No. That would destroy everything.

So he did what most men do.

He buried it.

He knelt by the bed that night, whispered a half-hearted prayer, and told God, “Just give me a second chance. I’ll never fall again.”

And in heaven, silence answered.

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Meanwhile, across the city, Angela sat in her living room. Her hands rested on her growing belly.

She had made peace with her choice. She wouldn’t tell Ade. And she wouldn’t ruin her husband, Francis.

She would carry this child and protect the illusion her life had become.

But one question refused to die.

What happens when this child starts to look like his father?

Next week on Spiderweb – Part 4: “Names and Nightmares” – As Angela prepares to welcome her ‘miracle,’ Francis, her husband, begins to notice the growing distance and the strange dreams that leave him sweating in the night. Something is unraveling,  and it’s closer than they both realize.

🕸️ SPIDERWEB

PART 4: Names and Nightmares

“Secrets don’t sleep. They toss and turn in the womb of time, waiting for the moment they can scream their names into the silence. Angela gave the baby a name,  but in the spirit, another name was being whispered, one only the guilty could hear.”

The hospital room was quiet, soft jazz playing in the background. Angela lay on the bed, drenched in sweat but smiling, triumphant. Nine months of hidden shame had finally produced a beautiful baby girl.

“Christiana,” she whispered.

Her husband, Francis, kissed her forehead. “Our miracle baby.”

But Angela flinched at his words. Our.

He hadn’t noticed. He didn’t know. He was crying tears of joy over a child that didn’t carry his blood.

“Christiana” meant follower of Christ. Angela had chosen it to reflect answered prayer. But deep down, she knew. This child would bring more than blessings. She would bring a reckoning.

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Francis had been a backslidden believer for years. Hurt by the church. Mocked for being childless. Abandoned by pastors who once laid hands on him but didn’t wait long enough to see if fire would fall. So he left the fold. Walked back into the world that never judged, never asked questions. The world that embraced, covered, and accepted, no eyebrows raised. Misery loves company!

But something stirred when Christiana arrived.

He started praying again, awkward, broken prayers. He picked up his Bible and tried to read, though the words felt foreign. But the dreams,  they came uninvited.

Dreams of fire.
Dreams of a man preaching in white robes with a face that looked hauntingly familiar.
And in the dream, someone always whispered: “He has what you’ve been looking for.”

Francis began to have questions. Questions that had no words. Questions his soul couldn’t shake.

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Meanwhile, Ade’s life was moving upward, publicly.

He was now an associate pastor. Invitations began pouring in. His messages were sharp; his altar calls powerful. People wept when he spoke. His videos went viral online. Souls were saved.

But his conscience was still chained to a single night.

Christiana.

Angela hadn’t said anything to him, but he’d seen a photo, just once, on a mutual friend’s phone. A baby dedication. Angela in white. Her husband by her side. And the child.

Ade dropped the phone when he saw it.

The eyes. The shape of the mouth. The unmistakable curve of his own mother’s nose. That baby was his.

His knees buckled, and his assistant had to help him up.

“You okay, Pastor?” they asked.

He smiled, weakly. “Just dizzy.”

But it wasn’t dizziness. It was guilt. Guilt that had grown legs and was now crawling toward the surface.

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That night, Angela stood over Christiana’s crib. She was fast asleep.

She looked at her daughter and whispered, “You must never know. Not even when you’re old enough to ask. This secret dies with me.”

But as she turned to leave, she saw her husband standing at the doorway.

“Who must never know what?” Francis asked quietly.

Angela’s blood ran cold.

Next week on Spiderweb – Part 5: “Old Friends, New Fears” – A surprise reunion throws Ade and Francis back into each other’s lives. But one of them carries a secret, and the other,  is beginning to suspect.

🕸️ SPIDERWEB

PART 5: Old Friends, New Fears

“Some reunions are heaven’s gifts. Others are time bombs dressed in smiles. When Francis and Ade met again, the past came running,  but so did the truth, limping quietly behind.”

Francis couldn’t sleep. Since overhearing Angela whisper those six haunting words, “You must never know the truth,” his soul had been on edge.

He didn’t ask her to explain. Not immediately. He just walked away that night, heart pounding, mind racing.

The next morning, while Angela was in the shower, he stared at little Christiana in his crib. The girl was beautiful. Perfect. But there was something off. Something familiar.

He turned away and muttered under his breath, “God, if there’s something I need to know,  show me.”

That same afternoon, while flipping through channels, he stumbled on a Christian TV station. A preacher was mid-sermon. Dynamic, fiery, captivating.

Francis froze.

The face. The voice. The passion.

“Ade?” he whispered.

The same Ade from university. His closest friend, his spiritual brother. The one who led Bible Study on Wednesdays and shared bread and prayers with him when things were tough.

They’d lost touch years ago, after school. Life had taken them in different directions. Francis had fallen. Ade had risen.

But now, there he was. On national TV. Preaching like a man set on fire from heaven.

Francis turned to Angela, who had just walked into the room. “Angela, come look at this.”

She looked at the screen. The remote nearly slipped from her hand.

She forced a smile. “Oh,  that’s Pastor Ade, right? He’s quite popular these days.”

Francis didn’t notice her discomfort. “That man,  He’s the real deal. He’s the only person I believe still truly hears from God. I need to find him.”

Angela’s stomach twisted.

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Two weeks later, their paths crossed again, by divine setup.

Ade had been invited to speak at a city-wide leadership conference organized by a group of business professionals. The moment he stepped into the banquet hall, he spotted him, Francis.

Their eyes met.

Time slowed.

And then, recognition.

“Francis?” Ade asked, voice low with disbelief.

“Ade!!!” Francis grinned, arms wide. “My God! It’s really you?”

They hugged like long-lost brothers.

Angela stood in the corner, watching them. Cold sweat forming beneath her silk blouse. Her worst nightmare had just come true.

Old friends had found each other again.

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Later that evening, they sat together, catching up over drinks at the hotel lounge. The conversation flowed easily, until Francis dropped the bomb.

“You know what’s funny?” Francis said, smiling. “My wife knows you.”

Ade choked slightly on his water. “She does?”

“Yeah,” Francis nodded. “Angela. She said you work in the same industry. Small world, right?”

Ade smiled tightly. “Yeah,  small world.”

Inside, his heart was cracking open.

Angela. Francis. Married.

That meant Christiana,  Christiana was his daughter, being raised by his best friend.

Ade excused himself to the restroom, locked the door, and sank to his knees.

“O God,  what is this?”

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Back at home, Angela sat staring into nothing, clutching her chest.

She had prayed the past would stay buried.

But now, it was walking, talking, and sitting beside her husband.

Next week on Spiderweb – Part 6: “The Call and the Collapse” – When Francis invites Ade to dinner, the past, present, and future walk into one room. But the more Ade speaks truth, the more Francis’s world starts to crumble.

🕸️ SPIDERWEB

PART 6: The Call and the Collapse

“Sometimes, God answers prayers by sending a man. But what if the man is carrying the very storm you’ve been trying to escape? Francis invited Ade over for dinner,  and with one knock on the door, the web began to shake.”

The phone rang at 7:32 p.m.

“Ade, it’s Francis!”
“Hey, bro,” Ade answered, voice calm but heart racing.
“Listen,” Francis continued, “Angela and I were just talking about you. We’d love to host you for dinner. Nothing fancy, just old friends catching up.”

Ade hesitated.
Dinner? With them?
The woman with whom he had sinned. The friend he had betrayed. And the child he had secretly fathered?

“I’ll check my schedule,” he said.
But Francis laughed. “Don’t give me that preacher’s excuse. Sunday evening. 6 p.m. We’ll be waiting.”

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Angela nearly dropped her wineglass when Francis told her.

“You what?” she asked, voice trembling.
“I invited Ade,” he said, smiling. “Babe, I think God’s reconnecting us. I feel alive again. Like something is healing.”

Angela forced a smile. “Of course. That’s,  lovely.”

She wanted to scream. But she said nothing.

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Sunday came.

Ade stood outside the house, staring at the door for almost five minutes before ringing the bell.

Angela opened it.

They both froze. Just for a second. A second too long.

“Pastor Ade!” she said, voice slightly too cheerful. “Welcome.”

He gave a stiff nod. “Thank you,  Angela.”

Francis came from the kitchen, arms wide. “My man!”

They hugged, and for a brief moment, Ade wished time would reverse. Before the fall. Before the guilt. Before Christiana.

Dinner was pleasant, until it wasn’t.

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Over grilled chicken and rice, Francis turned to Ade. “You know, I backslid years ago. Church folks mocked us for not having kids. Angela stopped going. I just stopped believing.”

Ade nodded slowly.

“But then,  Christiana came,” Francis continued, eyes moist. “And now you,  showing up again. It feels like God is giving me a second chance.”

Angela coughed.

“And you know what’s crazy?” Francis added. “Sometimes I look at Christiana and I swear,  she looks like you.”

The room went quiet.

Angela dropped her fork. Ade’s hand clenched.

Francis chuckled. “I mean, not that I’m saying anything! It’s just,  maybe God gave us a child who looks like the man that helped lead me to Christ. Funny, right?”

No one laughed.

Angela got up. “Excuse me,” she said, disappearing into the kitchen.

Francis looked puzzled. “She’s been acting strange lately.”

Ade stared at his plate. “Maybe she has  a lot on her mind.”

Francis leaned back. “I’m glad we’re friends again, Ade. You’re the only man I trust right now. And I want you to mentor Christiana when she’s older. You’re a man of integrity.”

Ade nearly choked on his breath.

Integrity.

If only Francis knew.

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As Ade left that night, he paused by Christiana’s room. The girl was asleep, clutching a pink teddy bear.

She looked peaceful. Innocent.

And completely unaware of the chaos surrounding her birth.

Ade whispered a prayer: “God, please,  don’t let her suffer for our mistake.”

Behind him, Angela stood quietly, tears in her eyes.

Because she knew,  the storm was coming.

Next week on Spiderweb – Part 7: “Of Sons and Secrets” – Years pass. Christiana grows into a woman. So does another child, Ade’s son, Kolade. But when their paths cross and something forbidden happens again, the spiderweb rips open.

🕸️ SPIDERWEB

PART 7: Of Sons and Secrets

“Some legacies are carried in names. Others are carried in shame. When Christiana fainted at church that morning, nobody imagined that the thread tying her to the altar went far deeper than blood.”

The service had been intense.

It was Youth Sunday, and the auditorium was alive with drums, dance, and declarations. Ade sat on the front row, proud as ever. His son Kolade had just finished leading worship with such fire that several teens were moved to tears.

Angela had also come that morning. Francis had insisted they start worshipping at Ade’s church. Even though she resisted, Francis insisted. “If there’s anyone qualified to be my spiritual head, it is Ade,” he said.

She sat at the far end with Christiana by her side, her polished poise masking the storm that had been brewing beneath her skin for weeks.

Halfway through the offering, it happened.

A soft thud.

A scream.

Then chaos.

Christiana had slumped.

Ushers rushed in. Water was sprinkled. Angela stood frozen for a split second before springing into action.

They carried her into the church office. Someone called an ambulance. Ade quickly excused himself from the altar and followed.

In the swirl of confusion, Angela locked eyes with Ade,  just briefly.

And in that instant, something passed between them: fear.

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At the hospital, the doctors took Christiana in for evaluation. Angela paced the hallway like a woman walking the edge of a cliff.

Kolade arrived a few minutes later, visibly shaken.

“What happened?” he asked. “Is she okay?”

Angela looked at him strangely. “Why are you here?”

He hesitated. “I,  I was at church. I saw everything.”

She wanted to say more,  but the doctor stepped out before she could.

“She’ll be fine,” he said. “But she’s under a bit of physical and emotional strain. You may want to run a few more tests.”

Angela frowned. “What kind of tests?”

The doctor lowered his voice. “You might want to talk in private.”

She followed him.

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That night, Angela sat by Christiana’s bedside, watching her sleep.

She had been strong all her life,  the CEO of a multinational firm, feared in boardrooms, respected by nations. But right now, she was just a trembling mother.

Questions spun in her head like a wheel on fire:

What was Christiana hiding? Why had she fainted? Why was she suddenly withdrawn these past few weeks?

And most importantly,

Who had touched her daughter?

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Back at home, Ade sat quietly in his study. He hadn’t been able to shake the image of Christiana collapsing. Something about the moment unsettled him,  deeply.

Kolade had been acting strangely too,  distant, nervous, unusually quiet.

Ade opened his Bible, trying to pray.

But his mind kept drifting to one thing: cycles.

Things left unconfessed,  often return through the back door.

And this time, they weren’t knocking.

They were already in the house.

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Next week on Spiderweb – Part 8: “Echoes of the Night” – A routine hospital report lands in the wrong hands. Suspicion rises, and suddenly, the question on everyone’s lips is: Who is Christiana’s baby daddy? One name keeps coming up,  but no one dares to say it.

🕸️ SPIDERWEB

PART 8: Echoes of the Night

“Secrets are never truly buried. They echo, through decisions, through silence, through blood. And when they finally scream, they don’t knock. They tear down the door.”

Angela stood in front of the bathroom mirror, gripping the edge of the sink. The hospital report lay on the marble counter; its words clear and damning.

Positive. Eight weeks. Pregnant.

Christiana hadn’t said a word since coming home from the hospital. And Angela, torn between rage and denial, hadn’t pressed further.

But now, it was official.

Her daughter was pregnant.

The question still haunted her like a shadow that wouldn’t retreat: who?

She thought about her inner circle ,  the people close enough to Christiana. Only a few names came to mind. But one name lingered too long in her thoughts.

One name she dared not say aloud.

Kolade.

No. She shook her head violently. It can’t be him.

She’d seen how Christiana’s eyes lit up when he came around,  how she blushed. But no, Angela couldn’t bring herself to believe that the son of the man she once sinned with could now have crossed a line with her daughter, their daughter!

Not him.

Not again.

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At Ade’s house, things weren’t calm either.

Kolade had locked himself in his room for hours. He barely spoke during dinner. He barely touched his food.

Ade’s wife, unusually alert that evening, commented, “Is he okay?”

“He’s probably tired,” Ade replied quickly.

But in his heart, he knew the look in his son’s eyes.

It was the same look he had carried the morning after that fateful night with Angela: guilt.

And it wasn’t just suspicion anymore. It was a father’s knowing. A man’s dread. A pastor’s looming judgment.

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Meanwhile, across town, Francis sat in his home office, going through paperwork, emails, and bills, until something caught his eye.

An envelope.

It had no address, no markings. Just a folded sheet of hospital paper Christiana had accidentally left in a stack of her textbooks.

Francis opened it casually.

Then froze.

Pregnancy report.

Christiana’s name.

His hands trembled.

He stood up, calling out, “Angela! Angela!”

She came running. “What is it?”

He held the paper up. “What! Is! This?!”

Angela’s heart stopped.

“I, I was going to tell you,” she stammered.

He looked at her, eyes blazing. “Tell me what? That our daughter is pregnant?”

Angela looked down, then whispered, “I just found out.”

Francis paced. “How long has this been going on? Who is the boy?”

Angela didn’t answer.

“Tell me who did this to my daughter, Angela!”

Angela blinked back tears.

Because even though she hadn’t confirmed it,  her soul already knew.

But how could she say it?

Angela blinked back tears.

Because even though she hadn’t confirmed it,  her soul already knew the weight of the secret.

But how could she say it?

How could she tell her husband the truth that would shatter everything they’ve built?

No.

She couldn’t say it.

Not yet.

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In his own room, Kolade stared at his phone. Christiana had texted hours ago: We need to talk. Please.

He hadn’t replied.

He didn’t know what to say.

Did his father suspect?

Would Christiana tell her mum?

And if this got out,

Would his life ever recover?

Next week on Spiderweb – Part 9: “The Things We Bury” – Francis starts digging. And the deeper he digs, the closer he gets to the truth, one that could destroy everything he believes about love, loyalty, and God.

🕸️ SPIDERWEB

PART 9: The Things We Bury

“Truth is not a corpse you can bury in silence. It grows, roots reaching through the soil of your soul, cracking every lie you thought could hold it down.”

Francis hadn’t slept well in days.

The pregnancy revelation had shaken him to his core, but what haunted him more was the silence that followed.

Angela had said nothing more.

Christiana had locked herself in her room, too ashamed to speak.

And the name of the boy responsible remained a mystery, one that was slowly turning his heart into stone.

He began his own investigation, asking subtle questions, checking his daughter’s social media activity, looking at phone records. All signs led to one person, but the idea felt so absurd, so… twisted, that he dared not speak it aloud.

“Kolade?” he whispered one evening to himself. “It can’t be him…”

The thought alone sent bile rising to his throat.

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Meanwhile, Ade sat in his study, staring at the blinking cursor on his sermon notes. The message was titled: “Purity in a Polluted World.”

He laughed bitterly.

He knew his son was hiding something. He had tried to probe gently, but Kolade always deflected, saying he was tired or busy. There was a weight in his eyes, a look Ade recognized from the mirror every morning.

The guilt. The fear. The silent scream of a man on the edge of exposure.

He closed his laptop and whispered, “Oh Lord, not my son.”

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Angela sat in her car after work, hands clenched tightly around the steering wheel. She had avoided Christiana for days, afraid of what a real conversation would reveal.

She didn’t want her suspicion to be true.

She didn’t want to believe that life could be so cruelly cyclical.

But the dread in her chest grew heavier by the day. She had been to this crossroads before, one reckless night, one concealed mistake, one lie that metastasized into her present life.

Now it was her daughter.

And possibly… his son.

The thought made her stomach twist.

Her mind drifted to Francis.

He had been watching that Ade on TV. The same man who had inspired him to return to the faith. The same man he wanted to invite over for dinner again.

Angela couldn’t bear the thought.

She knew they were inches away from a collision course.

A dinner that could unearth everything.

A conversation that would detonate the minefield they’d been tiptoeing through for years.

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That evening, Francis spoke.

“I’m going to call Pastor Ade,” he said over dinner. “I want to invite him here. I think it’s time we connected more deeply.”

Angela’s spoon clattered in her bowl.

Her mouth went dry.

Her worst fear had just knocked at the door.

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Next week on Spiderweb – Part 10: “Dinner with a Ghost” – One table, four lives, and a silence that speaks louder than words. The past is about to pull up a chair.

🕸️ SPIDERWEB

PART 10: Dinner with a Ghost

“Some meals nourish. Others unravel destinies. And when the past shows up at the table wearing a smile, the taste of truth can be bitter.”

The table was set like something out of a lifestyle magazine, linen napkins, fine cutlery, soft jazz playing in the background.

Angela had outdone herself.

Not because she wanted to impress.

But because she needed something to control.

The rest of her life was spinning off its hinges.

Tonight’s dinner was Francis’ idea, his attempt at reconnecting with someone he admired deeply.

Pastor Ade.

Angela had prayed (if it could be called that) for a cancellation. A conflict. A delay. Anything.

But the man of God had accepted the invitation warmly.

“I’ve been meaning to reconnect,” he said over the phone. “God works in seasons.”

Angela almost laughed. If only he knew.

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Francis was unusually excited. He had ironed his shirt, sprayed on his favorite cologne, and spoken about Ade all evening.

“I remember back in school,” he said to Angela, “Ade was always different. Even back then, I could tell something was on his life. You know I lost touch with him after my mum died. Seeing him again, feels like divine timing.”

Angela only nodded, stirring the soup.

Divine?

Or demonic?

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Ade arrived promptly at 6:45 p.m.

Kolade was with him.

When Angela opened the door, the air seemed to crack.

There he stood, still dignified, still calm, still that gentle aura.

Her throat tightened.

“Pastor Ade,” she said, offering a tight smile.

“Angela. Good to see you again,” he replied, voice low.

They shook hands briefly. Nothing in his face gave away the storm beneath.

But she felt it in the weight of his gaze.

Kolade greeted her respectfully, his eyes brushing past hers awkwardly before landing on Christiana, who was coming down the stairs.

Their eyes locked.

She froze.

He looked away.

Angela didn’t miss it.

Neither did Francis.

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Dinner began with small talk.

Memories of university. Life in ministry. God’s faithfulness.

But the atmosphere was thick, like smoke that hadn’t yet turned into fire.

Then Francis leaned back in his chair, smiling as he spoke.

“You know, Ade, I’ve always said you were the only preacher I still trust. It’s funny, because after all the church drama, I’d stopped believing any of it. But seeing you on TV… hearing your words… I thought to myself: If anyone still walks with God, it’s this man.”

Angela lowered her fork.

Ade coughed lightly.

Kolade shifted in his seat.

Silence swelled.

Then Christiana excused herself and rushed out.

Angela stood to follow, but Francis stopped her. “Let her go. She’s been moody lately.”

Kolade cleared his throat.

“I think I need to step out too.”

He followed after Christiana.

Angela’s hands were trembling under the table.

Francis noticed.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine,” she lied.

But the truth was rising like floodwater.

Because the ghosts weren’t just in the past anymore.

They were in her home.

Eating her food.

Sitting at her table.

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Next week on Spiderweb –  PART 11: “Nothing Hidden” – Every web has a center. Every secret has a voice. The night ends with confessions, confrontations, and a truth that will change all of them forever.

🕸️ SPIDERWEB

PART 11: Nothing Hidden

“Every web, no matter how intricately spun, trembles when truth steps in. And when the spider is patient enough, she doesn’t chase the prey. She just waits… for everyone to walk right into the center.”

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The dinner table was deathly quiet.

Francis’ compliments had drifted off into silence.

Angela’s fingers fidgeted with the napkin on her lap.

Ade was trying to breathe normally, but the walls were closing in.

Upstairs, Christiana sobbed behind a locked bathroom door.

Outside, Kolade stood with his hands on his head, pacing, gasping for air, whispering prayers he didn’t believe would work.

And then,

“CHRISTIANA! KOLADE! Come back here. NOW!!”

Francis’ voice shattered the house like a hammer through glass.

It was the voice of a father who knew. Who didn’t have all the evidence, but had enough suspicion to spark a firestorm.

Angela froze.

Ade stiffened.

Footsteps thundered down the stairs. The teenagers returned like fugitives summoned for trial, eyes swollen, faces pale.

Francis pointed at Christiana. “Tell me. Who is the father of your baby?”

Her lips quivered. “I…”

Kolade held her hand. “It’s me.”

He said it barely above a whisper.

Then he straightened his back and said it again, louder.

“It’s me.”

Angela shut her eyes.

Francis stared at him for several seconds. Then his gaze shifted to Ade.

To his old friend.

His pastor.

His spiritual model.

Something broke in his expression, disbelief, betrayal, sorrow, twisting all at once.

“Your son?” Francis whispered. “YOUR son?!”

“Francis, I, ” Ade began.

“Your SON got my daughter pregnant?!” he bellowed.

“And you… you knew, didn’t you?!”

“No. I didn’t,” Ade said quickly, but his voice cracked under the weight of his own guilt.

Francis turned to Angela.

“You knew too,” he said bitterly.

Angela didn’t respond.

Francis stumbled back from the table, eyes wet, heart pounding. “How… how does this even happen?!”

Then, as if a switch flipped in his mind, he turned back to Ade.

His eyes narrowed.

And the pieces clicked into place.

His daughter. Her behavior. Angela’s anxiety. Kolade.

And… Ade.

That long-lost friend. The only preacher he trusted. The man who had encouraged his faith.

His voice was low now, shaking: “Tell me, Ade… what really happened between you and my wife?”

The room dropped into a vacuum of silence.

Angela gasped.

Ade looked like a man who had just walked into his own grave.

“Francis,” he whispered, “I, ”

Angela stood up, eyes blazing, voice trembling.

“Stop.”

But Francis would not.

“Don’t protect him now. Tell me the truth. Did you sleep with my wife?”

The silence was louder than any scream.

Ade’s shoulders slumped.

He bowed his head.

“Yes.”

Christiana burst into sobs.

Kolade’s jaw dropped. He stared at his father like he was a stranger. “You… what?”

Francis laughed.

But it was the kind of laugh that comes from a breaking mind.

He looked at Ade with disgust.

“You? The man I wanted to be like. The man I introduced to my wife and daughter. You are the reason I walked back into the church. And all this time, you were the rot I didn’t see?”

Angela whispered, “Francis, please…”

He turned to her, raw fury in his eyes. “You kept his baby, didn’t you? All this while… Christiana is his daughter and mine is the house of shame.”

Angela burst into tears.

Christiana stumbled backward. “Wait. What did you say?”

Angela covered her mouth.

Francis exploded. “YOU ARE THE RESULT OF THEIR SIN!”

Kolade’s eyes turned bloodshot. “You mean… my father… slept with…?”

He pointed at Angela.

He looked at Ade.

Then at Christiana.

“No. No. NO!”

He pushed the table so hard that it tipped over, plates crashing to the floor.

Ade tried to approach. “Kolade, please…”

“DON’T TOUCH ME!” he screamed. “You HYPOCRITE!”

He ran out of the house.

Christiana was frozen in her seat, pale as paper.

She whispered, “It wasn’t supposed to be like this…”

She got up and fled upstairs, clutching her belly.

Angela tried to run after her, but Francis grabbed her wrist. “You don’t get to run anymore.”

Ade, weeping now, dropped to his knees. “God… why? Why didn’t You stop me? Why didn’t You spare me this shame?”

No answer.

Just the shattered sound of five broken lives in one room.

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Upstairs, Christiana stood at her dresser.

Tears blurred her vision.

She held a bottle of pills in one hand, a glass of water in the other.

Her mind spun: They’re all liars. I was just a mistake. A scandal. A consequence.

She opened the bottle.

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Miles away, in a quiet part of town, Folake stood in front of her mirror.

Her face was radiant; lips curled into a knowing smirk.

She was dressed like royalty, flawless makeup, a designer dress, her hair wrapped in perfect waves.

Her fingers drummed on the vanity table slowly.

And in her eyes was something cold… calm… calculating.

She stared at her own reflection and whispered:

“Let the web unravel. Now they’ll know who really holds the thread.”

The spider had been watching all along.

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Next week: Part 12: A full recap of Spiderweb Season 1. Every thread. Every twist. Every trap. You won’t want to miss it.

#Spiderweb #Finale #TruthUnveiled #SpiderSeason2Loading 🕸️

🕸️ SPIDERWEB

PART 12: The Tangled Aftermath

#SpiderwebRecap #SeasonFinale #TruthRevealed

When a web finally tears, it doesn’t come apart slowly, it collapses all at once.

And so it was… when everything unraveled.

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💔 Christiana, sweet, fragile, confused, took the pills.
It was meant to end the shame, the noise, the whispers, the disappointment in her father’s eyes.
She slipped into a coma. The child within her could not hold on.
And just like that, two lives precariously endangered in one moment of despair.

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🔥 Kolade stormed out of the house, fists clenched, chest heaving, heart shattered.
The man he revered, the preacher he mimicked, the hero he bragged about… had become a stranger.
He hasn’t been seen since. His phone rings out. His location unknown.
He vanished, carrying rage, pain, and confusion with him.

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😡 Francis lost it.
His past wounds re-opened with violence.
“Fraud!” he yelled. “Deceiver! Snake in a collar!”
He vowed to expose Ade publicly. To make sure no one ever trusted him again.
“You’re a disgrace to the cross,” he said. “A wolf dressed in anointing.”

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🧠 Angela?
She laughed.
Not the laugh of joy or sarcasm, but the laugh of someone who had mentally fractured.
When she saw Christiana’s limp body, something inside her snapped.
She began pacing. Talking to herself. Smiling into space.
The CEO was gone. What remained was a broken woman, destroyed by the weight of unconfessed sin.

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💔 Ade sat in the ruins.
Tears streaming. Soul torn. Spirit dry.
Should he run to Francis and beg?
Should he stay by Angela and comfort her?
Should he search for Kolade?
Should he remain by Christiana’s bedside and intercede for her healing?

Or…

Should he resign from ministry completely?

Was it over?
Had he forfeited the call of God on his life?

The devil whispered: “You’re finished.”

He believed it, for a moment.

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👠 But miles away, sitting in serenity and poise, was Folake, Ade’s wife.
Clean. Calm. Elegant. Triumphant.

She had played her role perfectly.

Passive. Prayerless. Cold.

All part of the strategy.

You see, Folake was never sent to love Ade. She was planted, by darkness.

Long ago, when Ade was born, his mother received a powerful prophecy. A mighty man of God was coming. A reformer. A revivalist.

But in her excitement, she told a “friend.”

That friend was a gate. The words traveled. The enemy heard.

They tried. Oh, how they tried.

Nothing worked.

Until they sent Folake.

Not to attack, but to frustrate.

To suffocate his passion. Starve his soul. Make him feel unloved. Make him vulnerable.

Until… he found solace in Angela.

One night was all it took.

And now, the web had done its job.

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🕊️ Lessons From the Web

Dear reader,

Discretion is not weakness. It’s warfare.

When the Holy Spirit whispers, “Don’t go there,” obey.
When He nudges, “Don’t speak now,” hold your tongue.
When He warns, “That’s not your friend,” trust Him.

Because what you don’t control will eventually control you.

Every destiny is opposed. Every calling is monitored.
That’s why prayer is not optional; it is oxygen.
Discernment is not a gift for prophets only; it’s a survival tool for anyone with purpose.

And when you miss it?

Don’t hide.
Don’t spiral.
Don’t pretend.

Run to the Cross. Confess. Repent. Heal.

Find trusted believers. Speak. Weep. Restore.
There is redemption after failure, but only for those who don’t cover what should be uncovered.

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So… what next for Ade?

Is there life after shame?
Can a fallen man still rise?
Will purpose survive the ashes?

Watch out. Season 2 is coming.

The web may have collapsed,
but the spider is still spinning…

#Spiderweb #LessonsInFailure #DiscretionAndDestiny #RepentanceRestoration #Season2Loading 🕸️

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