And of course, not everyone believed Dayo's time was clean.

"Y'all are dumb as f***. He has never had such a close time. Why suddenly so fast?"

"Let them deceive themselves. We all know he's using."

"You people don't understand improvement in sports."

"Most athletes need months for milliseconds. How did he drop a FULL second?"

"He started swimming how long ago? Two months?"

"The score is not pure. They should check him very well."

"No way this is natural."

"Yup, I agree. I just pity Evan."

"Yeah, he should have been the one who qualified."

"Justice for Evan."

"Yeah, I hate that it was meant to be Evan and Alex that qualified, but Dayo just came into the picture."

"So much for fairness. This is rigged."

"We all know an investigation has to be held to check this sport."

"@drugagencies please investigate, there's something fishy going on inside."

"It's just time. The truth will come out."

But JD's fans were never going to stay quiet while people dragged their idol.

They immediately fired back:

"You all are delulu as hell if you think Dayo is using."

"Why are we revisiting this again?"

"Like, these haters never learn. This is Olympic Trials — of course they test before and after. Meaning he's clean."

"I feel explaining again is just a waste of strength and time."

"Yeah, I saw one idiot saying it takes time to see improvement, but what they fail to put into account is TALENT. The more talented a person is, the faster they grow."

"Yup, I agree. I remember back in college, a friend of mine barely read, while I read five hours like crazy. When exam time came, bro aced it and me, I just passed. So yeah, let me highlight it — 'TALENT'."

"Yeah, speaking of using… nobody noticed Alex?"

"Yes! I thought no one would bring this up. Statistically speaking, Evan should be faster, but Alex just suddenly started peaking. How…?"

"There's been rumors that it's the coach giving them something."

"Yeah, I still remember a few years ago about the whole situation…"

"But they wouldn't say this now. All they see is Dayo, so haters ducking everywhere."

"People would hate, so let them hate."

"No, I disagree. We have to find a way to stop it. I am a hardcore fan and I will spam and report any account that badmouths Dayo."

"Hehe, I like that idea — Operation Clean JD Reputation."

"Cute name. I agree with you."

"Isn't this a bit too toxic? I mean, I love JD, but is it not too much?"

"Nope, it's not. People shouldn't badmouth someone without evidence. We're fighting against it. So who's in?"

"Operation Clean JD Reputation — I'm in."

"ME TOO."

"ME THREE."

"HEHE, ME FOUR."

"All right, let's go."

---

While all of this was happening online, Michael sat in his office, scrolling through the news by himself for the first time in a long while.

What he saw made his head boil.

He muttered under his breath,

"I thought I told Clara to release this news."

He picked up his phone immediately and dialed a number.

"My office. Now!"

Michael's voice thundered through the office.

"I told you to make sure the PR team dragged Dayo down. Didn't I tell you that? Didn't I make myself clear?"

Clara stood stiffly in front of him, her tablet clutched against her chest.

"Sir, I already told PR," she said carefully. "They said they were waiting for some things—"

"Waiting for what?" Michael snapped, his voice sharp enough to cut the air. "Are they blind? Are you blind? Look at the internet! People are already lifting him like some hero!"

He slammed his palm on the table.

"I don't want hype. I want him dragged down. NOW."

Clara swallowed hard. She had seen Michael angry many times, but this was different. This was the kind of anger that made your stomach drop.

"Sir, they said—"

"I don't care," Michael barked. "Use our backup pages. Use the ghost accounts. Use the burner handles. I don't care what method you use—drag him DOWN. That's an order. Leave whatever you're doing and handle it now."

"Yes, sir," Clara whispered, already trembling slightly.

"Get out."

She turned quickly and hurried out before he exploded further. As she walked down the hallway, she muttered under her breath:

"God help whoever is on the receiving end of this man today."

She reached the PR department, pushed the glass door open, and called out:

"EVERYONE, STOP WHAT YOU'RE DOING!"

Heads popped up immediately.

The manager frowned. "Clara, we're in the middle of—"

"No excuses," she cut him off. Her voice shook, but she kept it firm. "Boss is furious. I repeat, furious. Start Dayo's matter right now. Use all accounts. All platforms. Push the narrative immediately."

"Clara—" the manager tried again.

"No. Listen carefully." She leaned forward. "I'm only going to say this once. Start what you were instructed to start. Because if you don't, it's not me you'll deal with — it's him. And you KNOW how he gets when he's angry."

The room went silent for a few seconds.

Then the manager nodded quickly.

"Okay, okay. Everyone, move. Now."

Chairs rolled back, keyboards clacked, and phones came out. Clara exhaled shakily and left.

---

Back in Michael's Office

Michael was already on another call.

"So how far?" he asked sharply. "What did you find?"

The voice on the other end hesitated.

"That boy… that boy is something else," the man said quietly. "He found out I was watching him. He actually noticed me when I was trying to collect evidence."

Michael's eyes narrowed.

"I didn't ask for praise. I asked for information. Don't annoy me."

"Yes, sir. Sorry." The investigator cleared his throat. "Dayo has grown. A lot. He's not the same boy from four years ago."

"Stop speaking in riddles," Michael growled. "Talk."

"I mean it literally, sir. He has… expanded. Financially. Strategically. It's actually shocking."

Michael leaned forward. "Explain."

"Well…" The investigator hesitated again. "He's worth over a billion dollars."

Michael blinked.

"…What?"

"Yes, sir."

"A billion what? Naira?"

"No, sir."

A pause.

"Dollars."

Michael froze in his chair.

"That's impossible," he muttered. "He has a house here and one in Korea. That doesn't add up to a billion."

"That's the thing, sir. He has businesses you don't know about. A lot of them. I'm preparing a full report now, but I'll summarize."

The investigator continued:

• "In the last four years, he built a restaurant chain."

• "He invested early in a tech company — a very successful one."

• "He backed two startups that blew up."

• "He owns shares in multiple entertainment platforms."

• "He has silent partnerships with studios."

• "He owns a production line, several patents, and even some international real-estate blocks."

Michael rubbed his forehead, stunned.

"Did he… plan this? All these things? How old is he again? Twenty-two?"

"Yes, sir."

Michael leaned back, breathing deeply.

The room felt too small.

"So," he finally said. "Any update on the drug evidence?"

"Yes. I analyzed the urine we got from the janitor's setup. If they're smart enough to use urine containers, it means they're hiding something. We'll need a blood sample or hair follicle to be sure."

Michael nodded irritably.

"Whatever you need. But get it fast. I need answers."

"Yes, sir. I'll keep you updated."

Michael ended the call and sat back slowly.

Confusion. Anger. Shock.

All mixed together.

He whispered to himself:

"This is about to get crazy… How did he become like this? How did he hide so much?"

His fingers tapped the table restlessly.

For the first time since this rivalry began, Michael realized something unsettling:

He didn't know who he was fighting anymore.

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