The Lewis mansion stood still and quiet.
It was well past two in the morning, and Esther still hadn't found sleep. After countless turns in bed, tangled in thoughts that refused to let go, she gave up the fight and slipped out into the hallway, hoping a breath of fresh air might soothe her restless mind.
She wandered until her feet brought her to the top floor balcony. The night air was cool, brushing against her skin as she wrapped her arms around herself. Below, the city lights shimmered like scattered stars, blinking faintly in the distance. Up here, no one asked questions. No one expected answers.
Just as she stepped into the hush of that silence, her eyes caught sight of a lone figure standing at the far end of the terrace.
"Mr. Lewis?" she called softly, her voice brushing the night.
Daniel turned, slightly startled, his gaze pulling away from the drifting clouds. "Couldn't sleep either?" she asked, already knowing the answer.
He nodded, offering a faint smile as he walked toward her. "I presume you couldn't, either," he said, careful not to let his gaze linger too long.
"I was thinking about Betty," Esther admitted, her voice gentle. "She told me something earlier… she doesn't want her voice back. She's convinced it would only hurt the people around her."
Daniel's expression darkened, the concern in his eyes impossible to hide. "I've noticed," he said after a moment. "She's been resisting everything, the therapy, the exercises… it's like she's already made up her mind."
"She has," Esther confirmed quietly. "And that makes it harder. With cases like hers, progress only happens when the person wants it. She has to believe she deserves her voice back."
"That's why I brought you here," Daniel said with quiet conviction. "I believe you're the one who can help her want that again."
Those words reached deep, wrapping around Esther's heart like warmth in the cold. It wasn't just professional trust, it was personal belief. And it meant everything to her.
"I'll do my best, sir," she said sincerely.
"I'm counting on it, Miss Cole," Daniel replied, offering her a rare smile.
Silence settled between them after that, not heavy or uncomfortable, but soft and stretching like a blanket beneath the stars. They stood side by side, facing the sky like it held answers neither of them could speak aloud.
No more words were needed. Something warmer was quietly blooming in the hush of that night.
Morning sunlight streamed through the tall windows of the Lewis mansion, casting a golden hue over the dining area. It was quiet, save for the soft clinking of cutlery and the faint hiss of something sizzling in the kitchen.
Esther stood at the stove, flipping slices of plantain in the frying pan, a faint smile tugging her lips. She had woken early, unable to forget the moment on the balcony. Something had shifted, and though she couldn't name it, she felt it in the way her fingers moved, in the little care she took slicing the onions for the eggs.
It was a simple breakfast, plantains, eggs sautéed with peppers and onions, and buttered bread. Nothing extravagant like the mansion's usual meals, but it was familiar, comforting. A piece of herself.
By the time she arranged the food on the table, Lady Bell and Betty were already seated. Betty offered a small nod, her usual shy gaze flicking over the food curiously. Lady Bell, perfectly dressed as always, sat silent with a knowing arch to her brow.
Then came Daniel.
He walked in, freshly dressed for the day, pausing mid-step when his eyes met the table, and then Esther. "You cooked?"
"Just a little something," Esther said with a small shrug, brushing her hands on the apron. "It's not five-star, but it'll fill the stomach."
Daniel chuckled, his usual commanding demeanor softening. "I'm sure it will."
He took a seat across from her, and for a second, the room held its breath.
Betty picked up a piece of bread and began nibbling. Lady Bell sipped her tea in silence, her sharp eyes watching her brother like a hawk, studying the way he spoke, the way his gaze lingered a little longer on the girl who had made his breakfast.
Daniel cut a slice of plantain and took a bite. Then another. He nodded, slowly. "This is… surprisingly good."
Esther grinned. "Surprisingly?"
"I didn't say I had low expectations," he said, hiding a smirk behind his coffee.
Lady Bell leaned back in her seat. "That's a first. You don't even eat unless it's plated like an art piece."
"Well, apparently I've been missing out," Daniel said, eyes not leaving Esther. "Maybe I need more simple things in my life."
That comment earned a noticeable shift from both Betty and Lady Bell. The little girl paused mid-chew, blinking at her father. And Lady Bell tilted her head ever so slightly, brows lifting just enough to register intrigue.
When breakfast wound down, and Betty was taken away by her Mather for her morning session, Esther walked over to Daniel who was scrolling through emails on his phone.
"I was hoping to attend a campus function this evening," she began, "a small event. Just a few hours, nothing overnight."
Daniel looked up, his expression unreadable for a beat. Then he nodded. "That's fine. On one condition."
She raised a brow. "Which is?"
"You go with the new bodyguards I hired," he said firmly. "They'll stay discreet. But I won't risk your safety."
Esther wanted to argue, just a little, but the concern in his voice stopped her. "Alright," she said with a nod. "I'll take them."
"Good," he said, closing his tablet. "You represent more than yourself now."
Esther blinked at the weight of those words. It wasn't just a matter of protection, he was thinking of her, of her place in this house. In his world. Or perhaps his responsibility on his promise to her sister to protect her.
Lady Bell watched them from the hallway arch, arms crossed and lips tugging into the faintest smirk.
Something was changing. And her brother didn't even see it.
But she did.
"Did you go behind my back, John? And to Mr. Barrie of all people?"
Hawa's voice rang sharply through the HR department of LewisTech headquarters. Heads turned. Her heels clicked furiously against the tiled floor as she paced, hands flying in frustration. Her morning had barely started when she received the unexpected call from Mr. Barrie, the HR Head, ordering her to issue a job offer to some nobody.
"How could you? How could you do this to me?" she seethed, jabbing a finger at John, who stood with a calmness that only added fuel to her fire.
John stayed composed. He knew this was coming.
"Hawa, it's not that deep. I only went to him because you refused to hear me out," he said.
"Refused?" Hawa scoffed, arms crossed tightly over her chest. "That's because I'm not stupid, John. She has no qualifications! You expect me to hand a marketing intern role to someone with just WASSCE papers?"
"She might not have a degree or a master's," John defended, "but she has experience, real, hands-on experience. She's worked in sales, brand promotion, and she's got a social media platform with enough followers to sell out our entire line."
"Oh, spare me that influencer speech," Hawa shot back. "You know she's not fit for the position. There are far more qualified candidates, and you chose her?"
She paused, glaring at him as her chest rose and fell with heavy breaths. "Whatever it is that pushed you to pull this stunt, just know I'm going to dig it out. I'll find out exactly how you convinced Mr. Barrie to bypass the recruitment policy for her."
With that, she spun on her heels, storming off into her office and slamming the door behind her.
John remained where he stood, unbothered.
She wouldn't find anything. Not unless Mr. Barrie confessed to the video John kept quietly in his possession, a compromising clip of the HR head and a junior staff member in a hotel room. That single file held the kind of power that could burn a career, destroy a reputation, and unravel a ten-year marriage.
And John wasn't afraid to use it.
Especially when it came to repaying a favor…
…or protecting a secret deal.
Meanwhile , a meeting was being held at the top floor conference room, just about 10:30 AM
The polished glass table reflected the blueprints and projection screens hovering in the air, a mix of real and augmented visuals as the core development team gathered around. Daniel stood at the head of the room, hands tucked into his pockets, his gaze steely yet laced with an edge of personal desperation he rarely revealed.
Two years. That's how long it had been since they first conceptualized Project NeuroSpeak, a neural-responsive speech assistant designed to read unspoken signals from the brain and convert them into audible language.
They were on the brink of something historical, but the pace was testing his patience.
"Talk to me," Daniel said, eyes flicking to Ibrahim who stood at the far right. "Where are we?"
Ibrahim clicked the holographic screen to life. "Phase two is almost at threshold. We've successfully converted primary neuron firings into signal data using the synaptic headband. We're still working on distinguishing emotional intent in speech outputs."
"We've improved the latency, too," chimed in Dr. Alie George , the neuro-linguistic engineer. "Down to 1.3 seconds between thought and verbal output. The AI is learning faster, adapting even to impulsive, unstructured thoughts."
Daniel nodded slowly, taking it in. "What's the biggest obstacle now?"
"Stability," Ibrahim answered honestly. "It works… but not consistently. The system interprets subconscious noise. Thoughts like fear, hesitation, even suppressed memories can bleed into the final output."
"We can't risk that," Daniel said firmly. "Especially not with children."
A silence followed. Everyone in the room knew who he was referring to.
"If we succeed…" Ibrahim began carefully, "We won't just be helping your daughter . This will change the way the world sees speech disability, forever. No one's ever done this."
"That's why I want results," Daniel said, his voice calm but charged. "You've had two years. I'm giving you six months to stabilize it. Get it right. We launch before year's end."
His words settled like iron in the room. Ambition, pressure, hope, all mingled in that final declaration.
He turned toward the projection of the prototype, sleek, silver, and almost ready. "Let's make history," he said.
It was just past three in the afternoon when Sarah finally gave in to the relentless string of calls and messages. Harriet had been blowing up her phone all morning. Sarah regretted ever sharing her number, some things, once done, were impossible to undo.
She entered the low-lit restaurant quietly tucked away from the main road, far enough from LewisTech to avoid any familiar eyes. Dressed in a sleek, emerald silk dress that shimmered under the golden lighting, Sarah scanned the room until her eyes landed on the last person she wanted to see in public.
Harriet was already there, stuffing her face with cassava leaf rice and aggressively cracking open a crab shell, oblivious to the mess she was making.
"You finally decided to show up," Harriet said, talking through a mouthful of food.
Sarah sat across from her with a look of restrained revulsion, clutching her designer handbag tightly, guarding it from the red oil stains Harriet was flinging everywhere.
"Whatever. Why did you want to see me?" Sarah asked sharply, her tone laced with annoyance.
"How about that job?" Harriet leaned in with a smirk. "You worked your little magic yet?"
"I told you it's done. You'll get the offer email before evening," Sarah snapped, rolling her eyes. "Stop calling me unless it's absolutely necessary. I don't want to be seen with you."
"You better not be lying. You know say me head nor flup," Harriet warned with a mischievous edge.
Sarah rose to her feet, slinging her bag over her shoulder. "Why would I lie, when you're holding something over me?"
"Oh, before you go," Harriet said with mock sweetness, "can you pay for this? I forgot my wallet."
Sarah's jaw clenched. Her nails dug into her palm as she restrained the violent urge to throw the plate in Harriet's face. Instead, she forced a smile and walked to the counter to pay, each step burning with humiliation.
"Thank you!" Harriet called after her sarcastically as Sarah stormed out of the restaurant, only to stop short.
A familiar voice chilled her spine.
"Sarah?"
She turned, and there was Esther walking toward her, wide-eyed with pleasant surprise.
"What are you doing here?" Esther asked warmly.
"Work," Sarah answered quickly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "What about you? Shouldn't you be at the Lewis mansion?"
"I came to grab something to eat. My campus isn't far," Esther said, smiling. "How've you been?"
"I'm fine." Sarah's voice was dry, her eyes darting briefly toward the restaurant door.
"You seem… happy," she added, her tone turning pointed. "The Lewises must be treating you well."
"They are," Esther said sincerely. "They're good people. You should come by sometime. Lady Bell would love the company."
"I'd rather not," Sarah replied curtly. "I don't enjoy being looked down on. Besides, I'm busy."
She didn't say what she was truly thinking, that she had dreamed of entering the Lewis mansion, of living the life Esther now had, soaking in that luxury. Her younger sister was living her fantasy.
"Anyway," Sarah reached into her bag, "Let me get you something for food."
"Thanks but no need," Esther said gently, halting her hand. "Mr. Lewis gave me a card." She pulled out a sleek black card.
Sarah's eyes froze. Her fingers tightened around the strap of her bag. A sharp pang rose in her chest.
"I see," she said, her voice clipped. "Forgot you're rich now."
Esther frowned. "That's not.."
"I'm off. I've got work," Sarah cut in, already turning away.
"Sarah," Esther called after her, "please make time to call Mom and Zianab. Mom misses you."
"I'll call when I'm not busy," Sarah replied, her voice fading. But then she turned back, her expression cool and calculated.
"And Esther, don't get involved with Mr. Lewis. He's not in your league… or your age."
"He's my boss," Esther said, eyes firm. "And that's all he'll ever be."
Sarah smiled coldly. "I hope you remember your words. Because some limits shouldn't be crossed."
She turned and walked off, the clack of her heels echoing in Esther's ears.
Inside her mind, however, Sarah's thoughts boiled.
No matter what it took, the title of Mrs. Lewis was hers to claim.
And if anyone, even her own sister, stood in the way, they wouldn't live to regret it.
After grabbing what she needed from the café near, Esther made her way back to campus. The atmosphere was buzzing, music blared from speakers mounted near the student lounge, and groups of students clustered around laughing, chatting, and dancing. The campus was alive with joy, the kind of unfiltered excitement that came with the semester break.
Esther walked through the crowd, weaving around dancing pairs and food stalls until she spotted Dija standing in a group of three people.
"Esther! Thank God you're back!" Dija called out with a grin. "Bakarr was just saying you sneaked off to go home."
The group laughed. It was no secret that Esther wasn't the social type, if she had her way, she'd have skipped the whole semester break party. But Dija had one of her emotional mail on her.
"Very funny, guys," Esther said, smiling. "I just went to grab a snack. The cafeteria was closed."
"You lost the bet!" Dija turned to Bakarr and held out her hand triumphantly. "Pay up, hundred Leones!"
"I don't have any cash on me," Bakarr admitted, scratching his head. "But I'll send it through Orange Money."
"Perfect. You have my Orange line," Dija said with a sparkle in her eye.
Esther gasped, laughing. "You guys are unbelievable. You made a bet on me?"
"Always good to take advantage of a business opportunity," Dija said proudly, making everyone laugh again. She was a business student through and through.
Then, as the music changed to a soft, upbeat Afrobeat rhythm, Bakarr turned to Esther with a smile.
"Can I have this dance?" he asked, holding out his hand.
Esther blinked, momentarily stunned. Dija gasped dramatically, covering her mouth, then gave a cheeky wink.
"Please?" Bakarr asked again, a little softer now.
"Come on, give the guy a chance," someone in the group urged.
"It's just one dance," another voice chimed in.
Esther hesitated, but finally nodded. "Alright," she said, placing her hand in Bakarr's.
They moved toward the open space where other students were dancing. Bakarr gently placed his hand on her waist, guiding her rhythmically as the music pulsed around them. Esther moved lightly, her body relaxed but her mind preoccupied.
"You look beautiful ," Bakarr said, leaning in slightly over the music.
Esther smiled politely. "Thanks, Bakarr."
"I was thinking… it's nice to see you letting go a little. You're usually so guarded."
Esther looked up at him, her expression unreadable. "I just came to support Dija," she said plainly, avoiding anything sentimental.
"You know…" he started again, "I meant what I said last year. My feelings haven't changed."
Esther gently stepped back, still swaying to the music but putting distance between their connection.
"Bakarr," she said quietly, "I don't want to give you the wrong idea. I appreciate your kindness, but I still feel the same. I just… don't see us that way."
Bakarr's smile faded slightly, but he nodded. "I understand. Still, thanks for the dance."
As the song ended, they separated, clapping along with others. Dija gave Esther a thumbs-up from afar, clearly amused.
Hours passed. The energy on campus only grew wilder as the music shifted from chill to intense. Esther, swayed by the moment, and a few too many bottles passed her way, started to loosen up more than she normally would.
By evening, she was laughing a little too loudly, swaying when she walked, her words slurring slightly. She tried to say something clever to Dija but only giggled halfway through.
Dija, growing worried, took her friend by the arm. "Esther, hey, you okay?"
Esther nodded exaggeratedly. "Yessss… I'm fine. Sooo fine. You're the best friend. Shhh don't tell anyone!"
"Okay, this is bad," Dija muttered to herself. She glanced at her own phone—battery dead.
Frustrated and desperate, she took Esther's phone and unlocked it with her thumb while Esther stared off at the sky.
She scrolled through the recent calls and paused at the contact labeled Mr. Lewis.
After a hesitant moment, she tapped it.
Meanwhile, Daniel sat in the backseat of his sleek black sedan, the city lights glowing past the tinted windows. He had just wrapped up an exhausting week of high-level meetings at LewisTech. He leaned back, eyes closed, mentally replaying every delay on the NeuroSpeak project. His daughter's voice, silent, still missing from their lives, haunted his thoughts.
His phone buzzed.
He opened his eyes, glanced at the screen.
Esther.
He answered immediately.
"Esther?"
"Um…Uncle Daniel?" Dija's nervous voice came through the speaker.
Daniel straightened. "Dija, where's Mis Cole?"
"Well she's—uh—drunk. Really drunk. I didn't know who else to call. I didn't want to leave her alone."
Daniel's tone sharpened. "Where are you?"
"On campus. At the party near the student center."
"I'm on my way. Stay with her. Don't let her out of your sight."
He ended the call and knocked on the partition glass.
"Turn around," he told the driver. "Head to the university. Now."