"Thomas, please come over and check it out. We've detected some strange activity."
The corridor lights flickered as Thomas strode briskly toward the secure server wing of the NeuroSpeech subdivision. The deeper he went, the quieter it became, except for the low hum of machines and the faint echo of his own footsteps.
His badge clicked against the scanner, unlocking the last door.
Inside, the tension was palpable.
Ibrahim stood hunched over a console, eyes darting across a sea of cascading data. Nearby, Alie had a tablet in hand, his brows tightly furrowed as he cross-checked lines of code.
Neither of them looked up when Thomas entered.
"It's happening again," Ibrahim said, voice low, tight.
Thomas's stomach sank. "Define 'it.'"
Ibrahim straightened and finally turned to him. "Unusual backend traffic. A mirror signal, masked, faint, but familiar. It's pinging the same relay the virus used to enter our system."
Alie spoke next. "Whoever did this left something behind. A signature. Or maybe… a backdoor."
Thomas approached the central screen, watching a stream of encrypted packets bounce in rapid sequence. "Have you isolated it?"
"Trying," Ibrahim said. "It's slippery. Whatever it is, it's self-altering."
"And we're sure this isn't just residue from the last breach?"
"No," Alie replied, his tone clipped. "This is active. Someone's poking around. Quietly. Like they want to see what's still accessible, what's still usable."
A silence fell between them as that realization settled.
Thomas clenched his jaw. "Can it be traced?"
"We're working on it," Ibrahim said. "But whoever's doing this knows what they're doing. It's someone with access. Someone still on the inside."
Thomas's eyes narrowed. "Keep digging. Discreetly. Don't flag this to the wider team yet. I'll report to Mr Lewis."
As he turned to leave, Ibrahim added, "Thomas… if this backdoor was created manually, there's a chance we'll find a signature. A line of code, a device ID… anything."
Thomas nodded. "Then find it. And fast."
He pushed through the door again, the weight of the company's secrets pressing down on his shoulders. Somewhere in that building, the traitor was still working, still hiding.
But not for long.
Meanwhile, at another unknown location. The clack of keyboard keys echoed softly in the dim room.
The figure sat cross-legged, bathed in the cool glow of dual monitors. Lines of code flickered across the screen, alive, moving, adapting. A flicker of satisfaction curled at the edge of hidden lips.
The signal was still active.
But the disturbance came faster than expected.
Someone was sniffing around.
Fingers paused above the keys. One command, and the entire path would disappear. Wiped clean. But that would be premature.
The figure leaned closer, eyes scanning a second monitor where system alerts pulsed faintly. The probe was quiet, cautious, someone from the subdivision, no doubt. Clever. Persistent. But not enough.
Not yet.
Still, precautions were everything.
Gloved fingers resumed motion, encrypting trails, rewriting markers, feeding false leads into dead channels. The firewall blinked green.
Then stillness.
The figure took a slow sip of cold coffee, the bitter edge grounding. There was no panic, only precision, only purpose.
Let them chase each other in circles.
Let suspicion spread like smoke.
This was only step two.
With one last glance at the screen, the figure whispered to the empty room.
"They'll never see it coming."
And then, just like that, the laptop lid shut with a quiet click, swallowing the glow into darkness.
Within the next thirty minutes Thomas was back at LewisTech headquarters. He pushed open the door to Daniel's office, his face ashen with urgency.
Daniel looked up from his desk, instantly on alert. "What now?"
"It's getting worse," Thomas said, stepping in fully and closing the door behind him. "The attacks are multiplying. Ibrahim said the virus is adapting, it's shifting codes, camouflaging itself, and blocking tracebacks. Like it's learning from every firewall we put up."
Daniel's jaw tightened. "Still no trace?"
Thomas shook his head. "Not even a hint of where it's coming from. Whoever built it… they knew our system well. Too well."
For a moment, silence.
Then Daniel stood, slowly, deliberately. He walked to the window, hands in his pockets, staring out as if the skyline might offer answers. When he turned, the decision was already made in his eyes.
"Tell Ibrahim I'm coming down."
Thomas blinked. "Sir?"
"I'm logging in myself. I don't care how adaptive this virus is. I built that system from the ground up, every protocol, every lock and latch. If someone wants to dismantle it, they'll have to face me directly."
"But..Mr Lewis , you haven't.."
"I haven't coded in years," he interrupted. "I know. But if this thing keeps evolving, it's not just going to take down NeuroSpeech, it could corrupt everything we've built."
Thomas's throat tightened. "You think it's someone inside, don't you?"
"I know it is," Daniel said coldly. "But we're not just going to wait around for a confession. We fight this virus from the inside, and we start now."
Thomas gave a slow nod, stepping aside as Daniel grabbed his phone and strode toward the door.
"I'll alert Ibrahim."
"And prep the war room," Daniel called over his shoulder. "If this shadow wants to play a game of code, they just challenged the wrong man."
Just about an hour, around 3:45 p.m. Daniel and Thomas were at the subdivision of developing wing.
The NeuroSpeech war room was a tense pulse of lights, fingers hammering keyboards, and eyes glued to lines of code streaming across wide monitors. The hum of processors, the low murmur of panic-tinged discussion, it all stilled when the glass doors parted and Daniel Lewis walked in.
Thomas trailed behind him, his face grim. Ibrahim and Alie stood at attention.
"Status?" Daniel's voice cut through the air like a scalpel.
Ibrahim stepped forward. "The virus mutated. It's no longer just wiping data, it's replicating false files and corrupting core language algorithms. Every time we patch one hole, three more open. It's… adaptive."
Daniel didn't blink. "And the backup systems?"
"Scrambled. Whoever did this knew our fail-safes."
Daniel strode to the main console, sleeves already rolled. "Step aside."
Thomas watched, a mixture of awe and tension in his eyes. The team parted instinctively as Daniel settled in, eyes scanning the cascading chaos on screen.
He typed.
Not like the others, fast, yes, but precise. Efficient. Where others chased problems with brute force, Daniel moved like someone who'd written the code in another life.
"Kill the network bridge. Isolate segment two and seven. I need a clean shell access," he commanded.
"Done," Alie said, fingers flying.
He dove deeper.
The virus was beautiful in a terrifying way, layers upon layers of encrypted loops, fake endpoints, feedback loops coded to mimic normal activity.
"You're not just here to break us," Daniel muttered under his breath. "You're here to watch."
"What?" Ibrahim asked.
Daniel didn't answer immediately. Instead, he rewrote three lines, bypassing a false path. Another sequence bloomed in the display, code within code.
"There," Daniel pointed. "That sequence isn't damaging anything. It's tracing usage logs. It's tracking us."
Alie's eyes widened. "You think.."
"I know," Daniel said coldly. "This isn't just a virus. It's a parasite."
The room fell silent.
Daniel leaned back slightly, then straightened again. "They knew exactly where to go, what to touch, and how to mimic our system's behavior. This wasn't an outside hit."
"You mean," Alie began.
"Someone inside gave them access. Or worse, is the one behind it." His voice was sharp, but quiet.
Daniel stood. "I've neutralized the virus's core spread. It'll slow down, but not stop completely. We've got hours, maybe less, before it rebuilds. Meanwhile, I want logs pulled, badge swipes tracked, external drive access scanned, everything from the past month."
Ibrahim nodded, already typing.
"And Thomas, get me a list of every employee with advanced-level system access who joined in the last three years. Prioritize the ones no one remembers."
"A shadow," Thomas muttered.
"Exactly."
Daniel's eyes were steel. "We've been bleeding for weeks and didn't know it. I intend to find out who opened the wound."
Time slipped by, and by four o'clock, Esther was back from class. Sunlight poured through the tall windows of the Lewis mansion, washing the marble floors in a gentle golden hue. The air was warm, laced with the delicate scent of lilies drifting in from the garden, giving the spacious home a quiet, fragrant calm.
Esther sat cross-legged on a cushioned bench near the conservatory, watching Betty engage in her vocal therapy session with the specialist. The girl was focused today, her fingers drumming lightly on the table as she mimicked the tones and signs being shown to her. There was a quiet eagerness in her eyes that made Esther smile.
Then her phone buzzed.
Zianab (Video Call)
Her heart skipped.
Esther stood and walked a few steps into the hallway, pausing by one of the large indoor plants before answering.
Zianab's face appeared, looking tired but composed. Behind her, a hospital wall peeked through, white and clinical.
"Zee…?"
"She's awake," Zianab said softly, the relief in her voice barely masked.
Esther's hand covered her mouth. "Mama… she, she's okay?"
Zianab nodded. "They got her stabilized last night. The swelling reduced after the third round of medication. The doctors say it's a slow road, but she's lucid. She asked for you."
Tears welled up in Esther's eyes before she could stop them. "Why didn't you tell me earlier?" she asked, her voice trembling with hurt. She was still reeling from the fact that her sister hadn't told her about their mother slipping into a coma after the surgery last week.
Zianab looked away briefly. "Because you would've panicked. You're already doing so much, Essie. And for what it's worth… you were right to take the job. The treatment saved her."
Esther exhaled, voice shaking. "But she was in a coma for three days?"
"Yes. We almost lost her," Zianab admitted, her voice cracking now. "But we didn't. She's alive, Esther. That's what matters."
Esther sank onto a nearby ottoman, the tears now sliding down freely. Not of grief, but of profound, overwhelming relief.
"She's going to be okay?" she asked again, needing the confirmation.
"She's going to be okay."
The line was quiet for a moment, both sisters silently holding onto the fragile hope they'd been chasing for weeks.
"Thank you, Zee. For being there."
Zianab smiled softly. "You would've done the same. You still are."
Esther wiped her cheeks. "Tell her I'll call later. I, I want her to rest first."
"I will."
Before the call ended, Zianab added, "You look tired, Esther. Are you okay over there?"
Esther glanced back through the glass at Betty, who was now laughing quietly at something the therapist did. "I'm okay," she said, her voice a little stronger. "One day at a time."
But hee sister wasn't buying into it, she knew her well to know when she's masking something on.
She tilted her head, eyes narrowing slightly. "Esther… are you really okay? I mean,really?"
Esther hesitated, her fingers trailing over the edge of the ottoman as if the soft fabric could anchor her. "Yeah. I'm fine," she said quietly. The words felt heavy on her tongue, a lie she told more for Zianab's peace than her own.
As much as it pained her to hide the truth, telling her sister she was confused, hurt, or worse, that she might be falling for Mr. Lewis, would only set off alarms. Zianab wouldn't just worry; she'd act. She'd march straight to Daniel Lewis himself if she had to and drag Esther back home without a second thought. She'd always been the protector, the strong one who took charge when things got messy.
But this wasn't something Esther could explain, not yet. Not when her own feelings didn't even make sense to her.
There was a pause on the other end of the line, then Zianab's voice came gently, but firmly, "How are things between you and Mr. Lewis?"
The question hit a beat of silence. Esther looked away for a moment, composing herself before answering, "Good. He's… respectful."
Zianab's brows rose, unconvinced. "Respectful?"
Esther gave a small laugh to soften the air. "I mean it. He's busy, but he checks in. And the house isn't as cold as I thought it'd be."
"But you're safe, right?"
That made her pause.
It wasn't fear Esther felt around Daniel. It was something else, confusing, unexpected… intense. But she couldn't tell Zianab that. Not now. Not when their mother had just come out of a coma and hee treatment was yet to complete .
"I'm safe, Ziee," she said softly. "I promise."
Her sister studied her through the screen for a moment longer, then sighed. "Okay. Just… if anything feels off, you call me. I don't care if it's midnight."
Esther nodded. "I will."
Zianab leaned back, the tension in her shoulders easing. "And how's Betty? Has she warmed up to you yet?"
Esther turned slightly, glancing toward the garden. "She's in session now. And yeah… she's warming up. Slowly. But it's progress."
"That's good to hear."
Esther smiled, and for a moment, it felt like the kind of talk they used to have, before the hospital visits and hard choices.
"Tell Mama I'll call tonight."
"I will. And Essie, thank you again."
As the call ended, Esther sat for a moment, staring at the dimmed screen. She took a steadying breath, brushed away the tears that remained on her cheeks, then stood and made her way back toward the garden.
Betty turned at the sound of her footsteps, her fingers stilling on the therapy board. Her eyes studied Esther's face, something curious flashing behind them.
Esther smiled reassuringly. "I'm okay," she said quietly.
Betty tilted her head, then reached out to hand her a small, doodled sticky note that simply said: Brave.
Esther blinked, caught off guard. Then she knelt beside her and hugged the girl gently.
"Thank you," she whispered.
By the time Daniel returned home that evening, the sun had dipped below the skyline, leaving only faint streaks of amber across the horizon. Now, hours later, he stood alone on the terrace, the night air cooler against his skin, laced with the salt of the distant sea.
Below, the city stretched in a quiet mosaic of lights, distant, peaceful, and utterly detached from the tension lodged in his chest.
He stood by the railing, one hand curled tightly around a half-empty glass of water. The other ran through his hair as if hoping to untangle the day's failures from his thoughts. His suit jacket was off, tie loosened, but the strain in his shoulders refused to ease.
Behind him, the soft creak of the glass door opening was followed by light footsteps.
"Mr Lewis," a familiar voice called, gentle, but carrying a note of mischief.
Daniel turned slightly. Esther stood at the threshold, a plate balanced in her hand, the cloth covering it slightly lifted by the steam. Her hair was pinned up loosely, strands brushing her cheeks in the wind.
"Lady Bell's rice bread," she said, walking forward. "She said you deserved your share before Betty inhaled the rest."
Daniel took the plate with a murmured thanks but made no move to eat.
Esther hesitated. She should've walked away, maybe that was the professional thing to do, but something about the way he stood there, unmoving and isolated, rooted her to the spot.
She took a few steps closer. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," he said quickly, without turning to look at her.
Esther's brow arched. "Right. And I'm Lady Bell's long-lost granddaughter."
That drew the faintest huff from him, a ghost of a smile.
"You forget," she continued, stepping beside him now, "I'm a psychology student. I read body language the way you read binary code."
Daniel exhaled deeply, resting both palms on the railing now. "You're persistent."
"And you're not okay."
There was a pause, long enough that she thought he wouldn't answer.
Then he spoke, voice lower, tighter. "The project was breached."
Her eyes widened. "NeuroSpeech?"
He nodded.
"Is it serious?"
He turned to face her, and the exhaustion in his eyes told her more than words ever could. "We're still assessing the full damage, but yes. It's serious. Whoever did it was smart. They knew where to hit."
Esther wrapped her arms around herself against the rising chill. "Any idea who's behind it?"
"No," he said. "But it's someone from inside. Someone who knows the system well enough to avoid detection."
Her heart gave a small jump. "You mean… anyone could be a suspect?"
Daniel's jaw flexed. "Yes."
Esther felt a slight tightness coil in her chest. "Even me?"
His head snapped toward her, eyes sharp. "No."
That single word hit deeper than she expected.
"I trust you," he said, voice firm. "You've been here barely a year, and already you've given more than you should. If anything, I'm the one putting you at risk."
Esther blinked. A warmth bloomed in her chest, washing over the last traces of doubt from the gala, from his silence, from how far apart they had felt in that glittering room.
She smiled faintly. "That's… the nicest thing you've said to me all week."
"I should probably say more of them," he replied, the corner of his mouth twitching.
"Headache?" Esther asked softly, noticing the way Daniel briefly rubbed his temples.
Daniel blinked, caught off guard. "Probably. Why?"
"I can help," she said simply, already stepping behind him before he could object.
"Miss Cole…" he began, confusion in his tone as he half-turned.
She smiled faintly. "My mom used to do this when we were kids. We'd all come home from school complaining, Sarah with her classroom drama, Zianab buried in her books, and me, always overwhelmed by the noise. Mama would sit us down, one by one, and do this."
She placed her fingers gently at his temples, her touch light and confident. Her hands moved in slow, steady circles, firm enough to ease tension, gentle enough to comfort.
Daniel stilled. The initial awkwardness gave way to something quieter, deeper. He closed his eyes, the tension in his shoulders loosening ever so slightly.
"You have warm hands," he murmured.
"I don't think this is FDA approved," he added.
Esther smiled. "Probably not. But it works."
Daniel eventually let out a breath, slower, calmer.
"You're good at this," he said.
"Told you. Psychology major. Healing minds, one headache at a time."
He leaned back slightly into her touch, his body slowly easing from the weight it had carried all day. Esther, still behind him, was quiet, her fingers still massaging his temples in slow, careful circles.
And then, the moment shifted.
Not dramatically. No sweeping music. No sudden confessions.
Just silence.
Thick, comfortable, yet quietly intense.
Her hands stilled, fingertips brushing against the side of his face, lingering a second longer than they needed to.
He turned slowly, meeting her eyes over his shoulder.
Esther's heart gave a subtle lurch. There was something about the way he was looking at her, not just grateful, but… open. Unmasked. A version of Daniel Lewis most people didn't get to see.
Their faces were close now. Closer than before. Close enough for her to notice the way the lines at the corners of his eyes softened, or how the fading moonlight caught in the flecks of silver in his hair.
She didn't move.
Neither did he.
His gaze dropped briefly to her lips, and for a suspended second, the space between them thinned.
But Daniel blinked first, straightening gently and turning his eyes back toward the city. His walls didn't shoot back up, not fully, but a soft line of restraint returned to his features.
Esther stepped back too, respectfully, a faint fluttering in her chest she couldn't quite name.
"I should… probably let you rest," she said quietly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
He nodded. "Yeah. Big day tomorrow."
She turned to leave, but just before she reached the door, his voice stopped her.
"Miss Lewis."
She glanced back. "Yes?"
Daniel's eyes held hers a second longer. "You're not just helping Betty. You're helping me too."
It wasn't a declaration. It wasn't even romantic.
But it was real.
She smiled softly, gave a small nod, and slipped quietly back into the house, leaving Daniel standing under the stars, holding a plate of rice bread he'd probably never eat, and feeling, for the first time in days, just a little less alone.