The Jalloh residence stood at the edge of Spur Road, half-shrouded in darkness, half-bathed in moonlight. High walls cloaked in vines kept the world at bay, but inside, beneath the calm exterior, something more dangerous simmered.
A sleek black car pulled up just before the iron gates. The driver didn't honk. He simply waited. A few seconds later, the gates creaked open on quiet hinges, and the vehicle slid through like a whisper.
John stepped out, dressed in muted tones, nothing flashy. He didn't need to be seen. He wasn't there for appearances.
The guard gave a respectful nod but said nothing as he led him through the side path, bypassing the main entrance. They passed the still garden and a trickling stone fountain before entering a back hallway that led to a richly furnished study.
Inside, the air was scented with oud and aged cigars. Dark mahogany shelves lined the walls, filled with books, relics, and photo frames that captured a different time, when the Jalloh name still commanded reverence.
Alhaji Jalloh sat behind a large desk, clothed in a flowing white kaftan, fingers clasped beneath his chin. His eyes were sharp, alert, calculating. Across from him, his wife Jariatu sat in quiet dignity, her face solemn, as if carved from stone. The tension in the room was palpable.
"You're late," Alhaji said without looking up.
John bowed slightly. "I had to make sure I wasn't followed."
He'd spent the past hour carefully retracing his steps after leaving LewisTech. Security had tightened considerably since the breach, and though he wasn't on Daniel's radar, yet, he wasn't foolish enough to assume he was safe.
A long silence stretched in the dark-paneled study, the air heavy with cigar smoke and tension. Then Alhaji Jalloh finally spoke, his voice low and weighted.
"The woman. Fatmata. She's taken the fall?"
"She confessed. They believe she acted alone," John confirmed, calm and professional. "Mr. Lewis is keeping things quiet. The investigation's been slowed."
Alhaji finally looked up, his eyes sharp beneath the shadows.
"Don't be too sure. Make certain her lips stay sealed behind bars," he warned. "This case has government eyes on it. They won't let it slide."
From his sources, Alhaji already knew the Prime Minister himself was backing the NeuroSpeech project, for his son's sake. That kind of political investment wasn't easy to brush off.
"She won't talk," John said firmly. "Even if the police squeeze her, she won't lead them to you. I've made sure of that."
It was a truth dressed in loyalty. John knew his place. Men like Alhaji didn't dirty their hands, they paid men like him to do it.
Alhaji's gaze narrowed. "And the system?"
"Damaged… but not dead. They're close to stabilizing it. Lewis's team is sharp."
A slow breath escaped the older man, somewhere between irritation and reluctant respect. He leaned back in his leather chair, tapping his gold ring against the table's polished surface.
"She was supposed to destroy it," he muttered bitterly. His fingers curled into a fist.
He had spent millions ensuring that woman would deal the final blow. Daniel wasn't supposed to have any hope left, not for his project, and definitely not for his daughter.
"She did, sir," John replied quickly. "But Mr. Lewis fixed it himself. Personally."
Of course.
He should have remembered. They had shared a lecture hall once, long ago. He had seen Daniel Lewis at work. The boy had been brilliant, top of every class, always a step ahead.
Alhaji had resented him even then. But none of that mattered now. The past couldn't bring back the son he'd buried. All that mattered was revenge.
"And the copy?" Alhaji asked finally.
John reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a slim flash drive. He handed it over without ceremony.
Alhaji took it with both hands, gripping it like a trophy. Like a dagger pointed at Daniel's legacy.
"So… are you planning to build your own system from it?" John asked, curiosity creeping into his voice. He knew Alhaji owned a tech company of his own, smaller, less reputable, but still influential. It would make sense to reverse-engineer the prototype.
But Alhaji's expression darkened.
"That's not your concern. You may go."
John bowed once more and turned to leave. Behind him, the older man stared at the flash drive as if it contained the future itself.
Not to build. Not to create.
To destroy.
He wouldn't replicate the NeuroSpeech system, he would sell it. To foreign markets, rival companies, black-market developers. Piece by piece, he would flood the world with Daniel's stolen work, until what once made LewisTech unique was scattered and cheapened.
And when that happened, Daniel's empire would crumble, not with a crash, but with quiet ruin.
His dream, his life's work, his daughter's hope, stripped from him.
Exactly as Alhaji had promised Jariatu the night they buried their son.
Jariatu stirred beside him, speaking for the first time that night. "I don't care about their projects," she said, her voice cracking but steady with purpose. "I want justice for my son."
Her gaze was hollow, lost in the shadows of memory. "I want to see him ruined… broken. His family has caused us so much pain. It's time they feel the same."
The grief wrapped around her like a shroud, each word dragged from a heart still bleeding. The memory never left her, being called from home in the middle of the night, rushing to the city's government hospital. She remembered the sterile scent, the bright fluorescent lights, and then… him. Her little boy.
Lying lifeless on a rolling stretcher.
His face was mangled, his neck twisted at an unnatural angle.
She had wanted to scream, to cry, but no sound came. Her throat locked, her eyes dry, frozen in shock as she picked him up in her arms. Her body trembled as she called his name over and over again.
"No… No… NeNe, please…"
No response.
No breath.
No heartbeat.
Then the scream finally tore out of her. The kind that split the air and bent knees. The kind that stayed with you forever.
Her son was gone. Gone forever.
And Daniel Lewis's little devil was responsible.
His daughter had caused the accident that took her child's life.
Since that day, Jariatu had made herself a promise, a vow burned into her soul: Daniel and his daughter would pay. Not in blood, but in pain. Long, drawn-out, unbearable pain. Just like hers.
"Make him pay, Baba," Jariatu whispered now, her voice raw, almost inhuman. "Make them suffer."
Alhaji's jaw tightened, his eyes dark with rage.
"I will," he said, each word deliberate and final. "Daniel Lewis will be destroyed. And it's going to happen soon."
The morning sun filtered gently through the tall windows of the Lewis residence, casting a soft orange hue across the polished floors. The household stirred with quiet activity, staff moved with purpose, the scent of brewed coffee filled the air, and the low hum of an engine signaled Daniel's car being brought to the front.
Daniel, dressed in a crisp navy suit, glanced at his watch as he descended the stairs. Right on schedule. At the same moment, Esther stepped into the foyer, helping Betty with her backpack.
"You're leaving now?" Esther asked, adjusting the strap over the child's shoulder.
Daniel nodded. "Yes. I figured I could drop you both off at Lovet Academy. It's on the way."
Esther hesitated, glancing at Betty. "Oh… that's kind of you, but we can take a cab."
"Nonsense," Daniel said, his tone firm but not unkind. "It makes sense. Come on."
Before Esther could respond, Betty was already making her way outside, skipping slightly with the confidence of someone who knew exactly what she was doing.
As the sleek black car pulled up, the driver opened the door, but Betty quickly reached for the front passenger seat and slid in with a triumphant grin.
Esther blinked. "Betty"
"I called shotgun!" Betty declared, fastening her seatbelt.
Esther leaned in, her voice coaxing. "Come on, sweetheart. Why don't you sit in the back so I can keep you company?"
"Nope," Betty said sweetly, eyes wide with innocence. "I want to see the road today. You sit in the back, or… with Daddy."
Daniel raised an eyebrow, amusement flickering in his eyes. "Well, looks like the lady has made her choice."
Esther shot Betty a playful glare but opened the passenger door anyway. She slid in beside Daniel, her fingers brushing briefly against his as she settled in.
"Sorry," she mumbled, her cheeks warming as she stared ahead.
"No need to apologize," Daniel said, his voice low and composed. "She's getting clever."
"Too clever," Esther muttered.
Betty giggled from the front seat, clearly pleased with herself.
As the car pulled out of the driveway and into the main road, the silence between Daniel and Esther wasn't awkward, but charged, like something unspoken lingered in the soft rustle of clothes and the rhythmic sound of tires against asphalt.
Esther folded her hands in her lap, her gaze flitting to Daniel's profile.
He was focused on the road, but she noticed the way his jaw clenched slightly, the hint of exhaustion in his eyes, and how his cologne lingered in the air, subtle, masculine, distracting.
"You didn't sleep much, did you?" she asked gently.
Daniel blinked, briefly surprised. "No. Meetings ran late."
She gave a small nod. "Try not to burn out."
His eyes flicked toward her for a second, something softer slipping through the businesslike mask. "I'll try."
From the front seat, Betty smiled quietly to herself.
The quiet hum of the engine filled the car as the city slowly came to life around them, vendors setting up their stalls, students in uniform darting across intersections, the sun rising lazily over the buildings.
Inside the car, time felt slower.
Esther sat with her hands folded neatly on her lap, the space between her and Daniel minimal yet charged with quiet energy. The leather of the seat warmed beneath her, but it was the occasional brush of his sleeve against hers that truly made her aware of how small the space was.
She stole a glance at him from the corner of her eye.
He looked like he always did, sharp, composed, focused. But this close, she noticed the faint stubble on his jaw, the way his brows drew together when the traffic slowed, and the barely-there lines at the corner of his eyes, softened now in the morning light.
She liked looking at him more than she should.
Esther bit her bottom lip and turned her gaze forward, willing herself to behave. You're just his daughter's caregiver. You're not supposed to feel this… fluttery.
And yet, here she was, heart doing somersaults over nothing. Or maybe over everything.
A light breeze drifted in through the slightly cracked window, carrying the scent of his cologne, clean, earthy, and warm. It was subtle, but it wrapped around her senses like an uninvited embrace.
She shifted slightly, crossing one leg over the other to keep herself steady. Her fingers brushed the edge of her skirt, fidgeting as if movement could distract her mind.
Daniel noticed.
"You're quiet," he said, not looking at her. His voice was low, almost too casual.
She managed a smile. "I'm always quiet in the morning."
He chuckled under his breath. "No, you're not. At least not with Betty."
Esther smiled wider, but she didn't look at him. "She's different. She brings out a lot in me."
There was a beat of silence.
"So do you."
The words were so soft, she almost thought she imagined them.
Her breath caught for a moment, eyes flickering to his profile again. But Daniel remained focused on the road, his expression unreadable.
"Thank you… for the ride," she said eventually, needing to fill the silence. Her voice felt small.
"Anytime," he said simply. "It's the least I can do."
Esther stared out the window, her heart beating a little faster than it should. She didn't know if she was imagining the atmosphere between them, if the warmth was mutual or just one-sided. But she didn't dare hope too much. Not yet.
Beside her, Daniel adjusted the steering wheel slightly, his hand brushing the gear as they turned a corner.
Their fingers almost touched. Almost.
And that was enough, for now.
From the front seat, Betty glanced at them through the side mirror, a knowing smile tugging at her lips.
The elevator chimed as it arrived on the executive floor of LewisTech, its doors gliding open with a soft whisper.
Daniel Lewis stepped out, every inch the composed CEO in his dark tailored suit, briefcase in hand, his presence instantly shifting the energy of the hallway. Staff offered polite nods as he passed, his focus sharp, but his eyes caught something… amusing.
Near the glass partition of the executive wing, Dija stood far too close to Thomas, her hand casually resting on the edge of his desk as she laughed at something only she found funny. Thomas, ever the professional, maintained a half-smile, stiff as always, his body subtly angled away from her flirtatious stance.
Daniel slowed as he approached, arching a brow.
"Good morning," he said smoothly.
Thomas straightened. "Good morning, sir."
Dija beamed, tossing a strand of hair over her shoulder. "Morning, Uncle Daniel . You're looking sharp today."
Daniel gave her a knowing smile, a rare thing that lit up his usually unreadable face. Both Thomas and Dija blinked in surprise.
"Dija," he said, voice laced with subtle amusement, "try not to distract my most trusted assistant."
Dija feigned offense, placing a hand dramatically on her chest."Distract? I'm being helpful, sir. I'm his assistant now, remember?" Dija said with a playful tilt of her head.
"You're not," Thomas muttered under his breath.
Dija shot him a sharp glare that shut him up instantly, sweet smile still perfectly in place for Daniel's benefit.
Daniel's smile lingered for just a second longer before he turned toward his office. "Play it slow, Dija. And Thomas… my office. Ten minutes."
"Yes, sir."
Daniel disappeared through the glass doors, and the atmosphere shifted instantly.
Dija leaned in again, this time with a more deliberate softness in her tone. "You heard the man. We've got ten minutes." She grinned. "Time for a coffee break?"
Thomas didn't even look up. "I have work to do."
She pouted. "Come on, Thomas. It's just coffee. I promise I won't flirt."
"That's a lie," he said dryly, still typing.
She chuckled, undeterred. "Okay. Maybe a little. But just ten minutes. Short and decent. No touching, no winking, no distracting conversations about how good you look in suits."
Thomas sighed but still didn't answer.
Just then, the elevator doors opened again, and Sarah walked in, elegant in a fitted blouse and tailored skirt, a folder tucked under her arm. Her heels clicked against the tiled floor with practiced poise as she approached them.
Thomas straightened again, but this time, something changed. His eyes softened. His posture eased. His voice dropped when he greeted her.
"Sarah."
Dija watched the shift with a quiet ache in her chest.
"Is Mr. Lewis in?" Sarah asked, her gaze flicking briefly between the two.
"He is," Thomas replied. "Just stepped in. He asked for me in ten."
Sarah nodded. "Alright. Just checking."
As she turned to for Daniel's office direction, Thomas couldn't help but watch her go, his eyes lingering a little too long, his thoughts clearly no longer on the coffee Dija had suggested.
"She's gone," Dija said, pulling his attention back to her with a sad smile.
Thomas blinked and looked away, adjusting a file on his desk. "Yeah."
Dija leaned her elbows on the desk, tilting her head slightly. "You should just tell her, you know."
He didn't respond at first. When he finally did, his voice was quiet. "I already did."
That caught Dija off guard. "You did?"
He nodded, eyes focused on the desk. "Yes. Two years ago… then again a year ago… and six months ago." He gave a faint shrug. "She turned me down. Every time."
Dija let out a soft laugh, not mocking, but laced with irony. "You tried that many times?" she asked, smiling, genuinely amused by his quiet persistence. "I didn't think you had it in you. You always seemed more married to your job than the idea of love."
Thomas gave a small, almost imperceptible smile, but said nothing.
"Now you know how it feels," Dija added gently, her voice dipping slightly, just enough to hint at something deeper, her own bruised hope, carefully hidden behind humor.
He glanced at her, brow raised.
"To want someone," she added, eyes dropping to the floor, "and not be wanted back."
For once, Thomas didn't have a sharp reply.
The silence between them stretched for a moment, different now. Dija looked away, her smile fading slightly, her usual sparkle dimmed.
Then she stood upright again, brushing imaginary lint off her blouse, restoring her usual confidence.
"Still," she said with a wink, "you could do worse than coffee with me."
And before he could reply, she turned and walked away.
Inside Daniel's office, the door clicked softly shut as Sarah stepped in. Daniel lifted his head from the screen, brow slightly raised in question. He hadn't summoned her, and he was certain there was no item on his schedule requiring her presence.
"Miss Williams," he said, his voice laced with quiet curiosity rather than a warm greeting.
"Good morning, Mr. Lewis," Sarah replied with a bright, confident smile.
"I don't recall calling you in," he said, leaning back in his chair. "And I believe you already sent today's schedule to my inbox last night."
"Yes, I did," she nodded. "But I'm not here about the schedule."
That made him pause. His fingers stilled over the keyboard, eyes narrowing slightly as he gave her his full attention.
"I was wondering," she began carefully, "if maybe you'd join me for coffee… or lunch today."
Daniel blinked once, slowly. "Excuse me?" His tone hardened, brows furrowing. "Miss Williams, are you feeling alright?"
"I'm sorry for being so direct, sir," she said, voice softer now. "But today is my birthday. And it would really mean a lot to share a meal with you."
She lied smoothly, a strategic move born from frustration. Years of waiting, of playing her cards just right, hadn't gotten her closer to his heart. It was time to raise the stakes.
Daniel exhaled sharply through his nose, unimpressed. "My best wishes, Miss Williams, but I'm far too tied up today to fulfill that wish of yours."
He had seen too many ambitious women to miss the game she was playing.
Sarah didn't falter. "I understand, sir. But this isn't just a wish, it's a right."
His eyes lifted again, this time sharper, laced with irritation. "A right?"
"You promised," she said with calm insistence. "Six months ago. You said if I managed to get the Bendu investors to agree to a second meeting, I could make one request. And I did. I brought them back."
Daniel leaned back in his chair, jaw tightening. The memory returned, he had said that. At the time, the Bendu investors had been ready to walk, and he'd been desperate. It was a throwaway line, meant to push her toward a goal.
But Daniel Lewis was a man of his word.
He sighed, rubbing his temple before replying, "Fine. I'll have Thomas send you the lunch details."
"Yes!" Sarah said, a little too eagerly. "It's a date then."
"It is not," Daniel corrected sternly. "It's a professional lunch to honor a promise. Nothing more."
"Of course," she said, undeterred, already halfway out the door. "I'll wait on the details."
She stepped out with a satisfied smile. He could call it whatever he wanted. She had her foot in the door. And once she got through, she wasn't leaving without the title of Mrs. Lewis.
Not even her sister, Esther would stand in her way.
As the door closed behind her, Thomas entered from the opposite side.
"Sir," he greeted.
Daniel glanced up briefly.
"Miss Williams looked… rather pleased," Thomas said, tone light but eyes too curious. "Did you give her a raise?"
Daniel's reply was flat. "No. Book a restaurant. I'm having lunch with her."
Thomas stilled, the file in his hands tightening slightly in his grip. His stomach twisted. He kept his expression neutral, though inside, something bruised and bitter settled in his chest.
"Yes, sir," he said quietly.
He knew Sarah. Knew the games she played. Knew exactly how far she'd go.
But no matter how much logic told him to walk away, his heart refused to stop wanting her.
At the far end of LewisTech's sleek marketing department, Dija made her way past the buzzing workstations until she reached Harriet's desk. Her shoulders slumped dramatically as she collapsed into the visitor's chair, releasing an exaggerated groan.
"Someone's having a rough morning," Harriet said, pulling her hands off the keyboard and giving Dija a once-over. "What happened to you? You look like a train wreck."
"Thomas happened," Dija muttered, slouching deeper into the seat. "He's like a human fortress, nothing gets through. No charm, no flirt, no heartfelt glances. I've tried everything. He just won't let me storm into that stone-cold heart."
Harriet laughed, the sound ringing with amusement. "Oh girl… you make heartbreak sound like a battlefield."
Dija turned to her, brows raised. "Really? That's your response?"
"Sorry, but you do sound funny," Harriet said, chuckling again. "You won't win him over by bulldozing your way in. Especially not the way you're doing it."
"My strategies are well-planned, okay? Perfectly aligned. The real issue is that… colleague of his."
Harriet blinked once. She didn't need a name to know who Dija meant. "Sarah?"
"Exactly. He's so into her, Harriet. Like, deep into her. I can see it in the way he looks at her, different, softer. How am I supposed to write my love story if she's constantly stealing the spotlight?"
Harriet leaned back slightly, her tone changing. "That's just Sarah for you."
"You say that like you know her," Dija said, studying Harriet's face. "Are you two close or something?"
Harriet gave a half-smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "We were… once. Not anymore. Let's just say we've gone our separate ways."
Dija tilted her head, curiosity piqued.
"She helped me get this job, actually," Harriet admitted. "Without her, I probably wouldn't even be sitting here. So for that, I'm grateful. Really. But we've never been truly close, and after everything, I don't want to be."
"She sounds pretty nice," Dija said, half to herself. "That would explain Thomas's obsession."
Harriet shook her head. "Oh, that's far from the truth."
Dija raised a brow. "You make her sound… dangerous."
Harriet hesitated for a beat, then sighed. "To be honest, I forced her into helping me. Back then, I was desperate. And she knew it. She gave me what I needed, but it came with strings, unspoken ones. Since then, I've made a choice. I'm done with that past. Done with secrets. I just want a clean start. Which means staying far away from Sarah Williams."
Dija leaned forward, intrigued now. "You really think she's capable of…?"
"Let me be blunt," Harriet cut in, voice low and firm. "Sarah can, and will do anything to get what she wants. She's calculated, Dija. The kind of woman who always has a Plan B… and C. She's not someone you want to underestimate. Or get in the way of."
Dija's eyes lingered on her for a moment, absorbing the warning.
"Noted," she finally said. But even then, her thoughts spun restlessly, lingering not just on Harriet's warning, but on the weight of the unspoken.
What secrets had Harriet been hinting at? What did she know that made Sarah agree to help her land this job?
Ther
But Dija shook the thoughts away with a sigh. She wasn't here to dig into other people's skeletons. She had her own mission.
She was here to win the heart of the man she loved.
And she wasn't backing down.
It was just around eleven to twelve in the morning, and the children were on their break. Esther had taken Betty to the school cafeteria for lunch.
They sat at one of the smaller tables near the corner, where it was quieter. Esther pulled out the lunch box she'd prepared earlier that morning and set it in front of Betty with a warm smile.
"Hmm, smells good," Esther said playfully, trying to motivate her.
"You're acting again," Betty typed quickly on her tablet.
"And you're getting smarter by the day," Esther replied, cupping her cheeks gently.
"Stop it. I'm not a baby," came the robotic voice from Betty's device as she made a mock frown.
"You'll always be my baby," Esther teased, standing up. "Let me get you some water, I forgot to pack a bottle."
She turned and headed toward the vending machine, but just as she left, an all-too-familiar figure appeared beside Betty's table.
It was Jariatu, Betty's aunt, and by her side stood her daughter, Laila.
"I see you're enjoying your life," Jariatu sneered, her voice sharp. "Must feel good knowing you're responsible for two deaths. Murderer."
Betty froze. Her fingers slipped, the spoon fell from her hand. Her eyes welled with tears, the word murderer ringing in her head like a cursed echo.
"You shouldn't be happy. You shouldn't even be alive," Jariatu continued coldly.
Before she could say more, Esther stormed back, already recognizing that poisonous voice.
"You again," she said, anger rising like a tide. Their last encounter had ended in a police station, and Esther hadn't forgotten a second of it. "What do you want this time?"
Jariatu folded her arms. "Daniel really got himself a loyal dog," she sneered. "But no matter what you do, you can't erase the fact that girl is cursed. She took her mother's life, and my son's too."
Esther's eyes flashed dangerously. "Mrs. Jalloh, I strongly advise you to watch your words. I'm not exactly known for my patience, and you're very familiar with that, aren't you?"
She took a deliberate step forward, and Jariatu instinctively moved back, remembering the slap Esther had landed on her three months ago.
"I don't have time for you," Jariatu hissed, straightening herself with faux dignity. She was only there to withdraw her daughter Laila from the school, she couldn't stand the thought of her child attending the same school as the girl she blamed for her son's death.
As she turned and walked away, Esther immediately knelt beside Betty, who was trembling with silent tears.
"Are you okay?" she asked gently, wiping Betty's cheeks. "Don't listen to her. She's bitter and broken and cruel. You didn't cause your mother's death. You loved her, and she loved you."
Betty typed with trembling fingers.
"No, I did, Esther."
"No, you didn't. Tell me, did you know that accident was going to happen?"
"No."
"Did you mean any harm by calling your mom that day?"
"No. I just wanted her to help me open my water bottle."
"Exactly." Esther's voice softened. "It was just a tragic accident, sunflower. If you had known what would happen, would you have called her?"
"No."
"Then there's your answer. You didn't cause anything, sweetheart. You loved her. She would never want you to carry this weight, to stop yourself from speaking, from living."
Betty hesitated. Then typed again.
"But what if I hurt someone else? What if I hurt you… or Dad… or Aunt Bell?"
Esther reached for her hand, squeezing it gently.
"But what if you don't? What if your voice saves me? Or your dad? Or someone else in the future? Your voice is special, Betty. I think it's time to stop punishing yourself. Let the past go. Please. Just start living again."
Silence hung in the air for a few moments. Then Esther gently wiped away Betty's tears and helped her to her feet.
"You know what?" she smiled. "Let's go get some ice cream. That should help ease some of this stress."
And hand-in-hand, they walked out of the cafeteria, leaving behind the hurt and clinging, step by step, to healing.
The ice cream parlor sat just across from the school a small, cheerful spot with colorful umbrellas and the soft jingle of music drifting from its speakers. Esther and Betty sat on a bench outside, each with a cone in hand. Betty had gone with strawberry swirl, and though her appetite was faint, she licked at it slowly, finding a small comfort in its sweetness.
Esther leaned back, smiling faintly. "See? Told you ice cream helps," she said, glancing at Betty's sticky fingers.
Betty nodded slightly. She hadn't spoken again, not yet, but her eyes were brighter, lighter. There was progress. Healing. Hope.
Across the road, a black SUV idled in the school's parking lot. Inside, Jariatu sat stiffly behind the wheel, her fingers white-knuckled around the steering. Laila sat beside her, nervously fidgeting with her phone.
Jariatu's eyes locked on Betty.
There she was, that girl, smiling. Eating ice cream. Alive.
And in that moment, the image of her son's lifeless body flashed through her mind, again and again. His cold skin. His empty eyes. The machines that couldn't bring him back.
Something snapped.
Without a word, Jariatu slammed her foot on the gas and turned the wheel.
The SUV lurched forward.
Laila screamed. "Mom! What are you doing?!"
On the other side of the road, Esther turned just in time to see the car speeding toward them.
"Betty!" she shouted.
She dropped her ice cream and lunged, pushing Betty with all her strength. The girl stumbled and fell out of the car's path.
But Esther, Esther wasn't fast enough.
The SUV struck her with a brutal thud, sending her body sprawling onto the pavement like a ragdoll. The sound of screeching tires and shattering screams filled the air.
Betty sat frozen. For a split second, her body wouldn't move. Her eyes locked on Esther, who now lay motionless on the ground.
Blood trickled down her forehead.
"Esther…?" Betty's lips trembled. She reached for her tablet.
But no, something surged inside her. A force stronger than fear. Stronger than silence.
Tears welled in her eyes as she stumbled toward the street.
"Esther!" Betty screamed, her voice raw, cracking through the air like thunder.
It was the first time in years. The voice no one thought they'd hear again.
People turned. The world seemed to freeze around her.
She scrambled to Esther's side, her tiny hands trembling as they reached for her.
"Please wake up! Esther, it's me—Betty! I talked! I spoke! Just like you wanted!" she cried, clutching Esther's arm.
But Esther didn't move.
Her eyes remained shut. Blood trickled from her forehead. Her chest, if rising at all, was too faint to see.
"No, no, no, please! Don't leave me!" Betty sobbed, her voice growing louder with each word, her body shaking.
"I'm sorry, I should have talked sooner, I should have said something, just please wake up!"
Still, nothing.
Just the cold pavement. Just the echo of her voice.
And the sound of distant sirens, rushing in too slow.