When the bidding resumed, Daniel played along. He sat still, calm, and sharp-eyed, his hand casually lifting the numbered card.
"Five million," came Sankoh's voice from the back.
Daniel raised an eyebrow, then lifted his hand with quiet confidence. "Five point five."
Sankoh smirked, accepting the challenge. "Six million."
The room went quiet for a second, all eyes bouncing between the two men locked in an unspoken duel.
But Daniel didn't respond.
Seconds ticked by. Still, nothing. Sankoh's smirk faded slightly into confusion. He leaned forward. "Wait, you're not going to outbid me?"
Daniel offered a mild, knowing smile. "No."
Sankoh's brows creased. "You came all this way to the black market, fought your way in, and now you just let me win? Why?"
Daniel said nothing. His silence was louder than any words. He merely looked at Sankoh with a tight smirk, a flicker of warning behind his eyes.
"Congratulations," Daniel said finally. "You're the highest bidder."
Something in his tone unsettled Sankoh. "You're this pleased I won your prototype? What's going on, Daniel?"
"You won it fair and square," Daniel replied. "No hard feelings. Right?"
Sankoh stared at him, suspicious. "Right…"
"Mr. Sankoh, this way please," one of the auction coordinators gestured.
Sankoh stood, eyes still narrowed on Daniel, the smile gone from his lips.
Daniel watched him walk away, then stood himself. But instead of following the crowd out, he turned and slipped into the restricted back corridors of the auction house.
There, seated behind a desk encased in bulletproof glass and surrounded by armed men, was Gara, the infamous kingpin of the underground tech trade.
"I knew you'd show up," Gara said with a dry chuckle. "To what do I owe this honor?"
Daniel didn't bother with pleasantries. "I want the information of the person who brought in the prototype."
Gara leaned back, casually swirling a drink in his hand. "We don't do that, Lewis. You know the rules. We sell, we don't trace. And even if we do, we definitely don't tell."
Daniel stepped closer, voice dropping. "Then it's time you return the favor."
Gara's fingers stilled on the rim of his glass. He knew exactly what favor Daniel meant. Two years ago, when rival gangs were hunting him down, it was Daniel who smuggled his wife and son out of the country to safety. Gara had promised, sworn, he'd repay him if the time ever came.
Daniel's stare was steel. "This is that time."
Gara sighed. The grin fell away.
"All right," he said quietly. "All I have is a name. Brima. He's the one who brought it in. That's all I've got."
Daniel nodded once. "That's enough."
Without another word, he turned and exited the den of criminals, Thomas silently falling into step beside him.
But they didn't return home.
Daniel climbed into the back of the SUV, gaze steely and distant. "Take me to the central prison."
Thomas glanced at him through the rearview mirror. "Fatmata?"
Daniel's jaw clenched. "It's time we talk."
The cold, sterile air of the central prison clung to Daniel's skin as he sat quietly in the visitor's chamber, his fingers drumming lightly on the table. The fluorescent lights overhead buzzed faintly, casting a dull yellow glow across the concrete walls. He didn't speak, didn't move, his eyes fixed on the steel door in front of him.
Moments later, it groaned open.
An officer stepped in, leading Fatmata in shackles. She wore a plain orange jumpsuit, her hair tucked back in a tight bun. Her face was blank, unreadable, her eyes avoiding his as she was guided to the seat across from him. When she sat, her cuffs clinked against the table.
Daniel leaned forward slightly. "I came here for one thing," he said, voice low and even. "The truth."
Fatmata didn't respond.
He studied her carefully. "You've been silent this whole time. But maybe you'll speak now. Tell me… are you ready to give me the name of the person who ordered you to steal the prototype?"
Still, nothing.
Her lips remained sealed, but her jaw twitched, just slightly. He caught it.
"You know what I don't understand?" he went on, folding his hands in front of him. "Why, if your job was to steal the prototype… the one you handed over was fake."
That made her eyes lift, just a flicker. Not surprise, but acknowledgement.
"I saw what they were bidding on," Daniel continued, his voice sharpening. "That wasn't the real NeuroSpeech unit. Which means… either you were sloppy, or you had a change of heart. So which is it?"
For a long time, silence hung between them. Then, finally, she spoke, her voice soft, almost fragile.
"I was part of that project too."
Daniel narrowed his eyes. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"I worked on it," she said. "Late nights. Long hours. Watching Ibrahim and Alie pour everything they had into making it work. We all gave something to that project. Even me."
Daniel stared at her, unconvinced. "Then why sabotage it? Why crash the system and leak the data? Why risk everything?"
Her eyes met his now, steady but tired. "Because I didn't have a choice."
"There's always a choice."
"Not when the people behind you are powerful enough to destroy your family if you refuse." Her voice cracked, just faintly, before she composed herself again. "I had to do it. But I couldn't give them the real thing. I knew what they planned to use it for, how it could be exploited. They weren't interested in helping people who can't speak. They wanted to rewire it, resell it, twist it into something dangerous."
"So you gave them a fake," Daniel said, voice cooling.
She nodded faintly.
"You crashed the system, made us think it was all lost, just to protect the real version?"
"I couldn't let them win," she whispered. "Not completely."
Daniel sat back in his chair, trying to make sense of it. "Then help me stop them. Tell me who you're working for."
Fatmata shook her head slowly, her expression closing off again. "I've said too much already."
Frustration flickered across Daniel's face. "So you'd rather rot in here protecting them? After everything they made you do?"
She didn't answer.
Daniel stood, the metal legs of his chair screeching against the floor. He looked down at her, conflicted, anger warring with a reluctant flicker of respect. She'd betrayed them all, yes… but somewhere in the middle of her treachery, she had also tried to protect what they built.
"You gave them a fake," he said quietly, "but it still doesn't erase the damage you caused."
Fatmata looked up at him, pain simmering behind her tired eyes. "I know."
Without another word, Daniel turned and left the room. The door slammed shut behind him, echoing through the hallway as he walked away.
Thomas was waiting outside, leaning against the prison wall.
"She say anything?" he asked.
Daniel didn't answer right away. He exhaled, his breath visible in the cold night air. "She gave them a decoy."
Thomas's eyes widened slightly. "You sure?"
Daniel gave a single nod. "She still won't name who's behind it. But she made one thing clear, they were planning to use NeuroSpeech for something far worse than we imagined."
Thomas frowned. "What now?"
Daniel's jaw tightened. "Now we go after the only lead we have."
He pulled out his phone and stared at the name he had gotten from Gara.
Brima.
Whoever he was, he was the next piece of the puzzle.
And Daniel wasn't stopping until every last one of them fell.
It was nearing ten in the evening when Daniel finally arrived at his estate. The living room was quiet, empty save for the butler who stood waiting to assist him with his coat and briefcase.
"Welcome home, sir," the butler said softly, taking the items from Daniel's tired hands.
Daniel nodded, barely uttering a word. The weight of the day clung to his shoulders like a second skin. He loosened his tie as he walked toward the bar cabinet and poured himself a glass of scotch, neat. The ice would only dull the edge he needed to feel.
"How's Miss Cole ?" he asked without turning around.
The butler, startled by the sudden question, straightened. "Resting, sir. Lady Bell checked on her not long ago. She's asleep now."
Daniel exhaled slowly, the tension in his jaw easing just a bit. After a sip of scotch, he set the glass down and ran a hand through his hair.
"I'll check on her," he murmured, more to himself than to the butler, and headed for the stairs.
The hallway lights dimmed automatically as he made his way down the corridor toward the guest room. At the door, he paused, his hand on the knob. A soft light glowed under the frame, and for a second, he just stood there, listening, waiting for some sign of her stirring. Nothing.
He opened the door quietly.
Just then, the bathroom door creaked open, and Esther stepped out, wrapped in a soft robe, her damp hair cascading over her shoulders in loose curls. She froze mid-step, startled, her hand instinctively clutching the robe at her chest as her eyes met his.
"Mr. Lewis," she breathed, surprised.
"I didn't mean to startle you," Daniel said, his voice low, almost apologetic. His eyes lingered a moment too long before he looked away. "I was just… checking in. Wanted to make sure you're alright."
Esther nodded, steadying her breath. "I'm fine. I just… needed to talk to you."
He stepped into the room fully, the door falling shut behind him with a soft click. "What is it?" he asked, calm but cautious. After their conversation that morning, he feared she might be more hurt than she'd let on.
"I know we signed a one-year contract, and it's only been eight months," she began, her voice steady but soft, "but Betty has regained her voice. She's doing much better now. I don't think she needs me anymore." She paused, the weight of her next words sitting heavily on her chest. "I was thinking… maybe it's time I returned home."
Daniel's expression faltered. "Miss Cole, I want you to really think this through. Don't let our conversation this morning influence your decision.."
"I have thought it through, sir," Esther interrupted gently but firmly. "My role here is complete. There's no reason for me to stay."
"But Betty still needs you," he protested, though deep down he wasn't sure if he meant his daughter… or himself. "She's not ready for you to leave."
"I'm sorry," Esther said, her voice faltering for the first time. "But I can't… I don't think I can keep living under the same roof as you." Her eyes didn't meet his. "You were right. I crossed a line, and I'm truly sorry. I just want to make things right."
Her words pierced him, each one like a cold blade, leaving a sting he hadn't prepared for. Her eyes, once open and warm, were now guarded, distant.
"Miss Cole…"
"And… my sister and mother will be returning in two weeks," she added quickly. "I don't want my mother finding out I've been staying at another man's house. You know how that would look."
Daniel stared at her, absorbing each word. He had drawn the line, yes. But now, watching her emotionally detach, he realized how much that line was costing him.
"I'll talk to Betty," Esther continued. "I'll explain everything. She'll understand… eventually. Please, sir."
Her eyes finally met his. Pain swirled in their depths, but also resolve. She had made up her mind.
Daniel swallowed hard, pushing back everything he wanted to say but couldn't. "When do you plan to leave?"
"Tomorrow," she replied.
Daniel closed the door gently behind him, the soft click echoing louder than it should have in the still hallway.
Tomorrow.
The word rang in his head like a verdict, final, irreversible. His feet moved on their own down the corridor toward his room, but his mind was rooted back in hers, where she stood wrapped in silence and pain, already halfway gone.
He had expected tension after that morning, awkwardness, maybe even anger. But not this. Not her calm resolution. Not her quiet goodbye masked as formality.
She hadn't raised her voice. She hadn't begged. She had simply chosen to walk away.
And he was letting her.
When he entered his room, he stood still in the center for a moment, hands clenched at his sides. The space suddenly felt colder. Emptier. He loosened his tie and tossed it aside, but the pressure in his chest only grew tighter.
Why did it hurt this much?
He had told himself, no, convinced himself, that keeping distance was the right thing to do. Out of loyalty to his late wife. Out of fear. Out of responsibility. And yet, here he was, reaping the consequences of a line he had drawn far too late. Esther hadn't just crossed it, she had fallen, and he had done nothing to catch her.
Now she was rising on her own, choosing dignity over pain, and he was being left behind.
Daniel sat on the edge of his bed, elbows resting on his knees, his hands raking through his hair. He tried to reason with himself, to remind himself this was for the best. That she deserved more than being caught in the shadows of his past.
But all he could think about was the way she wouldn't look at him.
The way her voice broke when she said, "I just want to fix things."
He didn't want her to go. God help him, he didn't. But she was right. She had fulfilled her part of the deal. And now, she was choosing to leave before her heart shattered beyond repair.
He had pushed her to this.
And now, for the first time in years, Daniel Lewis, confident, calculated, composed, didn't know what the hell to do.