Esther melted into him, her arms wrapping around his neck as if anchoring herself to the moment.
Time slowed, the night air thick with everything they'd left unsaid, everything now spoken in that kiss, the regret, the hope, the love.
When they finally parted, their foreheads rested together, eyes closed, hearts racing in unison.
The fairytale had just begun.
But fairytales rarely come without interruption.
A discreet cough broke through the stillness.
They turned.
Thomas stood at the edge of the garden path, dressed in a crisp suit that didn't quite hide the tension in his shoulders. His gaze darted quickly between them before settling, professionally, on Daniel.
"I'm sorry to interrupt," he said carefully, "but I thought you'd want to hear this right away."
Esther stepped back, smoothing down the fabric of her dress, her breath still uneven. "I should get back inside," she said softly, her eyes meeting Daniel's one last time, filled with warmth, and promise.
Daniel gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "I'll be with you soon," he murmured.
Esther nodded, her lips curved in a soft smile before she turned and walked back toward the glow and hum of the party, leaving Daniel and Thomas alone in the hush of the garden.
Thomas waited until she disappeared from view, then stepped closer. His voice dropped.
"John's gone, sir," he said, eyes fixed on his polished shoes, jaw tense. "He slipped through the borders."
They had been tracking John for weeks, tightening every possible exit, placing a bounty on his head, but somehow, he'd still managed to vanish.
Daniel's shoulders stiffened. "He used the roads," he muttered, more a statement of realization than a question. He'd focused so heavily on airport surveillance, he'd underestimated the most basic route. He'd gotten complacent.
That was his fault.
Damn it.
Thomas continued, "We suspect he crossed into Guinea. We've already contacted the local authorities. They've agreed to detain him the moment he's spotted."
But Daniel knew it wouldn't be that simple.
If John had made it across the border, he wasn't alone. Someone with influence, someone powerful, was helping him hide. This wasn't just an escape; it was a calculated extraction.
No matter where he ran, Daniel would find him. And this time, the chase would end for good.
Meanwhile, inside the party…
Esther was surrounded by warmth and laughter, guests offering well-wishes and compliments as music drifted through the hall. She smiled graciously, thanking them, until Dija pulled her aside with barely contained excitement.
"Okay, spill," Dija demanded, dragging her toward a quieter corner near the dessert table. "I saw you two sneak out. What happened?"
Esther bit her lip, trying not to grin too wide. "Well," she said, voice laced with joy, "we're officially together."
Dija let out a gasp, followed by a dramatic sigh of relief. "Yes, finally! I was starting to think one of you would die stubborn and single."
Esther laughed, cheeks glowing. "Our efforts?" she teased.
"Of course!" Dija flipped her hair. "The plotting, the pep talks, the wardrobe advice? You're welcome."
They both burst into laughter, the kind that came from shared history and heartfelt hope. In that moment, under the shimmering lights of the party, joy reigned, unaware of the storm still brewing just within the walls.
Upstairs, cloaked in shadow, Sarah stood at the edge of the upper balcony, hidden behind the velvet curtain.
She watched with narrowed eyes, fingers curled tightly around the balustrade as her gaze locked on the girl in the center of it all ,Esther, radiant in her fairytale dress, glowing under the grand chandelier as guests mingled around her with laughter and praise.
That should've been her moment.
Her light.
Her man.
A sharp breath slipped from her lips as her fingers inserted a small metallic device into the slot behind the curtain, a timed release she'd memorized during the days the decorators were setting up.
She couldn't be blamed. Not really. She had planned this night for over a week, and now everything was falling into place.
If she couldn't make Daniel love her… then perhaps she could remove what stood in the way.
Whatever happened, Esther would only have herself to blame, for daring to take what should have been hers.
A slow, satisfied smile curled on Sarah's lips as she stepped back into the shadows.
Down below, Esther stood beneath the chandelier, chatting with Dija and another guest, unaware of the silent weight hanging above her.
Then
A metallic creak. A shifting chain. A groan of old bolts.
"Watch out!" someone shouted from across the room.
Esther's head snapped up, instinct taking over.
In the next breath, the massive, glittering chandelier broke free.
It plunged downward, a cascade of crystal and steel, and screams erupted as guests scattered in every direction.
Esther stumbled back just in time, instinct overriding thought. But the edge of the chandelier clipped her ankle, and crystal shards exploded across the marble floor as the structure crashed down with a thunderous boom.
People scattered. Panic surged.
Gasps. Shouts. Someone fainted.
In the chaos, Zianab pushed through the crowd, her voice rising above the panic as she screamed her sister's name. Musu followed close behind, breathless, heart in her throat.
But just as she reached the fallen chandelier, her eyes instinctively lifted, searching for sense in the madness.
And that's when she saw her.
Sarah.
Standing at the edge of the upper balcony.
Frozen.
Watching.
A flicker of confusion crossed Musu's face. Then, shock. Recognition. Horror.
What was she doing here?
Hadn't she called in sick? Said she was staying home?
No.
Something inside Musu shifted. A terrible realization beginning to take root.
Before anyone could react further, the doors flew open and Daniel stormed in, already moving toward the fallen chandelier.
"Esther!" His voice cracked.
She was conscious, teeth gritted against the pain, dress torn at the hem and a thin trail of blood seeping from her foot.
Without hesitation, he knelt and swept her into his arms.
"I've got you," he whispered, holding her tight.
She clung to him, dazed but alive.
The crowd parted as Daniel carried her out, urgency in his every step. Behind them, Dija followed, calling for help.
Over an hour later, at the hospital, the tension had finally begun to ease. After a battery of tests and repeated assurances from the doctor that Esther was stable, with no internal injuries, just a deep bruise and mild laceration to her foot, Daniel insisted on taking her home himself.
Out at the front door of the Cole household, Daniel stood along with Esther who seek the help of a clutch.
"You should get some rest," Daniel said gently, his voice low, almost apologetic. "I'm really sorry for how the night turned out. This isn't how I planned it."
Esther gave him a small smile, her gaze dropping briefly to her bandaged foot.
"I know… and it's not your fault. It was an accident," she replied softly. "Besides, the doctors said I'm fine, I just need to rest."
"I'll have a doctor stop by in the morning to check on you, just in case," he added.
She rolled her eyes, though the warmth in her expression remained. "Mr. Lewis, we've talked about this," she said, playfully stern. "I've had about a dozen scans and checks. I'll be fine. My ankle will probably heal by morning. You should go, Betty's probably waiting for you."
Daniel didn't reply immediately. Instead, he stepped closer and wrapped her gently in a hug, his arms careful not to press too tightly. Then he leaned in and placed a soft kiss on her forehead.
"You take care, alright? Don't strain your leg too much."
Esther laughed lightly. "I won't. Now stop worrying so much, and go," she said, nodding toward the car parked just outside.
At that moment, Zianab stepped out onto the porch, her voice calm and reassuring.
"Okay, I can take it from here now. She's in safe hands," she said, reaching for Esther's hand with a comforting squeeze.
Daniel gave a reluctant nod. "Right… good night then."
He lingered for a heartbeat longer, then turned and climbed into his car, the engine humming softly as he pulled away.
Zianab watched the taillights fade before turning back to her sister with a small smile. "He's gone. Now let's get you inside."
Later that night, as the house quieted and Zianab settled Esther into bed, Musu sat alone on the verandah, her hands folded in her lap, unmoving.
Her mind replayed the moment again and again, the glittering chandelier giving way, the screams, the sickening crash, and then..Sarah.
Frozen at the balcony above, caught in the glow of the stage lights, just long enough for Musu to see her.
But she had called in sick. Hadn't she?
What were you doing there, Sarah? her mind whispered. Why lie?
Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the front gate creaking open. Sarah stepped in, still dressed in the same clothes she saw her in at the party, a cool breeze trailing in behind her.
Musu rose slowly from her seat, eyes sharp, voice even.
"Where have you been?" she asked.
Sarah blinked, startled but composed. "I just… went out for some air," she replied, brushing invisible dust from her sleeve.
Musu studied her. "But you called in sick this afternoon . Said you weren't feeling well."
A pause. "Why go out?"
"I felt better," Sarah answered quickly. "Didn't want to stay cooped up inside all day."
Musu didn't respond right away. She simply watched her daughter's face, the flicker in her eyes, the practiced calm. Then:
"By any chance," Musu said slowly, her voice dropping just above a whisper, "you didn't attend your sister's birthday party today… did you?"
Sarah's response was immediate, her tone firm. "No. I wasn't there."
But as she turned away, a flicker of unease gripped her.
Why is she asking me these questions?
Did she see me?
No… impossible.
She had stayed hidden in the shadows, out of sight.
There was no way she had been seen.
Right?
Silence stretched between them, heavy and brittle.
But Musu knew what she saw.
She had seen her daughter at the balcony.
Clear as day.
Still, she said nothing.
What would come of it if she pressed further? What mother wants to believe her child capable of something so cruel?
What justice could possibly be worth shattering the image of her daughter forever?
So, with effort, Musu let out a breath and looked away.
"Alright," she said quietly. "Go get some rest."
Sarah nodded, relieved, or pretending to be, and turned to toward her room.
As her footsteps faded down the hall, Musu sat back down, staring into the night.
The doubt wouldn't leave her.
The image wouldn't fade.
But for now, she kept it buried.
After all, she was her daughter.
And some suspicions… were too heavy to speak aloud.
The following morning met Daniel in an investors meeting. The floor-to-ceiling glass windows bathed the private conference hall in natural light, but the atmosphere inside was anything but casual. Security had doubled at every entrance. International flags lined one corner of the room. Cameras were off. Phones had been collected.
At the center of it all stood Daniel Lewis, composed, sharp in a dark navy suit, every inch the visionary executive.
To his left sat Ibrahim and Alie, the lead minds behind the NeuroSpeech technology. On his right, Thomas, ready with briefing files and real-time data.
Across from them, seated in leather chairs with nameplates in front of them, were a curated group of elite invitees. The Prime Minister of the country, in a charcoal agbada, his eyes unreadable, Madam Kyung, a South Korean biotech mogul, Mr. Anders, a Swedish neurologist and investor, Sheikh Hamdan, a tech patron from the UAE with a known interest in neural prosthetics.
An assistant dimmed the lights. The screen behind Daniel flickered on.
He stepped forward. "Ladies and gentlemen. What you're about to see isn't just a product. It's a breakthrough. A new language. For the voiceless."
A hush followed. On cue, the glass door slid open.
A boy walked in, no more than ten, wearing a sleek black headset. It was the Prime Minister's son. He stopped at the podium, eyes flicking nervously toward his father, then toward Daniel.
Daniel gave a slight nod of encouragement. "Whenever you're ready."
The room fell into a hush as the boy was led to the center of the demonstration space.
Sitting calmly, he gave a small nod as the assistant secured the device, a slender, curved strip barely the width of a pen cap, to the side of his temple. Matte and skin-toned, it looked like nothing more than an accessory. Nothing clunky. Nothing invasive.
Just a whisper of science resting against his skin.
Tucked just beneath his ear was the second component, a near-invisible earbud, no larger than a fingernail, designed to capture the synthesized voice generated by his neural signals. Sleek. Silent. Revolutionary.
Daniel stepped forward, his voice calm. "This is the NeuroSpeech Communicator. Engineered to restore voices to the voiceless, not through surgery, not through screens, but through seamless neural interpretation."
He turned to the boy.
"Ready?."
The boy touched the side of the headpiece. A tiny blue light blinked once. Then silence, for a heartbeat.
And then it came. From the earbud, a clear, steady voice echoed into the microphone.
"Hello. My name is Omar. I can speak now?." The words came out more like a disbelief than a question.
Gasps rippled through the audience.
Not just because the device worked, but because it was so effortless. No wires. No awkward controls. No need for translation apps or computer screens.
Just a boy. And his voice.
At that moment, hearing his son's words come to life through the voice of technology, a wave of joy surged through the Prime Minister's chest. His eyes shimmered with tears, and he fought to keep them from falling, overwhelmed by the miracle unfolding before him.
Alie began explaining the core neural-to-speech translation interface. Ibrahim discussed how real-time calibration allowed the AI to learn each user's unique mental cadence. But the audience was hardly listening to the tech, they were watching the boy.
The room still hums with applause as high-ranking guests break into smaller circles. Champagne flutes clink softly. Thomas stands nearby, flanked by Ibrahim and Alie from the development team, while Daniel navigates the sea of handshakes and veiled offers.
The first to approach was Mr. Bako, the sharp-suited executive from West African Telecom. He clapped Daniel on the back with the easy confidence of an old acquaintance.
"Brilliant. Just brilliant," Bako said, eyes still fixed on the demonstration stage. "The NeuroSpeech system's interface is clean, scalable, efficient. Listen, Daniel… I want this launched through my network. No middlemen. Sierra Leone and beyond. We go exclusive."
Daniel offered a diplomatic smile, his voice calm but firm. "You've always been direct, Bako , I respect that. But we're not offering exclusivity. Access will be merit-based and strategically distributed."
Bako chuckled, clearly undeterred. "Merit's a flexible term, my friend. You'll see my proposal soon , just make sure it finds its way to the top of your stack."
No sooner had Bako stepped away than another figure emerged from the crowd, Claire Lefèvre, a poised delegate from the French Ministry of MedTech. With a polished smile and practiced grace, she extended her hand.
"Mr. Lewis, your technology…" she began, her voice smooth with conviction, "it's precisely what our rehabilitation clinics have been waiting for. If you'd consider a public-private partnership with France, we can fast-track NeuroSpeech integration across Europe."
Daniel returned her smile, measured and cordial. "I appreciate the enthusiasm, Claire. We're currently drafting our global rollout strategy. Let's schedule a meeting next week to explore a pilot program, I'd be happy to hear your proposal."
Midway through his discussion with Claire, a commanding voice interrupted.
"Mr. Lewis."
Daniel turned to see Khalid Al-Zahir, Special Envoy from the Saudi Arabian Ministry of Health, approach with deliberate steps and a firm gaze. Claire offered a polite smile and nod before quietly stepping aside.
"The Kingdom," Khalid continued smoothly, "is prepared to fully fund your expansion across the Gulf, medical integration, clinical trials, and royal endorsement. In return, we request Phase 2 testing rights and early access to the NeuroSpeech system."
Daniel held his expression steady, offering only a flat smile. "Phase 2 isn't up for distribution yet," he replied, keeping his tone professional but guarded.
Khalid didn't flinch. "Everything has a price, Mr. Lewis."
Daniel's smile deepened slightly, businesslike yet cool. "And integrity is ours. We'll consider your offer, within reason."
From the edge of the room, a calm but resolute presence stepped forward. Dr. Olufemi, Chair of the Pan-African Neurotech Alliance, had stood quietly through the flurry of international proposals. He waited, not with urgency, but with the weight of someone who understood the significance of timing and history.
"Daniel, if I may," he began, his voice rich and steady, carrying across the crowd without needing to rise. "We've seen too many of our continent's innovations hijacked by foreign interests. NeuroSpeech was built here. It was dreamed here. Let it be launched here, with African hands guiding its future."
The surrounding noise faded for a moment as the words settled between them. It wasn't just a plea, it was a reminder. A call to responsibility.
Daniel turned to face him fully, something in his expression softening. For all the glittering offers that had come before, this one struck deeper. It spoke not of profits or exclusivity, but of legacy.
"You'll be hearing from me directly, Dr. Olufemi," Daniel said quietly, his voice laced with something rarely heard in these kinds of rooms, conviction.
The doctor nodded once, his message delivered, his faith intact.
As the buzz of voices began to quiet, a suited aide stepped beside Daniel and leaned in discreetly.
"The Prime Minister would like to see you. Alone."
The heavy doors to the government chamber closed behind them with a soft click, muffling the echo of applause still ringing from the NeuroSpeech demo hall. Daniel walked in with quiet composure, Thomas just a step behind, eyes scanning the richly adorned space. A security detail nodded at them before retreating, leaving only the three men inside.
At the far end, the Prime Minister stood beside a table set with aged brandy, his bearing calm and assured, but his eyes sharp.
"You've done well, Daniel," the man said, lifting a glass but not yet sipping. "Truly. What I witnessed out there, it's revolutionary."
Daniel offered a respectful smile and a slight bow of the head. "Thank you, sir. It's the result of years of work… from a team that believes in its purpose."
The Prime Minister gestured to the leather seats. "Sit. Let's speak plainly."
They did. A moment passed in silence as the PM studied them both, then leaned forward slightly, his tone shifting.
"What happens next?" he asked. "Will we wake up to headlines that some American firm bought exclusive rights? Or will the NeuroSpeech project become one of those African breakthroughs that enriches everyone but the ones who bled to make it real?"
Daniel's posture remained steady, but his mind worked fast. "We're evaluating our next steps. There's interest from global institutions, yes. But our intention is to keep it rooted where it began. Sierra Leone isn't just a launch site, it's the soul of this project."
The Prime Minister's brow lifted slightly, as if impressed, but not swayed. "Good. Because I want this declared a national innovation priority. I want our hospitals equipped with it, our schools trained on it, our people to be the first to benefit." He paused, then added, voice cool but firm, "And in exchange, the government will expect a stake."
Thomas stirred beside Daniel. "With respect, sir, a stake could translate into government control.."
"Control?" The Prime Minister cut in with a polite but pointed smile. "No. Influence? Yes. Daniel, you have something bigger than a prototype. You have a legacy here. Don't let foreign interests rob this nation of its brilliance."
Daniel folded his hands on his lap, thoughtful. He wasn't naive. He understood the implications, publicity, protection, funding… and pressure. Political ties could offer muscle, but also strings. He thought of the years they toiled to perfect NeuroSpeech, of Ibrahim, Alie, the sleepless nights, and of Esther, who had seen its heart beyond the code.
"I hear you, sir," Daniel said at last, voice measured. "And I'm grateful, for your support, especially during your son's testing. But we built this to help people, not to play politics. I can't let the project's mission be compromised."
The Prime Minister watched him closely, then gave a slow nod. "Then do both. Launch it here. Let the world know it began with us. Give the people that hope. You'll have the full weight of the government behind you."
The room settled into silence once again. A deal wasn't struck, but something heavier than a contract had passed between them. An understanding.
"I'll draft a proposal," Daniel said finally. "One that reflects our vision, and protects its future."
The Prime Minister rose, extending his hand. "That's all I ask."
They shook, firm and deliberate. As Daniel and Thomas exited the room, the former glanced back once at the door.
There were more meetings ahead, more offers, and more agendas. But the first domino had fallen.
And the race for NeuroSpeech had truly begun.