The house fell quiet after Zianab stormed out of the kitchen. The scent of stew lingered in the air, but Musu had lost her appetite.
She sat at the edge of the dining bench, her hands resting in her lap, her gaze fixed on the wall across from her. Zianab's words echoed like drumbeats in her ears.
You're tearing it apart yourself.
Always told Esther to keep the peace… always made excuses for Sarah.
It hurt. Not because it wasn't true, but because deep down, she knew some of it was.
Had she really been that blind?
She loved her daughters. Every single one of them. She had given her life to raising them after their father passed, no help, no guide, just instinct and sacrifice. But love, she realized now, hadn't always been equal. Sarah had always been the loudest, the most demanding, the one who cried the hardest and sulked the longest. And Musu… she had caved too often, thinking she was keeping the family intact.
Esther was the quiet one. Always trying to understand. Always trying to make peace.
And now she was asking her, no, pressuring her, to give up love, just so there wouldn't be tension at home?
But what if she was wrong about Mr Lewis ?
No, she didn't trust him. He was older. A widower. He had a child. His world was too polished, too powerful. She didn't want Esther swallowed by it, or worse, discarded when he changed his mind.
But maybe, just maybe… she had gone about it the wrong way.
An hour passed and she was done with dinner
"Dinner is ready!" she called out.
Everyone gathered, and the meal passed quietly. Esther barely spoke, and Zianab's expression stayed unreadable. Musu moved on autopilot, serving plates, sipping water, forcing a smile or two.
Musu sat down slowly at the dining table, her eyes fixed on Esther, who sat across from her with her spoon paused mid-air over her plate of rice. She didn't have to say a word to know that her daughter was affected by her earlier words. Musu knew she needed to make things right.
"Esther," Musu began gently, her voice soft but steady, drawing her daughter's full attention. "Dear, I want you to know something."
Esther looked down, silent, the weight of unspoken feelings heavy between them.
"When I told you to end things with Mr. Lewis, it wasn't because I wanted to hurt you," Musu continued, her tone full of quiet regret.
"I'm worry," she paused , her voice laced with emotion. "That man lives in a world far different from ours. He's older, experienced… and he's lost someone. Love like that leaves a scar. You're young. You deserve someone who gives you all of himself, not someone still haunted."
"I understand," Esther whispered.
Musu reached across the table and held her hand.
"I still don't believe he's the right choice. But I'm not going to stop you. If he makes you happy… if your heart is sure… then follow it. Just promise me you'll protect yourself."
Across the table, Zianab, who had been quietly watching the two, exhaled slowly, a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. Her shoulders relaxed, and a soft, knowing smile touched her lips. She didn't say anything, but her eyes shimmered with a quiet joy. Relief.
For once, their mother was listening. Not dictating. Not controlling. Just… letting go.
Esther's throat tightened. Her chest loosened like someone had cut the rope around it. She blinked back tears and nodded.
"Thank you, Ma," Esther whispered. "That's all I wanted, to be able to choose."
Musu smiled faintly, brushing her thumb over Esther's knuckles. "Then choose wisely. And know that whatever happens… this home will always be yours."
Esther nodded, her voice caught somewhere in her chest. "I promise."
For the first time in days, peace quietly settled between them.
The kitchen was quiet now, save for the gentle clatter of ceramic as Musu stacked the empty plates into the dish rack. The stew pot had been scrubbed, the countertop wiped down, but she still lingered, hands moving just to keep her thoughts from spiraling again.
Then came the sound of heels, familiar, confident.
Sarah.
She strolled in, her perfume wafting into the room before her words did. "Smells like you made groundnut stew again. You didn't call me for dinner?"
Musu didn't look up. "You never said you'd be home."
Sarah shrugged, stepping further in. "I'm here now."
There was a long pause as Musu dried her hands. She folded the towel neatly, then finally turned around.
"Sarah," she began slowly, her voice even, "I heard something earlier and I want to hear it from you directly."
Sarah's brow arched. "Okay?"
"Did you… faked your qualifications to get your job at LewisTech?" She asked, her eyes still at her daughter, "you did not lie about your family background , told people you come from money. Did you?"
Sarah blinked once, caught off guard, but the sharp glint in her eyes quickly returned. "Who told you that?" she asked, feigning calm. "Esther?" She accused, only she would bad mouth her to their mother, she thought through.
Musu's gaze didn't flinch. "Don't deflect. I asked a question, just answer me."
Silence hovered between them. Then Sarah scoffed lightly and crossed her arms. "So what if I did?" she said, jaw tightening. "Do you think a girl like me could land a job in a company like that being honest? People like them don't respect poverty, Ma. They want polished stories. Power. Prestige. I gave them what they needed to see."
Musu stared at her daughter, words failing her for a moment. "So you're ashamed of where you come from?" she asked softly.
Sarah's eyes flickered. She didn't answer.
"That's it, isn't it?" Musu pressed. "You're ashamed of us. Ashamed of me. Of the little house I built. Of the market woman mother who sells groceries so her girls wouldn't starve."
"I didn't say that," Sarah snapped, her arms crossed, tone defiant.
"You didn't have to," Musu replied sharply, her voice low but heavy with disappointment. "I see it in you, Sarah… and I can't pretend anymore."
Sarah stiffened, her gaze drifting to the window, avoiding her mother's eyes. "Why are you even listening to Esther? She's always had a problem with me. Just trust me for once, Ma. I know what I'm doing."
Musu's chest rose, her heart aching at the daughter she barely recognized anymore. "Is this who I raised?" she asked, more to herself than to Sarah. "A girl who hides behind lies, envies her own sister, and chases after what doesn't belong to her?"
Sarah flinched but said nothing.
"I didn't fail you, Sarah," Musu continued, voice trembling now, "you chose this. And God help me, I wish I'd seen it earlier."
"Ma, would just stop , I don't need you acting up"
"Acting up?" Musu asked, her voice firmer now. "Have you though of what would happen when the truth comes out? When someone looks too closely or calls your bluff? What will happen to you then, Sarah?"
"I'll handle it."
"Right, like the way you've handled all the other mess you created."
Sarah pulled her arms tighter around herself. "It's my life, Ma. I didn't ask you to interfere."
"But I am interfering," Musu said, her voice rising slightly with frustration. "Because I'm your mother. And whether you like it or not, your life reflects on this family. You may think you're protecting yourself, but you're dragging us into a lie you can't control."
"I don't need this right now," Sarah muttered, turning toward the hallway.
"Then you better start thinking about what you do need, because you're walking the wrong path."
Sarah paused at the doorway. Her shoulders were stiff, her expression unreadable.
But she said nothing.
And then she walked away.
Musu stood in the middle of the kitchen, the room still warm from dinner but suddenly colder than before.
At another end, Thomas and Dija had finished their night date. The road was quiet and shadowed as Thomas pulled into the long, paved driveway, the car's headlights gliding over a sleek black gate that opened automatically. The mansion behind it stood tall, glowing faintly under strategically placed lights that outlined its grand architecture.
Thomas blinked as the car rolled to a stop in front of the main steps. He knew Dija came from money, but this… this was a whole new level.
"Surprised?" Dija teased, unbuckling her seatbelt with a smirk.
"Honestly?" Thomas murmured, stepping out with her. "Yeah. I knew you were rich, but I didn't expect presidential-level rich."
She laughed. "Well, I don't show off unless I absolutely need to. Thanks for the ride, by the way."
"Anytime." He offered a polite smile. "You should get some rest."
Dija paused before heading up the stairs. "Come in," she said suddenly. "Just for tea, or snacks. Something quick."
Thomas raised a hand. "I really shouldn't.."
"Oh, come on. I insist." She grabbed his wrist and tugged playfully. "Don't make me look like a bad host."
Against better judgment, he followed her inside.
The foyer was expansive, with polished marble floors that reflected the warm glow of chandelier light. An oil painting of a regal-looking man hung over a gold-framed mirror. Thomas took it all in quietly, trying not to look too impressed.
"Salone's finest," Dija said lightly. "Make yourself comfortable." She turned to a passing servant. "Balu, please bring tea and some light snacks to the sitting room."
Thomas followed her into a smaller lounge just off the main hallway. He hadn't even fully sunk into the couch when the sound of heels echoed down the stairs.
Kadiatu descended slowly, a vision of elegance and intimidation wrapped in a silk robe. Her eyes, sharp and observant, flicked from her daughter to the man seated beside her.
"Mom" Dija smiled, standing. "You're up."
"I was heading to my study." Kadiatu's voice was smooth but distant. "I heard voices."
"This is Thomas. My boyfriend."she introduced
Thomas's head snapped toward her. Boyfriend?, he wasn't tipped for this introduction.
Kadiatu's gaze didn't flinch, but something in her expression shifted, disbelief, followed by subtle disapproval. She took a slow step forward.
"I've seen you before," she said coolly, looking him over. "You're Lewis's assistant, aren't you?" she asked, having a blurry memory of seeing him at the fundraiser months ago.
"Yes, ma'am." Thomas stood politely. "Thomas George ."
"Hmm." She gave a tight nod, lips pressed. "You work very closely with him, I assume?"
"Yes," he replied cautiously. "I coordinate most of his operations and schedules."
Kadiatu said nothing in response. Her silence was louder than any insult.
Thomas could feel the temperature drop.
"I hope you've been enjoying your tea," she said flatly, even though it hadn't yet arrived.
Dija rolled her eyes. "Mom, Thomas isn't an intruder."
"No, he's not," her mother replied. "He's just… unexpected."
Thomas cleared his throat, sensing the thinly veiled dismissal. "It's getting late. I should head out."
"Already?" Dija asked, surprised.
"I've got an early start," he said gently, avoiding her eyes.
Kadiatu stepped aside without another word, watching him as he moved toward the door. The judgment lingered like perfume.
Once outside, Thomas exhaled slowly and shook his head.
That wasn't just a cold welcome. It was a warning.
The moment Thomas left and the front door clicked shut, Dija turned back into the lounge, her jaw clenched and eyes blazing.
"What was that, Mom?" she demanded, her voice cutting through the silence like glass.
Kadiatu didn't flinch. She moved with practiced grace toward the sleek bar counter, acting as though she hadn't just made her daughter's guest feel like an intruder.
"What was what?" she said coolly, reaching for a crystal decanter as if they were about to discuss the weather.
Dija's arms folded tightly across her chest. "You were rude to him, Mom. You made him feel completely unwelcome."
"Did I?" Kadiatu raised a brow with feigned innocence, pouring herself a neat splash of dark liquor. "Well, if he felt out of place, maybe he was."
"Don't do that," Dija snapped, stepping forward. "Don't pretend you don't know exactly what you were doing."
Kadiatu shrugged, lifting the glass to her lips. "Dija, I'm going to be honest with you. That boy is not your class, more so, not your status."
Dija groaned. "Not the status talk again," she muttered under her breath.
"Yes, the status talk again," Kadiatu fired back, voice rising slightly. "Because it matters. You live a certain life. You come from a family of standards. And that boy? He's, what, an assistant?. A glorified errand boy?"
"That 'errand boy' has more character than most of the spoiled brats in our circle," Dija countered. "And he works hard. He's kind. He treats me with respect."
"Respect doesn't pay for the life you're used to," Kadiatu said sharply, slamming the glass down harder than necessary on the marble. "Can he afford the clothes you wear? The vacations you take? The school fees your father paid for?" She stepped closer now, eyes gleaming with intensity. "Let's not pretend, Dija. You've been sheltered your entire life. You don't know what it means to struggle."
"I don't need him to buy me a damn lifestyle!" Dija's voice cracked, raw with frustration. "I have my own money. I make my own choices."
"Don't be foolish," Kadiatu hissed. "You think love is enough? Wait five years, when you're paying bills, juggling expectations, raising children, and then tell me if love is still enough to keep you warm at night!"
Dija's chest heaved, fury bubbling beneath her skin. "Why do you hate him so much? Is it because he's not dripping in designer clothes or driving a limited edition?"
"I don't hate him," Kadiatu snapped, "I pity him. Because no matter how well-mannered he is, he doesn't belong in this world. And neither do you if you stay with him."
Dija stared at her, stunned by the venom in her words.
"You don't get to choose who I love, Mom," she said quietly, but firmly. "You raised me to be confident, independent, outspoken. And now that I'm finally using that voice, you want to silence it because it doesn't fit your script."
"I'm not asking your permission, Dija," Kadiatu said, tone turning cold. "I'm your mother. I have every right to interfere when I see my only child lowering herself."
"You think I'm lowering myself?" Dija stepped back, hurt flashing across her face. "You think being with a good man makes me less?"
"I think settling for less will ruin you," Kadiatu said without blinking. "You are the daughter of a legacy, Dija. A name that carries weight. And I will not let you throw it away for someone whose biggest asset is his loyalty to another man."
Silence crackled in the room.
Dija stood there, shoulders tense, fists clenched at her sides. Her heart was pounding, part pain, part defiance.
"Then maybe you don't know me as well as you think," she said, voice breaking slightly. "Because I'd rather build something real with someone like Thomas than fake a perfect life with someone like you'd choose for me."
Without waiting for a response, she turned and stormed up the stairs, leaving her mother alone with her expensive liquor and her crumbling expectations.
Morning sun streamed through the tall glass panels of the LewisTech boardroom, casting golden beams across the polished wood table where Daniel sat at the head, sleeves rolled and tie slightly loosened. Around him, his top staff, Thomas, Ibrahim, Alie, and two of the corporate leads, flipped through proposal sheets and strategic rollout plans for the grand NeuroSpeech launch scheduled at month's end.
"We're barely two weeks out," Daniel said, his tone sharp but measured. "Everything from system performance to press coverage must be airtight. No glitches. No half-prepared displays. This launch will shape the future of this company."
Ibrahim gave a small nod. "Yes sir"
Alie added, "And the media crew is set for walkthrough recordings by next week."
Daniel leaned back slightly, his fingers steepled in thought. "Good. Now, about the invitations"
The door creaked open. Thomas stepped in, brows raised with urgency.
"Sorry to interrupt," he said, eyes locking with Daniel. "But… Miss Cole's mother is here. She asked to see you privately."
The boardroom shifted ever so slightly in energy. Daniel's expression flickered just for a moment, surprise?, curiosity?, before he stood. "Excuse me, everyone. Continue the review. I'll join back shortly."
As Daniel left the room with Thomas, the camera of fate shifted outside the office halls.
Downstairs in the polished marble lobby, Sarah stood frozen mid-step as her eyes landed on the woman seated at the reception bench.
"Ma?" she breathed, blinking twice, not trusting her sight. Then she stormed forward, her voice low and sharp. "What are you doing here?" She sharply asked, thoughts running to the night argument with her mother.
She was here to tell on her, was she
Musu looked up, calm and composed, her purse folded neatly in her lap. "I'm not here for you, Sarah."
Sarah's breath hitched. Her eyes darted nervously toward the security camera, then to the passing employees. "Are you crazy? You can't just walk in here like this, what if someone hears something? What if.."
"I said I'm not here for you," Musu repeated, standing. Her tone was firmer now, cutting through Sarah's rising panic. "This isn't about you, Sarah.And you better stay away before someone sees you with a poor woman."
Sarah stepped in front of her, trying to block her path. "Mama, please," she whispered frantically. "Don't do this. You'll ruin everything. We can talk at home, just, please don't embarrass me here."
Musu stared at her daughter for a long moment, the concern in her eyes hardening into disappointment. "I'm not here to protect your secrets, Sarah. I came to speak to the man who's in love with your sister."
Before Sarah could respond, footsteps approached.
Thomas appeared beside them, giving Sarah a brief glance before turning to Musu. "Ma'am, Mr. Lewis is ready to see you now."
"Thank you," Musu said politely, brushing past Sarah as if she were no more than a distant acquaintance.
Sarah stood rooted in place, watching her mother disappear with Thomas down the corridor leading to Daniel's private suite. Her stomach twisted, her heart thudded in dread.
For the first time, she wasn't sure if she was afraid of her secret being exposed, or of losing control of a narrative she thought she could manipulate.
"Thanks for seeing me," Musu said the moment she stepped into the quiet, glass-paneled room. Her voice was calm but carried the weight of unspoken thoughts. Her gaze lingered briefly on Daniel, who was seated on the couch near the far window, before she took a few tentative steps forward.
"Please, have a seat," Daniel offered, rising to his feet. His expression remained polite, though there was a flicker of uncertainty behind his eyes. He hadn't expected her, not today, and certainly not alone.
"I apologize for the unexpected visit," she said, easing into the armchair across from him. "I just… needed to talk. After everything that's happened lately, it felt necessary."
"No harm done," Daniel replied with quiet courtesy, taking his seat once more. "You're always welcome. Would you like something to drink? Thomas.."
"That won't be necessary," Musu cut in gently, holding up a hand. Her face shifted, her tone sharpening as she looked him in the eye. "Let me get straight to the point. I'm here to talk about my daughter, Esther."
Daniel stilled.
"I believe you two are… involved," she continued, her voice carefully measured, as if reluctant to name what she didn't yet approve of.
He nodded slightly, not denying it, not interrupting either.
"I mean no disrespect," she went on, "but I don't think you're the right man for her."
Daniel exhaled slowly, his fingers curling once into his palm before he relaxed again. His face remained composed, but the sting of her words did not go unnoticed.
"We both know the reality of your situation," she said, crossing one leg over the other. "You're a widower. You have a child. Esther, she's still so young, still figuring herself out. As her mother, I can't help but worry about what lies ahead for her."
Daniel remained silent, absorbing every word without flinching. After a long pause, he finally spoke, low, steady, and sincere.
"I understand," he said. "I'm a father myself. And I know what it feels like to want the best for your child. I respect that."
Musu's gaze softened slightly, but her voice held firm. "Then I hope you understand where I'm coming from. I'm not accusing you of anything, Mr. Lewis. But I've seen women give their years to men who were unsure… men who never gave them anything lasting in return. I don't want that for my daughter."
Daniel nodded slowly, still listening.
"My question is simple," she continued. "Are you serious about Esther? Or is this just comfort for you, something to fill a void?"
His jaw tightened for the first time, but not with anger, with resolve. "No, ma'am," he said clearly. "This isn't a distraction. I love your daughter. I didn't expect to… but I do. And I would never play with her heart. That's not who I am."
Musu studied him for a moment, perhaps weighing the truth of his words against her instinct. Then she said the one thing that pierced deeper than the rest.
"Good. Then don't hold her hostage in a nameless relationship."
The silence that followed was heavy with implication.
"She deserves more than secrecy and uncertainty, Mr. Lewis," Musu added, her voice quieter now but no less firm. "She deserves a man willing to claim her boldly. If you truly love her… give her what she's worth."
Daniel didn't need her to spell it out. Her meaning was crystal clear.
And in that moment, something shifted in him. Not out of pressure or pride, but conviction.
He had already made up his mind long before she walked in. Now… he knew what he needed to do, and soon.