As the Esther and her family moved further into the grand hall, welcomed by hosts and guided toward their reserved section near the front, Dija leaned toward Esther and whispered, "I'll be right back. I need to make sure my so-called boyfriend didn't show up in neon green or something equally tragic."
Esther laughed quietly and nodded, her attention half-turned toward the rising buzz in the room.
Dija sauntered off, her heels clicking confidently against the marble floor, scanning the crowd. She didn't have to look long. Standing near a lavish drinks station, Thomas stood tall and composed in a deep wine-red tuxedo, sleek, crisp, and sinfully handsome. The exact color of her dress.
Dija's lips parted in an approving smirk. Good boy.
But before she could wave or sneak up behind him, her steps slowed. Someone else had reached him first.
Kadiatu.
Her mother.
Kadiatu was impossible to miss, a vision of elegance and quiet power. She wore a tailored cream and gold gown that merged traditional designs with haute couture craftsmanship. Her posture was effortless, her gaze sharp, and her presence magnetic.
She stood close to Thomas, her chin slightly lifted as she regarded him with eyes that were sharp and probing, like she was already onto something unpleasant.
"Thomas, right?" Her voice was clipped, laced with quiet disapproval.
Thomas turned, surprised to find her there, but he maintained his composure. His posture remained tall and respectful, and he offered her a polite smile. "Yes, ma'am."
"I don't mean to be rude," Kadiatu began, her tone anything but kind, "but I'll be direct. I need you to stay away from my daughter. The two of you are not in the same class, and you never will be."
Thomas's knuckles tightened subtly at his sides. He took a breath, keeping the anger building in his chest from spilling over. "With all due respect, ma'am, I don't think I'm the person you should be telling this to. If your daughter decides to end things, I'll respect her decision. But until then, I'm not walking away just because you say so." He paused. "I hope you enjoy the rest of your evening."
He turned to leave.
"You don't want to test my patience," Kadiatu's voice cut in sharply, freezing his steps.
"I'm not here for long speeches, boy. End whatever this is with my daughter. You're a low-class man with nothing to your name, and yet you dare to look at my daughter, the heiress to a multi-billion-dollar inheritance."
Thomas turned back to face her, his voice steady and low. "Maybe I don't come from money, ma'am, and maybe I have little to my name. But I have something worth more than wealth, dignity, and respect. I don't use people. And I certainly don't look down on others just because I can."
Kadiatu's eyes flared, and her hands twitched with frustration. His words hit deeper than she cared to admit. "If you think I'll let you fool my daughter and ride your way into our fortune, you're mistaken," she hissed, her voice trembling, not with fear, but with the desperation of a mother convinced she was protecting her child.
She had seen too much of the world, too many charming men with empty pockets and full intentions. And maybe she was harsh, maybe even cruel, but it came from a place of battle-worn fear.
"Mom?"
Dija's voice rang out behind them, sharp with alarm.
She reached them quickly, her eyes bouncing from her mother's expression to Thomas's tense jaw. She knew that look. "Please don't tell me you were at it again," she said softly, already knowing the answer.
"I'm doing this for your own good," Kadiatu said firmly, unapologetic. "You'll thank me one day."
"Mom, please." Dija's voice lowered, urgent and pleading. "Don't make a scene. This night is important to Uncle D. Can we just respect that—for once?"
"I'm not making a scene," her mother snapped, though her words said otherwise. "I simply stated the truth. He should find someone at his own level and leave you alone. Because I will never accept someone like him for you."
With that, she turned on her heel, her cold scowl flipping into a warm social smile as she greeted another guest passing by, as if nothing had happened.
Dija sighed, embarrassed and deeply hurt. She turned to Thomas, guilt swimming in her eyes. "Thomas, I'm so sorry. I didn't know she was going to.."
"It's okay," he said, gently pulling her into a hug. "You're not your mother. She's her, and you're you. And I'm not letting her words get to me."
He looked down at her, steady and calm. "As long as you don't give up on us, I won't either."
Dija nodded, swallowing the knot in her throat. She leaned into him, her arms wrapping around his torso more tightly than before.
"Then we're good," she whispered.
"We're always good," he murmured back.
Meanwhile, Esther was bent slightly toward Zainab, whispering something with a faint smile when a voice suddenly cut through the air.
"Miss Cole?"
Esther's head snapped up. Standing a few feet away was Sankoh, dressed in a rich brown suit that made his dark skin gleam like polished wood under the warm lights.
"You? What are you doing here?" Zainab asked, her tone laced with sharp irritation as her eyes narrowed at him.
"Nice seeing you too, sweetheart," Sankoh replied, winking flirtatiously. Esther glanced between them, her brow furrowing with curiosity and growing suspicion.
"You two know each other?" she asked, gaze flicking between their faces.
"No."
"Yes."
The responses came at once, overlapping like poorly rehearsed dialogue. Zainab immediately shot Sankoh a deadly glare. "I don't know you," she said stiffly, her jaw tight.
"But I know you," he countered smoothly, dropping into the empty seat beside her with casual confidence. "And technically, we're associates now."
Esther's eyes widened. "Wait, wait, so you do know each other. Let me guess… you're the infamous client's ex 'situationship' she's been complaining about non-stop?"
Zainab stiffened while Sankoh grinned, the nerve of him to grin after putting her through days of exhausting work, both in and out of court, as she tried to mediate the messy dispute between him and her client, his so-called ex situationship. The man was insufferable: flirting with her even in front of the judge, cracking shameless remarks mid-hearing, all while entangled in the emotional fallout of a relationship he casually dismissed as "just a situationship" after months of dating. A reckless, arrogant bastard who somehow managed to turn every professional setting into a stage for his nonsense.
"So she talks about me?" he said, amused rather than offended. "I must've made quite the impression."
Zainab's eyes shot daggers at him, but Sankoh merely turned toward Esther, unfazed. "Is she your sister?"
"Yes," Esther replied pointedly. "She's my elder sister, and you should really stop being your usual pest. Give her some peace."
"Oh no," Sankoh said, placing a hand over his heart in mock sincerity. "I'm dead serious this time. I wouldn't dare bug her. I just want to make her my woman."
Zainab scoffed, leaning away from him as though his presence physically offended her.
"Make me your woman?" she repeated, tone dripping with disbelief. "Do you hear yourself when you speak, or do the delusions just roll off your tongue naturally?"
Sankoh chuckled, undeterred. "Harsh. But I like a woman with bite. Keeps things interesting."
"Then go find a hyena," Zainab shot back coolly. "They bite too, and they're much more likely to tolerate your ego."
Esther choked on her laughter, trying, and failing, to suppress it. She covered her mouth with her hand, her eyes gleaming with amusement.
Sankoh raised a brow, clearly enjoying the verbal sparring. "I'm just saying, we could be something if you'd give us a real chance."
"There is no us," Zainab replied sharply. "There never was, and there never will be. Whatever fantasy you've spun in that overinflated head of yours, delete it."
Esther leaned back in her seat, thoroughly entertained now. "Wow… I didn't realize this was going to turn into a live romcom."
"More like a tragedy," Zainab muttered under her breath, side-eyeing Sankoh. "One with a very persistent clown."
Sankoh clutched his chest dramatically. "Ouch. That one stung."
"It was meant to," Zainab said without missing a beat, crossing her legs and flipping her hair over her shoulder. "Now, be a gentleman for once and leave me alone."
He smiled and leaned in just a little, voice dropping to a smooth murmur. "You say that now, but we both know I grow on people."
Zainab shot him a withering look. "So does mold."
Esther burst into laughter again, almost spilling her drink this time. "Okay, okay, you two need a timeout before this turns into a war."
"I'm not arguing," Sankoh said, raising his hands in mock surrender. "I'm just passionately expressing my admiration."
Zainab rolled her eyes. "Then go express it somewhere far, far away."
Sankoh smirked, clearly not planning to budge. "We'll see."
Zainab turned back to Esther, speaking pointedly loud enough for him to hear. "You owe me for this. Big time."
Esther nodded, still laughing. "I know. Drinks on me."
The atmosphere shifted subtly, all eyes turned as Daniel Lewis stepped through the entryway, flanked by two senior officials from the NeuroSpeech project. Dressed in a classic black tuxedo with a subtle sheen, he looked every bit the distinguished visionary. His gaze flicked over the room until it found Esther. Their eyes locked for a moment, and Esther gave a small, almost imperceptible nod.
Just then, another pair entered behind him.
Alhaji Jalloh and his wife, Jariatu. Their attire was regal and dignified, more traditional than most in attendance, but just as refined. As they approached, Alhaji's lips curled into a practiced smile, and he extended his hand toward Daniel.
"Lewis," Alhaji said smoothly, his tone polite but empty. "Thank you for the invitation. Quite the grand occasion."
Daniel's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly, but he returned the handshake with equal restraint. "Alhaji. Jariatu. You're welcome. I trust the evening finds you well," he said, though the words were only half sincere.
He hadn't wanted to invite them.
But he had, for the sake of his late wife. No matter how much he longed to distance himself from them, they were family. Jariatu was her elder sister, and Daniel had promised, at her bedside, that he would always keep the peace.
Now he stood trapped between honoring that promise and the growing suspicion that their presence tonight meant something far more calculated.
"Very well, indeed," Jariatu replied with a perfectly poised smile. Her eyes flicked briefly to men behind Daniel before returning to Daniel. "It's a remarkable turnout. We're honored to witness such a historic moment."
A host approached just then, smiling professionally. "Right this way, please," he said, gesturing toward the VIP seating section. Alhaji and Jariatu nodded and followed him across the hall to their seats, their movements smooth and composed.
But beneath the surface, something darker stirred.
They settled into their seats with an air of satisfaction, almost too calm, too expectant. From the way Alhaji's fingers tapped lightly against the table, and how Jariatu occasionally exchanged small, knowing glances with her husband, it was clear they were not merely here to observe.
They were waiting.
Because what no one else knew, what they had worked silently and ruthlessly toward, was already in motion. Somewhere within the very system about to be unveiled, a fatal flaw had been planted. A malfunction designed not to simply crash the device, but to cause real, irreversible harm to its first human demonstration.
Whether the user would survive… was uncertain.
And that was the plan.
As the host took the stage and signaled the countdown to the main presentation, Alhaji folded his arms and leaned back in his chair. His smile deepened.
Let the show begin.