"Ma?" Esther's voice echoed through the quiet halls of the Cole family home, her steps brisk, heavy with urgency as she scanned the corners of the living room and hallway.
From the back door, Zianab appeared, her footsteps quickening the moment she heard her sister's voice.
"Esther? You're here?" she asked, a hint of surprise shadowed by growing concern as she approached.
"Where's Ma? Is everything okay?" Esther asked, her eyes still searching.
"She's fine," Zianab replied, though her tone had already shifted into something guarded. "But why are you here? I thought you were out with Betty… at the picnic?"
"She called me," Esther said, her brows furrowed. "Her voice, she sounded off. She told me to come home."
Zianab exhaled sharply, and with it came a tension Esther hadn't fully noticed until now.
"Esther… listen to me," Zianab began, her voice firm, eyes locking with hers. "No matter what Ma says, don't let her sway you."
Esther blinked, confused. "What do you mean?"
"I mean," Zianab continued, "she's going to ask you to help Sarah. That's why she called you here." Her voice shook slightly with emotion. "And yes, she's our mother. But don't let her guilt you into forgetting what Sarah did. What she planned to do to you… and your husband."
Just then, another voice cut through the rising tension.
"And why shouldn't she help?" Musu asked from behind, stepping into view in a brightly patterned Ankara gown. Her eyes were sunken with sleeplessness, her voice low and hoarse with fatigue. "Tell me, Zianab, why shouldn't Esther help her sister?"
"Ma…" Zianab turned, her jaw tightening. "You know exactly why. Please don't pretend like you and Sarah are the victims here."
Musu's eyes narrowed.
"Esther," Zianab turned back to her younger sister, her voice heavy with urgency, "I know you love her. We all do in some way. But don't let that love blind you. Don't be manipulated. There's a line between helping family and destroying yourself for them."
"I never thought I'd live to see the day my own daughter speak this way," Musu murmured, shaking her head slowly. "You don't want to help, fine. But don't poison your sister's heart with your bitterness."
"Bitterness?" Zianab scoffed. "I'm not bitter. I'm awake. Sarah has done nothing but bring chaos into this family. Now that her darkness has swallowed her whole, you want the one she tried to destroy to be the one to save her?"
She turned once more to Esther, eyes blazing now. "Family can be like leeches. Let them cling too long and they'll drain you, until all that's left is a hollow shell of who you used to be."
With that, Zianab walked out of the room, not looking back.
She had said what needed to be said. Whether Esther would listen or not… was no longer her battle.
Musu stood motionless, arms folded tightly across her chest, eyes glistening but unyielding. Esther, suspended between the silence of her mother and the echo of her sister's retreating footsteps, felt the weight of her choices settle like a stormcloud at the base of her chest, dark, heavy, and looming.
And somewhere deep inside her… she feared Zianab might be right.
"Ma," Esther finally spoke, voice soft but pointed. "Are you okay? Why did you ask me to come?"
Musu exhaled, her voice already trembling as she stepped closer. "I'm not, dear. It's your sister… Sarah…"
"I'm not here to talk about Sarah," Esther cut in, lifting a hand. "I came because you asked me to. But if this is what it's about, I'll be going."
She turned, already stepping away.
"Please, just hear me out," Musu said, voice breaking.
Esther paused.
As always, her mother's voice had that effect on her.
Musu stepped forward, clasping her hands together like a woman trying to hold onto something fast slipping away. "Esther, I know your sister has hurt you. Deeply. I know she doesn't deserve forgiveness, or grace… but please, help her. Just this once. For me."
Esther turned back slowly, her eyes darkening. "You really want me to help the woman who hired men to violate me?" she asked, her voice quiet, but piercing. "The same person who tried to destroy Daniel's company? Why, Ma? Why would you even ask me that?"
Musu swallowed hard, her lips trembling. She had no words that could justify it.
"I'm sorry," Esther said, her voice firm now. "But I can't. I've done more than enough where Sarah is concerned."
"Esther, please.."
"No, Ma. Please stop." Her voice cracked just slightly, her control fraying. "I've taken so much from Sarah over the years. Too much. I've forgiven. I've sacrificed. I've swallowed my pain again and again, just to keep the peace in this family. But not anymore. Not for this."
Tears welled in Musu's eyes. Her knees bent, and she sank slowly to the floor.
"Ma, please, don't do that," Esther said, startled.
"You're right," Musu whispered, her voice hoarse with grief. "You're absolutely right. Sarah has done terrible things. And she doesn't deserve your help. But I'm her mother. And no matter what she's done, I can't stop loving her. I can't stop worrying."
She wept freely now. "She's still my daughter."
"And so am I, Ma," Esther snapped, her voice rising. "I'm your daughter too. Why don't you ever fight for me like this? Why don't you cry for me like this? Why am I always the one who has to carry the pain and never be seen as the one who needs protection?"
Musu looked up, speechless.
"I needed you when she tried to destroy me. When she almost succeeded. And you were quiet."
"I'm trying now," Musu said, her voice small. "That's why this is so hard. You both are my children. I can't bear the thought of Sarah rotting away in a prison.."
"She put herself there," Esther cut in coldly. "No one forced her."
"But I'm the one left behind to watch her fall," Musu sobbed. "And if it were you in her place, I would be here, too. Begging for your life. I know I'm asking too much, but please… just this once, help me. Do it for me. For your mother."
Her body shook as she bowed her head to the floor.
"No," Esther whispered, moving forward quickly, her hands catching Musu's shoulders. "Ma, please… get up. Don't do this. Please."
Musu raised her tear-streaked face to hers. "I'm not trying to guilt you, Esther. I swear it. I just… I don't know what else to do. I won't ask again after this. Just this once, I'm begging as a mother."
Her voice trembled as she said the words, not as a manipulator, not even as a mother defending one daughter over the other, but simply as a mother… begging to save the child she birthed.
Esther's hands fell slowly to her sides.
In her heart, a scream echoed, torn between her own pain… and the weight of a mother's.
Night draped the Lewis mansion in shadows and silence. The only sounds came from the antique clock ticking steadily in the living room and the gentle clink of a spoon against porcelain as Dija sat curled on the couch, her eyes fixed nervously on her phone screen.
Footsteps echoed, measured, deliberate.
She looked up to see Daniel descending the staircase, sleeves rolled to his forearms, face unreadable, but his eyes, sharp, searching, betrayed the storm beneath.
"Why hasn't Esther returned home? It's been hours," Daniel asked, his voice low but heavy with unease.
Dija looked up from the couch, where she sat curled, her teacup trembling slightly as she set it down on the table. "She should be back any moment now," she replied, trying to sound confident. "She got a call from her mom… asked me to take Betty home after the picnic, then she left."
Daniel's eyes narrowed. "Left how? With who?"
"She went alone," Dija said carefully, watching his expression harden. The tight line of his jaw, the twitch in his temple, none of it escaped her. He had been asking about Esther since he walked in, and each time, Dija had repeated the same uncertain answers.
"Why didn't you go with her?" he snapped, stepping closer. His voice wasn't loud, but the restrained anger in it cut sharper than a shout.
"I offered," Dija defended, straightening. "But she insisted Betty should get home safely. She was worried, it was getting late."
Daniel exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair. He pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed again. Still unreachable.
He tried once more. Nothing.
His heart thudded heavier in his chest. A familiar dread settled like a weight in his gut.
"Mather," he called out.
A moment later, the housekeeper appeared. "Yes, sir?"
"Get me the car keys," he ordered, already heading toward the door.
"Uncle D," Dija called after him, rising to her feet, "I'm sure she's fine, probably on her way now."
But her words did nothing to slow him. He pressed redial on his phone yet again. Still no answer. His posture stiffened, his face now taut with worry.
"She knows better than this," he muttered to himself, his voice frayed. "This is exactly how things spiral."
"I'm sure she's okay," Dija offered gently, her voice softer now.
Daniel didn't respond. His thumb was already redialing, his other hand clenched around the keys Mather had handed him.
"I'm going to find her," he said tightly, not pausing. He couldn't sit still, not with her line dead, not with memories of a time when the silence nearly destroyed everything. The last time her phone had been unreachable, something terrible had almost happened.
But just as Daniel's hand closed around the door handle, it opened from the other side, slowly, quietly.
Esther stood there.
The porch light cast a warm glow behind her, softening her outline, catching in her hair as the night breeze brushed a loose strand across her face. She froze in the doorway, startled to see Daniel, coat on, keys in hand, tension etched across every line of his body.
Behind her, the night whispered in gentle hushes, unaware of the storm she was walking back into.
Daniel stared at her, silent, unblinking. His relief warred with a hundred other emotions, and for a long, charged second, he couldn't speak.
Then:
"Where have you been?"
His voice was low, controlled, but threaded with tightly-coiled panic.
Esther blinked, stepping inside. "At my mother's. She called. I didn't think it would take this long."
"You didn't take a driver. No bodyguard. You didn't call." His voice sharpened slightly, more frustration than anger. "Do you have any idea what could've happened?"
"I'm fine, Daniel," she said softly, eyes lowering.
But that wasn't the point. Not to him.
He took a slow breath, dragging his hand down his face, trying to steady the storm still stirring in his chest. The talk with Alhaji earlier hadn't left his mind, not for a second. Not after the veiled threat about Esther. About their daughter.
He couldn't afford to be careless, not with the people he loved.
"Are you sure you're alright?" he asked again, his voice softer this time. He stepped closer, searching her eyes.
She nodded… but her face betrayed her.
There was something there, unease. Guilt. Or perhaps just exhaustion too deep to name.
From the couch, Dija stood silently. She glanced between them once, then turned and quietly slipped upstairs, giving them space. She knew better than to interrupt now.
And as the echo of Dija's footsteps faded, a heavy quiet fell over the room.
Daniel and Esther stood there, him, tense and watchful; her, worn and guarded. Something unspoken passed between them, a weight pressing into the silence like a storm that hadn't broken yet… but would
upstairs, the soft hum of the bedroom air conditioner filled the silence between them. The lights were dimmed, casting long shadows across the walls. Daniel sat on the edge of the bed, unbuttoning his shirt, but his eyes kept straying to Esther.
She had been quiet since they came upstairs. Too quiet.
She stood near the window, arms folded, her reflection barely visible in the glass.
He watched her for a moment before speaking, voice gentle but edged with worry.
"You're still not alright."
Esther didn't respond immediately. Her fingers tightened around her arms, her gaze fixed on the night outside. Then she turned slowly, eyes meeting his.
"Daniel… can we talk?"
His stomach sank. He knew that tone, soft, hesitant. Careful.
"Of course." He stood, giving her his full attention. "What is it?"
She hesitated, stepped closer, and then stopped. "It's about Sarah."
Daniel's jaw ticked, but he didn't speak. He waited.
"Ma is worried about her, she pleaded I help talk to you. I know this sound stupid and..but can you please have her out, I don't want justice any more" Her voice trembled slightly. After the talk with her mother, she had declined , not wanting to help or be part of it but on her way home, she kept thinking… thinking of her mother's tears, her knees clapping down and heart being burdened by the worries of her daughter in prison. All those thoughts, got her softened and worried about her mother's health.
Daniel's posture changed, rigid now. His eyes darkened, his hands curled at his sides.
"What are you saying, Esther?" he asked, even though he already knew.
She took another step forward.
"I'm asking… that we drop the charges. Just… let Sarah out. Please"
His reaction was swift. He took a step back as if her words had physically struck him.
"No." The word was sharp, final. "You promised me." His voice rose calmly in a depth controlled fury. "You told me you wouldn't let them use you again. That we were done with this."
"I'm not being used," she said quickly. "I'm just worry about Ma" she defended yet she wasn't certain of what she really meant to her mother. Sometimes it felt like she was not her flesh, yet she cared.
"I know what I promised you Daniel, but can you just help this once"
Daniel ran a hand through his hair and let out a dry, humorless laugh."You're asking me to release the woman who tried to destroy everything I've built. Who tried to destroy you."
Esther moved closer, her voice soft and urgent.
"I know. I know what she did. And I hate that I have to ask this. But I'm not doing it for Sarah. I'm doing it for Ma." She reached for his arm. "Please, Daniel. I'm begging you."
He looked down at her hand on his arm, then up at her eyes. The silence between them thickened.
"You're asking too much." His voice was colder now. "You want me to throw away justice, for what? To ease someone else's guilt?"
She shook her head, eyes glossy.
"To give my mother peace. That's all. Please, just this once…"
Daniel stepped back.
"No." He turned, walked to the door, then paused with his hand on the frame.
"I'll be in my study tonight."
And just like that, he left.
Esther stood alone in the middle of the room, the soft click of the door sounding louder than anything else.