The morning was a harsh slash across Esther's heart.
Daniel had woken up earlier than usual, gotten himself ready without a word, and deliberately ignored the suit she had laid out for him. It wasn't just the silence that stung, it was the intent behind it.
The dining table, once filled with laughter and the warmth of a growing family, now echoed with emptiness. Daniel had walked out the moment Esther stepped into the room, leaving behind the weight of unspoken tension.
No words were needed. The cold between them said it all.
"Let me guess, you two fought again?" Lady Bell remarked, casually helping herself to a piece of fried chicken. Her eyes rested on Esther, but Esther avoided her gaze, her fingers playing with the fork on her plate.
"Honestly, you two must be the fastest couple I've seen to fall into fights," Bell added, her tone light but pointed. "If you don't mind me asking, what happened this time around?"
"I asked him to drop the case against Sarah," Esther replied quietly.
Bell's hand froze mid-air, chicken still in her grip. Her eyes narrowed at Esther, incredulous. "Wait, what? You asked Daniel to drop the case against the woman who tried to have you killed?"
"Yes, ma.." Esther began, but Bell didn't let her finish.
"Esther," she cut in sharply, "can't you see your family is using you? Especially your mother. I get that blood is blood, but honestly, you should start asking yourself if you're really part of that family. Because from where I stand, it sure doesn't feel like it."
Esther didn't respond. She had heard it before, from others, from herself in moments of doubt. But deep down, she didn't question her place in the Cole family. Her mother may be blind with love for Sarah, but that didn't mean she didn't love her too. Esther was her daughter, that much, she was sure of.
"Are you being serious right now?" Dija's voice echoed through the quiet hallway of LewisTech, trembling with disbelief. "So this is it? You're just going to give up on us… just like that, Thomas?"
Her words trembled at the edge of desperation, but his silence hurt more than anything he could say. He didn't meet her eyes, couldn't. The guilt in his chest was too loud, too heavy.
"Dija," Thomas began, voice thick, "I tried. God knows I tried. I told myself I could handle your mom, that her conditions, her games, her need for control, I could push through all of it. But I was wrong. I can't anymore."
His voice cracked on the last word. He swallowed hard, fighting the sting in his throat. His gaze dropped to the floor like a man ashamed to face the woman he still loved.
Dija stepped closer, her voice softening, full of aching hope. "I know this is hard. And I know Mom was wrong, she's been wrong, but please don't give up on us. Not like this. I don't want to lose you."
Thomas took a step back, the space between them growing like a wound. "And you think I want this?" he asked, his voice rising despite himself. "You think I want to walk away from you?"
The turning point hadn't come from an argument or even from Dija herself, it came from her mother.
Without informing anyone, she had gone to Thomas's family home and done the unthinkable: offered to pay his bride price. It wasn't a gesture of peace or tradition, it was power play, veiled in customs. Her arrival had caught everyone off guard, including Thomas's father, who had just returned home with a few visiting colleagues.
Thomas would never forget the way his father froze at the sight, the way confusion turned to quiet humiliation as the meaning of her actions became clear. In their culture, it was the man who paid the bride price, who honored the woman's family, not the other way around. To reverse it was to strip him of his role, his pride, his identity.
He'd watched his father lower into a chair, burying his face in his hands in front of men who once looked up to him. No one spoke. No one needed to. The shame had settled thickly in the room, and Thomas had stood in the middle of it, powerless.
"I love you," he said, finally looking at her. His eyes were bloodshot, glistening. "But I won't let my family carry that shame. I may not be rich. I may not come from legacy like you. But my parents deserve respect. And your mother has none to give."
"Please… don't do this," Dija whispered, her voice breaking.
"I have to," he said, almost to himself. "Because if we continue, she'll keep finding new ways to insult me, to destroy whatever pride my family still holds."
His voice hardened. "So yes. Let's break up."
And with those words, he turned and walked away, each step a battle between his heart and his pride.
Dija stood frozen. Then, as the weight of his absence sank in, her knees buckled. She collapsed to the cold tiled floor, sobs tearing out of her chest as she clutched her stomach, her forked heart split by his final words.
She had never felt so helpless, so abandoned. The man she loved had walked away, not because he stopped loving her, but because he could no longer survive loving her under the shadow of her mother.
And in that moment, Dija realized: she hadn't just lost Thomas, she'd lost everything they had built.
At around one in the afternoon, Musu had returned to the station, this time clinging to hope and whispered prayers. She sat stiffly on the bench just outside the inspector's office, her hands locked together in her lap, her eyes darting toward every uniform that passed.
She had called Esther multiple times that morning, desperate for an update. Esther, sounding worn and hesitant, had finally told her that Daniel had refused her pleas, he would not be taking back the case.
Still, Musu came. Because hope, fragile and foolish as it sometimes was, had a way of dragging people forward even when logic told them to sit still.
An hour into her wait, a man appeared, sharp black suit, briefcase in hand, and a cool detachment in his voice. He introduced himself as a representative from Mr. Lewis's office.
"Mr. Lewis is dropping the charges against Miss Sarah Cole," he said simply, pulling out a document from the folder tucked under his arm. He laid it before the inspector, the signature already scribbled across the final page, official and cold.
There was no further discussion.
The inspector gave a curt nod and waved over a junior officer. "Release her."
And just like that, Sarah's time in custody came to an end.
Minutes later, the holding area door creaked open. Musu rose to her feet, heart thudding, anticipation and quiet relief building in her chest.
Sarah stepped out as though she had only been away for lunch.
Chin high, hair immaculately in place, not a wrinkle on her blouse. The officer beside her read out the terms of her release, but she paid him no mind. The words weren't important.
She was free.
And just as she had expected.
A slow, smug smile curled on her lips, unapologetic, triumphant. She had always known Esther would cave. Esther, with her soft heart and foolish ideals. Predictable. Weak. Stupid.
All it had taken were their mother's tears and some trembling words, and like always, Esther folded.
Family over justice.
Love over sense.
Exactly the kind of decision Sarah knew how to manipulate.
Her smile deepened at the thought of the real twist to come, the truth Esther had yet to discover. That she wasn't even truly one of them. Not by blood. Not by birth.
When that revelation hit, it would be a show worth watching.
And Sarah would be front row.
Musu slowly approached her, eyes scanning her daughter from head to toe, searching for any signs of harm. Her heart settled just a little as she reached out and wrapped her arms around Sarah's shoulders. "Thank God you're free," she breathed, pulling her into a tight hug.
"Ma," Sarah said flatly, pushing back at her chest, "that's enough." She straightened her dress, brushing off invisible creases. Her mother handed her the phone, and she snatched it without a word, her eyes already on the screen.
"You should call Esther," Musu said, gently brushing something off Sarah's cheek. "Thank her for talking to Mr. Lewis."
"And why should I?" Sarah's voice was sharp, annoyed.
"What do you mean why? Sarah, she helped get you out. Had it not been for her, you wouldn't be out here talking freely."
"And had it not been for her and her husband, I wouldn't have been behind bars to begin with," Sarah snapped, rolling her eyes. "They didn't do me any favors. They just cleaned up the mess they made."
"God, Sarah, you're impossible. How can you be so ungrateful? Your sister"
"Can you please stop calling her my sister?" Sarah cut in, her voice laced with venom. She shot a hard look at her mother. "She's not my sister. We aren't related, and you know that. So stop forcing a bond that doesn't exist."
Musu stood there, lips parted, but the words stuck in her throat. She stared at the daughter she had raised, the sharpness in her voice, the cold glint in her eyes. Sarah was changing, or perhaps had already changed, and she couldn't find the strength to correct her.
"I'll call her if I have time," Sarah said dismissively, waving her hand like she was swatting a fly. "Just stop bugging me."
"Thank you," Musu exhaled, her voice tight with emotion. "Sarah, I really hope you'll change this time. You were lucky, this time. But there's no guarantee there'll be a next. So please, whatever you do, don't act foolishly again."
But Sarah wasn't listening. Her mind was far from the warnings, already lost in thoughts of her own.
"Are you even listening to me?" Musu asked, raising her voice in frustration.
"Yes, yes," Sarah muttered. "Now please, can I go? I have somewhere important to be."
And without waiting for a reply, she turned and walked off. Her heels tapped sharply against the tiled floor, each step echoing her detachment. No nod. No thanks. No remorse.
Because Sarah had no intention of staying out of trouble.
As she reached the exit, she tossed a final glance over her shoulder, eyes sharp, smile cool.
She had another agenda in mind, and now, with her freedom restored and her sister's weakness confirmed, it was time to act on it.
And just like that, Sarah was back inside the walls of the Jallohs' company building.
The receptionist barely had time to announce her before the office door swung open, bold and unapologetic. Her heels struck the marble tiles with precision, each step deliberate, echoing with the kind of confidence only Sarah Cole carried.
Alhaji Jalloh looked up from behind his glass desk, surprise flickering across his features. He leaned back, his eyes briefly scanning her.
"Sarah?"
She smiled faintly, closing the door behind her with a soft click. "I'm back."
"I can see that," he replied evenly, though his composure barely concealed his shock. She was supposed to be locked away, disgraced and out of the picture. Yet here she was, in his office, untouched, unbothered.
"Good," she said, stepping further in. "Because you left me to rot behind those bars."
Her voice was calm, but her words cut like glass.
Alhaji gave a small sigh, adjusting his cufflinks. "I won't deny it," he said smoothly. "But it wasn't about cruelty. I was protecting what we have. Any attempt to help you, any visible connection, would've only triggered Daniel's suspicions."
"Of course," Sarah said, her tone laced with sarcasm. She walked over to his shelf, trailing her manicured fingers across the edge like she owned the space. "God forbid we upset Daniel Lewis."
He didn't respond. His silence was agreement enough.
"So," she continued, turning back to him. "I presume you're surprised to see me."
Alhaji tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing with interest. "Surprised you're out, yes. Last I heard, Lewis was unshakable on the charges."
Sarah laughed under her breath as she made her way toward his desk, every movement deliberate, controlled. "That's because you've never met my dear sister properly," she said. "One emotional plea from Mommy dearest and she caved. She convinced her husband to drop everything. Family loyalty, forgiveness, all that sentimental trash."
She sat down across from him, legs crossed, her cold smile settling into place. "Touching, isn't it?"
Alhaji watched her closely now, his intrigue replacing his surprise. Sarah wasn't back for reconciliation—she was back with a plan.
And if he knew anything about Sarah Cole, it was this: when she smiled like that, someone was going to regret it.
"So, what now? You drop in to brag?"
"No," she said, settling into the chair opposite him, crossing her legs with poise. "I came for that job offer you once made."
He tilted his head. "That offer expired the day you were arrested. Why should I hire you now?"
Sarah didn't blink. "Because I bring value."
"Everyone says that," he said, folding his hands. "Be specific."
She leaned in, voice low but confident. "Besides keeping our little secrets buried," she began, "I have something better. Something Daniel Lewis thinks is locked away in his world of codes and clearance levels."
Alhaji raised a brow, suddenly more attentive.
"I'm talking about Sentinel X," she whispered.
There was a pause.
Alhaji's fingers tapped slowly on the desk. "You have information on a discreet government project?"
"I have more than just information," Sarah said, her eyes glittering. "I know where he works. Who he reports to. What the system does. I've been in the house where the files are stored. Esther might play loyal wife, but she leaves cracks everywhere. And I… pay attention."
Alhaji was silent for a moment, weighing the danger, the opportunity.
Then he smiled slowly.
"Welcome aboard, Sarah."