The soft rays of early morning sun filtered through the sheer curtains of the Cole household. Chatter and muffled voices filled the air of the modest four-room apartment. From the kitchen, the sizzle of frying plantains mingled with the warm aroma of brewed tea, drifting through the home like a gentle invitation. Musu Cole, mother to three daughters, Zianab, Sarah, and Esther, carefully flipped the golden plantains in the pan with a practiced hand.
"Good morning, Mom," Zianab greeted as she walked into the kitchen, heading straight for the fridge. Her natural Afro hair fell loosely over her shoulders.
"Esther!" she called out, making her way to the dining room. "Esther!" Her voice rose with impatience. "You're going to be late again!"
Esther groaned under her blanket, stretching like a lazy cat before sitting up. Her bonnet had failed to protect her hair from her wild sleeping habits, and her oversized nightshirt read: Coffee First, Questions Later.
"You know, one of these days, they're going to kick you out of class for always being late," Sarah said from the doorway, arms folded.
Sarah, the middle sister, always had a flair for the dramatic. Even in a middle-class home like theirs, she carried herself with the elegance and ambition of someone born into luxury. She was unapologetically bold and had a taste for life that far exceeded their financial means, but her loyalty to her family was fierce.
"I'm already up. Would you and your sidekick stop bugging me?" Esther grumbled as she swung her legs out of bed and trudged toward the bathroom.
Barely thirty minutes later, Esther was at the dining table, joining her sisters.
"Well, that was fast," Sarah teased between bites of bread.
"Haha, very funny. I'm not a snail like you who takes an hour in the shower," Esther shot back, spreading butter over her slice.
"That's because I make sure every inch of me is spotless and I smell like roses before I step out," Sarah replied smugly, her signature smirk in place.
"That's enough, both of you. Eat and get ready for work," Zianab cut in, her voice firm enough to silence the morning banter.
"I heard what you did yesterday," Sarah said, nudging Esther's arm. "Very commendable, sis."
A friend had filled Sarah in on the chaos Esther had caused at Abu's wedding, and truth be told, she was thrilled. Sarah had wanted to do worse to Abu herself, but Zianab had begged her not to. Being someone who respected boundaries, she'd obeyed, but Esther? Esther had delivered.
"Honestly, I was hoping you'd go further than just crashing the wedding. We should seriously hire someone to beat that guy up," Sarah added. "I always knew he was no good for you, but you wouldn't listen. You were so blinded by love that.."
"Sarah," Esther cut in with a sharp glance.
She wasn't wrong, Sarah had warned them both, but this wasn't the time. Zianab was still hurting, even if she tried to cover it with smiles and calm.
"No, it's okay," Zianab said quietly, placing her glass gently on the table. "She's right. I should have listened."
Before the mood could dip further, Musu entered with a warm smile and a plate of freshly fried plantains.
"Alright, enough gloom. The plantains are ready," she announced, setting the plate down.
Just like that, the heavy air in the room began to lift, the scent of breakfast wrapping them all in the familiar comfort of home.
"That's enough for me, I'm off to work," Sarah announced, grabbing her bag and giving her dress a quick straightening.
"Off so early? It's only half past six," Musu said with concern, eyeing her closely. "At least have some plantains before you go."
"Mom, I've had enough," Sarah replied with a light chuckle. "A minute late and I could lose my job. My boss isn't exactly sunshine and roses. Besides, I'm watching my weight."
With a rushed kiss on her mother's cheek, she was out the door.
"What weight is she even watching?" Musu muttered, shaking her head. "She already looks like a skeleton."
Zainab smiled faintly. "I'm off too, Mom. Take care of yourself, okay?" she said as she headed for the door with her usual composed stride.
Esther leaned back in her seat, fork in hand. "Don't look at me. I'm not due in class till nine. I've got all the time in the world to finish these plantains."
Her mother chuckled softly. "And yet I wonder where all that food goes with how much you eat."
"That's a typical mom thing to say," Esther said dramatically, popping a piece of plantain into her mouth. "You complain when Sarah doesn't eat, and also complain when I eat too much."
"I'm not complaining," Musu laughed, gathering the empty plates from the table. "Just wondering which stomach stores all that food."
"Well, for your information, it's being stored in a premium-grade stomach that keeps its owner in perfect shape," Esther replied with a grin, hopping up to follow her mother into the kitchen. "Thanks for breakfast, by the way."
She wrapped her arms around her mother in a quick hug before adding more seriously, "You know, I really think we should consider hiring someone to help around the house. All this work and constant water on your hands, it's not good for your health."
"Oh, please," Musu waved her off. "That's just a waste of money."
"I'm serious, Mom. I'm making money now. It should be enough to hire someone part-time to help you out."
But her mother only shook her head with a fond smile. "I know you mean well, my dear. But these little chores don't need extra hands. Save your money for yourself, you're just starting out. You'll need it more than I do."
Before Esther could argue further, her phone rang from the dining room. With a reluctant sigh, she broke away from the conversation.
"Saved by the bell," Musu said teasingly.
Esther returned a smile over her shoulder. "We'll talk about it later."
Moments later, she had answered her call, grabbed her bag, and kissed her mother goodbye.
"Have a great day, my dear!" Musu called after her as the door closed behind her youngest child.
Meanwhile, at the other end of the city , the towering structure of the Lewis Empire stood proudly in the heart of the city, a magnificent glass-and-steel marvel that shimmered like a blade under the morning sun. With thirty-five floors, the company wasn't just a tech giant, it was a symbol of excellence, power, and discipline. Inside, the air was crisp with quiet authority, and no detail went unnoticed.
Employees hustled through the expansive marble lobby, their polished shoes tapping rhythmically against the floor. Sleek elevators stood like sentinels at the far end, but one, the private one in the center, remained untouched. No one dared to even glance at it for too long.
That was Mr. Daniel Lewis's elevator.
"Is he in yet?" whispered a junior intern to her colleague, nervously adjusting her ID card.
"Not yet," the woman replied, barely turning her head. "But he's always here by 8:00. On the dot."
It was 7:59.
Instantly, the entire floor seemed to tense with collective awareness. Conversations died mid-sentence. Coffee cups were set down. Laptops snapped open. Phones were picked up with unnecessary urgency. Everyone returned to their desks with military precision, back straight, eyes alert, hands ready on keyboards. It was almost like a dress rehearsal for judgment day.
Across the open-plan floor of the 20th level, where key department heads operated, a low buzz was replaced with silence so thick it could be sliced. Even the printers stopped whirring.
Whispers turned to thoughts.
"I hope he doesn't ask about last week's report, God knows I'm not ready."
"If I even sneeze wrong, I'm done."
"He's a perfectionist. One typo, and you're on his blacklist."
"But he built all this… from nothing. You have to respect that."
Daniel Lewis's reputation was legendary, his brilliance rivaled only by his intensity. A man who valued excellence, he was known to dismantle a proposal with a single sentence or notice a missing punctuation mark in a 20-page contract. He was cold, calculated, and utterly magnetic. No one could deny his presence, even when he wasn't in the room, it lingered like a watchful eye.
And just then…
Ding.
The private elevator lit up.
He was here.
He never needed bodyguards or assistants flanking him, his aura was enough. The sound of his polished shoes against the floor echoed like a metronome of power. He walked with his hands in his pockets, his tailored suit fitting like armor. Every employee he passed lowered their gaze with respect, not out of fear alone, but reverence.
Three years of working under Daniel Lewis, and Sarah had long mastered her poker face. Sitting at her desk outside his office, she glanced at the clock as he passed.
8:00 a.m. sharp.
Without a word, he gave her a small nod.
"Good morning, Mr. Lewis," she said smoothly, rising with a file in hand.
"Morning, Mis Williams . Be in, in one minutes," he replied, his voice deep and steady before disappearing into his office.
As the door clicked shut, the collective breath on the floor was finally released.
And not a second laid on the minute given, Sarah was in the crisp, clean lines of Daniel's office which gave the impression of a man who not only valued control but maintained an almost militaristic discipline over his environment. The room, with its dark mahogany furniture and sleek glass accents, mirrored the personality of its owner: calculated, precise, and commanding. The scent of freshly brewed coffee lingered in the air, blending with the soft hum of city life outside the floor-to-ceiling windows.
Sarah stood before Daniel's desk, hands neatly clasped in front of her, the very picture of professionalism. She wore the tailored black dress she had chosen carefully in the morning, knowing how much it mattered in this exact moment. The glossy sheen of her dark laced hair was just right, and her makeup, expertly done, remained subtle yet alluring, nothing too over-the-top, but enough to garner attention if needed.
Daniel, sat across from her, studying a few papers. His chiseled features were as unreadable as ever, his dark eyes betraying little emotion. His posture was upright, every inch the strong and resolute CEO who had built a tech empire. But as Sarah approached, there was the slightest, almost imperceptible shift in his gaze, brief, but there.
"Morning, Mr. Lewis," she greeted again, her voice smooth but with an edge of reverence that she knew he appreciated.
"Mis Williams ," Daniel muttered, not looking up from his papers. "What am up for today"
"Not much," she said, standing at attention. "Here's the schedule for the day," she added, setting the neatly organized folder in front of him. "You have a meeting with the investors at 10, followed by a lunch with the board members. At 2, your assistant has set up a call with the developers in Berlin. After that, the annual performance review starts at 4."
"Good," Daniel responded, glancing at the schedule only briefly before setting it aside. He wasn't particularly interested in the minutiae of his day, he trusted Sarah to handle the details. "Anything urgent?"
"There's a slight issue with the Berlin team's progress," Sarah continued, her tone professional, but just a touch of concern laced it to show she was engaged. "I've sent them a follow-up email, but they're asking for an extension on the deadline. We might need to discuss their performance review later this week."
Daniel raised an eyebrow. "Noted. Make sure they know we don't entertain excuses."
"Of course," Sarah nodded, locking eyes with him for just a fraction of a second longer than necessary, before turning her attention back to the files in front of her. She made sure her voice stayed even and cool. "Also, your assistant, Thomas, requested if you'd be free for a quick strategy meeting tomorrow afternoon."
"I'll confirm with Thomas," Daniel replied, shifting his attention back to his computer screen.
Sarah was no fool; she knew the game. She had spent the last three years, every day, analyzing Daniel, learning his every quirk, every habit, every subtle hint of vulnerability he showed. And she knew there was a part of him, buried deep down, that could be persuaded, swayed. His loyalty to his late wife was unshakable, but she believed with all her heart that her relentless professionalism and unyielding ambition could break through.
But it wasn't just about career advancement. Sarah had learned long ago that the world was a game, and to win, you had to make moves that others didn't see coming.
She could sense his guardedness, but that only made her more determined. She'd been working in his shadow long enough, now it was her turn to shine. Every piece of her work had been calculated to stand out. She was good at what she did, outstanding even. And yet, she had always noticed how Daniel was oblivious to it, focused only on the business side of things. He didn't see her, the way she had designed herself to be seen.
"Mr. Lewis, if you don't mind," Sarah added, her voice just a touch softer now, her eyes flicking to the door before returning to him. "I've been thinking about the new project you're launching. I'm confident that my experience could help elevate it even further. Perhaps, if you allow me, I could assist you directly with the presentation to the board next week."
She let her words hang in the air, almost as if giving him a moment to consider her offer, the implied undertone of 'I'm here, I'm capable, and I'm ready.' She waited for his response with a professional smile.
Daniel didn't respond right away. His gaze was focused on the stack of papers before him, but Sarah didn't miss the brief flicker of something, was it a pause in thought? A hesitation?
He leaned back in his chair, the stoic leader once again. "I appreciate your dedication, Mis Williams . But we've been over this. Your role is important, but you know where your focus should be."
Sarah forced herself to keep the smile in place, though the sting of his indifference brushed against her. She could feel the frustration in her chest, but she had long ago learned to hide it. Her ambition wouldn't let her waver.
"I understand, Mr. Lewis," she said smoothly, not missing a beat. "I'll continue to keep the company's best interests at heart, as always."
Just then, Daniel stood up, straightening his suit jacket. "Good. I trust you'll take care of the Berlin issue. And you can leave the rest of the schedule to Thomas."
With that, he turned to walk toward the window, his back to her. Sarah's eyes followed him, the cogs of her mind turning. She could feel the distance between them, a distance that had been there ever since his wife's passing. But Sarah also knew that no distance was impossible to overcome if you played the game right.
"Of course, Mr. Lewis," Sarah said one last time before she turned to leave, her heels clicking on the cold marble floor.
But as she closed the door behind her, a sly smile crept across her face. She had all the time in the world.
At around 10:30 a.m, the morning light melted away like a sugar in a coffee as the city buzzed beneath a warm noonday sun, casting golden halos across the grounds of Lovet Academy. Birds chirped along the fences, and laughter from a nearby playground filled the air with youthful energy.
Esther had just arrived, the straps of her backpack slung over one shoulder, her notebook tucked under her arm. She moved with purpose, her morning class longer than expected but was behind her, and now her real work began.
Inside the therapy wing of the academy, the familiar scent of crayons, hand sanitizer, and floor polish wrapped around her like a welcome mat. But today felt different. Even before she reached her assigned room, her gut told her something was off.
And she was right.
Because sitting in the far corner of the observation room, arms folded and eyes sharp with challenge, was none other than Betty Lewis.
The girl was dressed immaculately, her pale yellow dress spotless, her shoes shining like they'd just been polished. But it wasn't her appearance that caught Esther's attention, it was the way she stared.
Unblinking.
Expressionless.
Almost as if she was daring Esther to try her usual cheerful approach.
Esther smiled faintly to herself as she stepped inside, closing the door behind her. So… this was the infamous Betty. And she could already tell: today would be far from easy.
But Esther wasn't one to back down from a challenge.