And right after the meeting, Alhaji was in his office, already thick with the familiar scent of Sarah's perfume. It clung to the air, floral with a sharp, possessive edge.
His gaze caught her instantly,seated across from him, blouse slipped halfway down her shoulder, legs crossed with intent. Her eyes locked onto his with that deliberate stillness that always warned something dangerous was near.
"That took long," she murmured, her voice low and velvet-smooth as she uncrossed her legs and slowly stood.
"Sorry to keep you waiting," Alhaji said, reaching to caress the curve of her exposed thigh. "I had to make sure everything's perfect. This time… I have to beat Daniel."
His tone had cooled to ice.
"And you will," Sarah whispered, slipping closer, her lips brushing against his ear. "Because you have me."
Her fingers traced lightly down his spine, clinging to him like silk just as her lips hovered over his..
Click.
The office door swung open.
And Sarah didn't flinch.
She didn't pull away, didn't retreat or blush or adjust her blouse. No. Her hand remained firm against Alhaji's back, her posture provocative, defiant.
Jariatu stood at the doorway. Still. Silent. Her eyes caught the entire tableau, every intimate inch, and held it.
Her breath caught in her throat. Her fingers dug into her sides as she fought to maintain control. The week had already been one of cold wars and subtle sabotage. But this, this was Sarah's declaration.
A direct challenge.
And Jariatu wasn't naïve. She knew better than to feed Sarah's fire. She would not scream. She would not cry. She would not give her the drama she craved.
"I see you two are… busy," Jariatu said softly, her voice calm but edged with razor steel.
Alhaji, finally noticing her presence, jerked back from Sarah like a man burned. He rounded the desk quickly, trying to mask the chaos in his expression as he sat down.
"Jariatu, um… I wa," Alhaji stammered, eyes darting between both women. "I was helping Sarah get dirt out of her eye."
Even he didn't believe it. His voice trembled, weak and thin.
"I see," Jariatu said plainly, eyes flicking from her breathless husband to Sarah, who wore a smug smile that pierced right through her.
"Well," Jariatu continued, keeping her tone flat, "if you're done… getting the dirt out of her eye, I'd like a word with her."
"Of course," Alhaji answered too quickly.
Jariatu turned on her heel and walked out, her calm gait concealing the storm under her skin. Sarah followed without protest, as if amused by it all.
Outside, far enough from curious ears, Jariatu stopped, turned, and without hesitation, slapped Sarah hard across the face.
The sound cracked in the air.
"I told you, keep your hands off my husband."
Sarah slowly turned her head back, rubbing her cheek, and then, smiled.
"Maybe you should tell your husband that. Last I checked, he's the one who can't get enough of me."
Her words stung worse than the slap. She stepped closer, eyes locked with Jariatu's. "Don't blame me because you're not enough to keep him satisfied."
Jariatu's chest rose, lips parting in fury. She raised her hand again, but this time, Sarah caught it mid-air.
"Don't you dare," she hissed. "I'm not someone you bully in your pretty silence. Push me, and I'll push back harder."
She flung Jariatu's hand aside.
Jariatu laughed dryly and stepped in. "You can't compete with me, child. Today, you're his favorite. Tomorrow, you'll be forgotten. Just like the others."
Sarah's jaw tightened. "I'm not like the others. I'm not passing time, I'm the future. I'll be his wife."
That broke the air.
Jariatu narrowed her gaze. "You think Alhaji will marry you? Put a bride price on your head?" Her voice lowered, cutting. "He won't. Because you're nothing but a free cloth."
Sarah's face shifted, offended, but far from broken. "Then prepare to weep when you see this 'free cloth' walk into your home as his second wife. And you'll do nothing about it. Because he has every right."
Jariatu's smile faded slowly as those words hit. It was true. Alhaji had every right, as a Muslim man, he could take another wife. And she, as the first, couldn't stop him.
But that didn't mean she would allow Sarah to be the one.
Not while she still had strength in her body.
Sarah walked off, her heels clicking like war drums across the tiled floor. Her mind was made up. Being Alhaji's wife had never been her mission, until now.
Now, it was sport.
And Sarah never backed down from a challenge.
And somewhere inside LewisTech, Esther made her way through the lobby with ease. The receptionist offered her a polite smile, already recognizing her. Her eyes swept the room until they landed on a familiar figure, Dija, standing near the counter.
Without hesitation, Esther's steps quickened, driven by a blend of relief and urgency.
Dija, standing near the counter, head slightly bowed as she exchanged a document with the front desk.
Without hesitation, Esther walked toward her, relief easing her shoulders and concern urging her steps.
"There you are," she said warmly, nodding to the receptionist who greeted her before turning her full attention to Dija, whose polite smile flickered into place.
"Why haven't you been picking my calls?" she asked quietly, though her worry pressed through. "Are you alright?"
"Yes," Dija said with calm restraint, quickly taking a paper from the counter. "Sorry. I was caught up with work. I'm running behind on a deadline."
She gestured gently for Esther to follow her, and they moved down a quieter hallway.
Ever since her position at LewisTech had been upgraded, the responsibilities piled higher, and her days stretched longer. She barely had time to catch her breath, let alone check her phone.
"Anyway, why are you here?" Dija asked, glancing sideways at her. "Don't tell me it's just because I didn't pick up."
"That," Esther said, following her into a small enclosed office space, "and because your mother showed up at my office today."
Dija paused briefly but said nothing as Esther pulled a chair for herself and sat down.
"You moved in with Thomas?" Esther asked. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"I meant to," Dija admitted, sitting back with a tired sigh. "I just didn't get around to it. Everything's been a bit… hectic. But I should've told you. I'm sorry."
Esther sighed, not out of frustration, but concern. "It's okay. I'm not upset. I just want to be sure you're alright. How's the arrangement? Are you safe? Comfortable? If you want to move in with us, Daniel and I can make that happen."
"Esther," Dija said softly, cutting in. "I'm good. Really. His place has been great. And his family? So kind. It's… peaceful."
Esther still looked hesitant. "I know, but I can't help worrying. Are you sure, truly sure, this is what you want?"
"Yes," Dija said softly, "and I appreciate it. But I'm okay."
She leaned back slightly, her tone warm and grounded.
"Honestly, I'm just glad I finally got the chance to stand up for myself. I didn't know how much I needed this until I left my mother's house."
For the first time in her life, Dija felt like she could breathe. It hadn't been easy, not at all. But she had learned to cope, to stretch herself, to grow.
She didn't have the lavish comfort of a mansion anymore. But what she had now, love, peace, and a voice of her own, was more valuable than anything she'd left behind.
Esther gave a small, proud smile, her heart warmed even as worry lingered quietly beneath it.
Just then, the door creaked open and Thomas stepped in, a brown paper bag in one hand and a bottle of juice in the other. His tie was slightly loosened, his sleeves rolled up. He looked tired, but content.
"Sorry to interrupt," he said, spotting Esther. He gave a respectful nod. "Didn't know we had company."
Esther stood with a half-smile. "Not company. Just a worried friend."
Thomas chuckled lightly as he placed the food on the desk in front of Dija. "Well, here's lunch. Figured you'd forget again."
Dija smiled up at him, a little sheepish. "You figured right."
Esther folded her arms, watching the easy warmth between them. "Has Daniel eaten?" she asked suddenly, glancing from Thomas to Dija.
Thomas shook his head. "Not yet. He's still at the Subdivision," he said. He'd been at it all day. Barely took a breath. Ever since the last meeting with the government reps didn't go as planned, he had been doubling efforts to ensure everything was precise.
"He should be back, probably in a few hours," he added, a bit uncertain, as he began unwrapping the lunch box.
Esther's smile dimmed slightly. "That explains why he's been coming home late," she muttered under her breath, more to herself than them. Then she looked down at her phone, her screen filled with unread messages she'd sent him. "Can you remind him to take a break and eat, please?"
"I'll definitely do that when I return," Thomas replied quickly. "Also.."
Before he could finish, both Esther's and Dija's phones buzzed at once.
They glanced at each other, then grabbed their phones in sync. A WhatsApp call lit up both screens, and Zianab's voice crackled through the speakers.
"Hey," she said cheerfully, but her voice held a tired, stressed edge. "I know you two are probably busy, but I need you here. Otherwise, you're picking me up from the police station tonight."
She let out a soft, strained laugh that didn't match her words.
Esther leaned in. "Where are you?"
"At Chapter One. Probably in the special section," Zianab replied quickly, then the line cut off in dead static.
Esther and Dija exchanged a look, no questions needed.
Without another word, they stood, grabbing their bags. Dija mouthed a quick sorry to Thomas as they moved.
"Wait, what just happened?" he asked, bewildered.
But they were already gone, heels clicking briskly across the polished floors, urgency in their stride.
Whatever this was, Zianab had dragged them into it.
The glow of neon signage washed over the blacked-out car windows as they pulled up to Chapter One, one of the more private, upscale lounges in the city. Security already recognized them as Zianab's guests and let them through with a nod.
Inside, the main floor buzzed with quiet music and laughter, but the private room, tucked off to the side behind velvet curtains, was dimly lit, sleek, and intimate.
Zianab sat alone in the corner booth, a low table in front of her already covered in half-opened bottles, untouched wine glasses, and an untouched cheese platter. Her makeup was perfect, but her smile was off. It didn't reach her eyes.
Esther was the first to step into the private lounge.
"Are you alright? What's wrong?" she asked quickly, eyes scanning Zianab from head to toe, then darting around the dim room, half expecting someone else, something else.
Zianab gave a small, flat smile, already lifting her wine glass. "I'm fine. Just drinking. And probably needed company."
Esther's brows drew together. "Wait, what?" Her voice rose with a mix of relief and frustration. "You called us all the way here… for a drink?"
Zianab's apologetic expression said everything her words didn't.
"Zee," Esther continued, exasperated, "do you have any idea how worried I was? You scared me. You literally said something about the police"
"I was joking," Zianab cut in, her voice low and calm. She gave a tired smirk and gestured toward the booth. "Sit down. You two took forever."
Dija dropped her bag on the seat beside her, already eyeing the drinks. "You've been drinking?"
"Barely," Zianab said. "Just staring at them. Thinking. Regretting some life choices. You know… usual Thursday night stuff."
Esther crossed her arms. "Zee, what's going on?"
Zianab looked at them both, her fingers nervously spinning the stem of her wine glass.
Then she dropped it:
"Sankoh proposed."
Both Dija and Esther froze.
Esther blinked. "Wait, what?"
Dija gasped, a grin already trying to push through her surprise. "He did?! Oh my God!"
Zianab nodded slowly, eyes lowered.
"He asked this morning. Candlelit dinner. Ring and everything. It was… perfect." Zianab laughed weakly, the sound catching somewhere in her chest. "And here I am, freaking out. Drinking alone."
The proposal had taken her completely by surprise. She'd only stopped by his place for what should've been a quick visit, simple, brief, like so many before. But this one had something waiting, something planned. Something permanent.
Esther leaned forward, elbows resting gently on the table. "Isn't that a good thing? Zee, you two love each other, don't you?"
"I do," Zianab said quickly, almost defensively. "And I know he loves me too. He's kind. Thoughtful. Good to me in all the right ways."
She paused, fingers tightening around her wine glass.
"But still… I froze. I didn't say yes. I didn't say anything. I just smiled like a fool, kissed him, and left."
Esther's expression softened. Dija watched quietly, knowing what might be coming.
"Then what's the problem?" Esther asked gently, though something in her gut already told her what it was.
"I don't know," Zianab murmured. "He's good. He's different from…" She stopped herself. The name didn't need to be said.
They all knew it. The ex-fiancé. The one who called off the wedding the day before. The ghost that still haunted her, quiet but constant.
Zianab swallowed. "I guess… I just don't want to go through that again. We haven't even been together a year. What if he's rushing into this? What if he wakes up one day and realizes I'm not what he wants?"
Her voice cracked slightly at the end. "I'm scared."
Esther reached for her hand across the table. "Zee. He's not the same man. You know that, right?"
"I know," Zianab whispered. "But my heart doesn't."
Silence settled for a moment, gentle and full.
Then Dija smiled softly. "You want to say yes, don't you?"
Zianab didn't answer right away, but the way her fingers brushed the edge of her phone, where a photo of Sankoh's smiling face glowed softly on the screen, said it all.
"Yes," she whispered, almost to herself. "I really do."
"Then stop worrying about what tomorrow holds," Esther said gently. "Tomorrow will always be a probability. So focus less on the what-ifs… and stay true to today."
"Exactly," Dija added with a confident smile. "I fought my fears. I stood up for myself. If I can do it, so can you. And either way, we've got your back."
Zianab let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. Relief, like silk, wrapped itself around her shoulders. Their words soaked in, warm, real, and exactly what she needed.
"Thank you. Both of you," she said, eyes darting between her sister and her friend. "And to show my appreciation…"
She grinned, the mischief returning to her eyes.
"…I've arranged something special."
Before they could react, she clapped her hands once.
And then, they walked in.
A line of ten, maybe twenty shirtless men strutted into the room, toned, confident, and wearing nothing but designer boxers. Every one of them looked like they'd just walked off the set of a perfume ad.
Esther's jaw dropped. "Good Lord, Zee, what is this?!"
Zianab laughed, already sipping from her glass again. "Something spectacular."
Dija's eyes were wide, locked on the approaching sea of abs. "Are you trying to thank us or get us divorced?"
"Both," Zianab said sweetly, not missing a beat. "But mostly, I want you two to loosen up. You've both been carrying the world on your backs. These men? They're here to help you forget about it, for one night at least."
"Zee…" Esther warned, half-hiding behind her hand, trying not to laugh. "You're impossible."
"You're welcome," Zianab sang, clapping again as the music kicked in and the men began to dance, fluid, confident, and with full eye contact like they were paid extra for intensity.
"And don't even try to leave," she added with a wink. "I paid in full. Every one of these beautiful distractions cost me a thousand Leones. So sit back, sip something strong, and enjoy the chaos."
"You're going to love it," she finished, raising her glass high with a grin as wide as the Nile.
The night had deepened to eight when Amadou stepped into the study of Alhaji Jalloh's house. Alhaji sat patiently, eyes sharp and fixed on the door, waiting.
"How far?" Alhaji asked the moment Amadou crossed the threshold, his gaze cutting.
"Kortor," Amadou replied softly, folding his arms across his chest. "I…"
"Don't you dare give me bad news again," Alhaji interrupted, voice cold and hard. "This time, I want good news."
Amadou swallowed, then spoke carefully. "I'm still on it. I've assigned several private investigators, but there's still no trace of her. The last leads suggest she may be dead, or taken out of the country."
Alhaji's fist slammed on the desk as he rose to his full height, eyes blazing with anger and disbelief. "Don't you dare," he growled. "Rahmatu is alive. I will find her. It's been nineteen years, and I will not stop."
Nineteen years ago, it felt like yesterday, that terrible day when he and his sister had gone out for a simple trip. One moment he had turned away to speak to the ice cream man; the next, she was gone, lost in the holiday crowds.
Nineteen years of searching, endless dead ends, and heartbreak.
"Kortor," Alhaji said, his voice low but fierce, "we will find her. I'll hire more investigators. Double the search. No matter where she is… I'll find her."
"You better," he declared, voice heavy with resolve and pain. "No matter where my sister is, dead or alive, I will find her. And I will bring her home."
For a moment, the room fell silent, the weight of nineteen years pressing down on them both.
Alhaji's eyes darkened with memories he could never forget, the last time he saw her smile, the way she had clung to his hand that day. How, in one careless moment, his attention had faltered. The crowd had swallowed her whole, and with her, a piece of his soul.
He ran a trembling hand through his hair, the regret seeping into every crease on his face.
"Nineteen years…" he murmured, voice cracking, "and every day I relive that moment. If only I hadn't turned away for a second… if only I'd held her tighter…"
His breath hitched as the old wound opened anew. "I should have protected her. I failed her. And now…" He slammed his fist on the desk again, eyes blazing with fury and sorrow. "I won't stop until she's back where she belongs."
The fire in his gaze wasn't just about power or revenge, it was about a brother's promise, a man haunted by the past, desperate to right a wrong that had shaped his entire life.