The wrought iron gates creaked open with a subtle groan, ushering a sleek black SUV into the compound. The house, tucked away in one of the quieter districts of the city, stood secluded, far from public eyes and prying ears.
Sarah stepped out the moment the car door was opened by Amadou, Alhaji's younger brother, who had picked her up from a discreet roadside location where she had waited.
It was five in the morning, an odd hour for most, but not for Alhaji. When he requested a meeting, it wasn't one easily declined.
"This way. Kotor is expecting you," Amadou said, his voice composed, though his gaze lingered longer than it should have.
Sarah's red silk dress clung to her figure in ways that defied the morning chill, her flawless skin almost glowing under the dim outdoor lights. Even a stone-faced man like Amadou found his eyes drawn, involuntarily, to the subtle dip of her neckline.
He cleared his throat, forcing his gaze away just as she offered a knowing wink, fully aware of the effect she had.
"This way, please," Amadou repeated, a little more briskly now, as he led her toward the staircase.
Sarah followed without a word, heels clicking softly against marble until she was led to the sitting lounge, plush, masculine, and smelling faintly of oud and leather.
Alhaji was there, in his kaftan, seated like a man who already knew he was winning.
"Sarah," he greeted, his voice smooth as aged wine. "You're always a breath of fresh air."
Sarah offered a polite smile, unbothered by the charm laced in his tone.
"This is quite an odd hour for a meeting," she remarked lightly.
"My apologies, my lady," Alhaji said, swirling the glass between his fingers, the rim tapping softly against his lips every few seconds. "But business doesn't sleep. We need to move quickly if we're going to bring Daniel Lewis down, before he suspects anything or starts to act."
"Right on cue," Sarah said, her smile turning cocky. "You asked for progress. I've come with results."
She reached into her handbag and pulled out a sleek black folder, placing it on the glass coffee table with calm precision and sliding it toward him.
Alhaji didn't reach for it immediately.
He watched her instead, eyes narrowed with interest. "You're efficient."
"I'm thorough," she corrected smoothly. "That's the complete client list from LewisTech's top-tier accounts, corporate, private, and even the classified contracts."
She leaned back with a self-satisfied glint in her eye. Years inside the company had earned her trust, access, and the ability to slip through digital doors unnoticed. Through smooth talk and strategic familiarity, she'd found the right backdoor, and after weeks of digging, pulled the data straight from their internal logs.
Alhaji raised a brow, finally picking up the folder, flipping through a few pages with growing interest. His lips curled ever so slightly. "Impressive."
"Everything you need to undermine their current growth and draw their investors toward you is in there," she said.
He closed the folder and leaned back in his seat, thoughtful.
"Daniel Lewis doesn't know who he's up against."
Sarah's lips curved into a smirk. "He will soon enough."
Alhaji nodded slowly, satisfied. "Good work. And this.." he tapped the folder lightly, "stays between us. No fingerprints. No trail."
"Of course," Sarah replied, already rising. "Just make sure you keep your end of the deal."
"You'll get everything you were promised," he assured her, "and more, once LewisTech falls."
But Sarah wasn't driven by promises of wealth or luxury. Revenge burned deeper. It wasn't just about Daniel turning her down, it was about Esther. Her perfect sister with the perfect life. Sarah didn't want her to lose comfort. She wanted her broken. She wanted to see Esther fall from grace, to crawl and beg, to weep as the empire she clung to crumbled beneath her.
Alhaji broke the silence with a call. "Amadou."
The door opened instantly, his younger brother stepping in.
"Take this back home," Alhaji ordered, handing him the folder. "Keep it in my study."
Amadou accepted it with a respectful nod, knowing better than to ask questions.
"And tell your Jaja I'll be home later. There are things I need to take care of."
His eyes flicked toward Sarah, his meaning clear.
"Come back in three hours," he added. "Miss Cole and I have… other matters to discuss."
Amadou hesitated for a beat, just long enough to understand exactly what his brother meant, then bowed again and quietly exited. Once again, he was being used as a shield for Alhaji's indulgences.
Sarah arched a brow, amused. "Other matters?"
"Matters like how breathtaking you look in red," Alhaji said, stepping closer.
His hands slid to her waist, drawing her firmly against him. "Has anyone told you how absolutely stunning you are?" he whispered, brushing his lips from her jaw to her ear.
"Let's get started, Miss Cole," he murmured, before lifting her off the floor in one swift motion and throwing her onto the couch.
Without wasting time, he got straight to the act, and within the hour, their business was done.
Sarah lay stretched across the couch, a lazy satisfaction curling at her lips as one leg elegantly crossed over the other, red dress slightly rumpled, but not a strand of her pride out of place. She held a glass of something expensive, swirling it slowly as she watched Alhaji pull his robe back over his broad frame.
"Was that part of the deal too?" she asked, arching a brow.
Alhaji chuckled, buttoning up. "Consider it… incentive."
She sipped her drink, unfazed. "Next time, make sure your so-called guards aren't lingering outside like schoolboys. One more glance from Amadou and I might charge extra."
Alhaji laughed, full and careless. "Let him look. All he'll ever do is look."
Silence hung between them briefly, the air thick with tension that had already played out.
Then Sarah stood, fixing her hair in the wall mirror. "I delivered what you asked. I expect updates."
"You'll get them. But don't get sentimental, Miss Cole," he said, approaching from behind. "We're allies, not lovers."
Sarah turned slightly, lips curved. "Who said I wanted more?"
"Good," Alhaji said, his voice low and steady. "Then you won't mind being my mistress."
He didn't bother to sugarcoat it. He knew her type, sharp, ambitious, and unbothered by titles as long as the perks were right.
Sarah arched a brow, amused. "And what exactly comes with that title?"
"Whatever you want. Comfort. Power. Luxury. Full access to my cards," he said, chuckling as her fingers traced slow patterns across his bare chest, slipping down to his abdomen.
"I accept," she whispered into his ear, her breath warm. "Should be fun."
Alhaji grinned. "I knew I liked you the moment I saw you. You don't cling, you calculate."
He slid her back onto his lap, hands settling at her hips. "Now tell me, what's next?"
"Next," she said, voice silken, "you bring John back. He's useful, he'll do your dirty work with no questions asked."
Alhaji's eyes sparkled. "You're dangerous."
"You haven't seen anything yet," Sarah replied, her tone cooling. "And while you're at it, don't just go for Daniel. Go for his beloved wife too. She's his weakness. Break her… and you break him."
Alhaji's brows rose. "Isn't she your sister?"
"If I ever saw her as one, I wouldn't be here plotting her downfall." Her voice was flat, bitter. "I want her ruined, right beside her perfect husband."
Alhaji leaned in, pleased. "Then your wish," he murmured, brushing his lips to hers, "is my command."
By eleven a.m, Esther's office looked more like a lounge than a doctor's workspace. Zianab was sprawled across the visitor's chair with a packet of cheese balls, and Dija was propped on the desk, swinging her legs and grinning like she'd won something.
Esther gave them both a withering look, though her amusement peeked through. "That's it. Two-week ban from this office. Effective immediately."
"Oh, please," Dija scoffed. "You weren't even seeing patients today."
"Technicality," Esther shot back. "I was meant to prepare for patients. But no, I have two professional distractions eating snacks and running their mouths."
"Clarification," Zianab chimed in, holding up a cheese ball like it was evidence in court. "Your secretary told us you had nothing scheduled until three."
Esther sighed dramatically. "She needs to be replaced. Her mouth is as loose as" her eyes flicked to Dija, "some people I know."
Dija gasped, feigning innocence. "Excuse me? I only spilled the tea because your husband practically burned a hole through my soul with that interrogation glare. Girl, I had to save myself. You were sacrificed for the greater good."
Esther shook her head, lips twitching. "You do realize he's going to keep circling until he feels satisfied, right?"
"Exactly my point. Steven's return is a whole mess," Dija muttered. "And why does he have to work in the same hospital as you?"
Zianab finally dropped her snack, narrowing her eyes with curiosity. "Wait, hold up. You're telling me the guy you confessed to in secondary school is now working with you?"
"Confessed, not proposed," Esther corrected flatly.
Zianab shrugged. "Same difference. You basically became a psychologist because of him, didn't you?" Her gaze scanned Esther's face, searching for cracks. She remembered it all too well, Esther coming home, obsessively drafting letters to the boy, convinced he'd come around. Her relentless pursuit had even cost her the top position in their class, slipping to second place because her head had been too full of him.
Zianab shook her head, brushing the memory off like a speck of dust.
"And you won't believe it," Dija jumped in, her voice aimed at Zianab, eyes gleaming. "He still wants her."
Esther groaned. "No, he doesn't. We're just colleagues. He knows I'm married."
"Doesn't mean he cares," Dija muttered. "I saw the way he looked at you yesterday, like a man waiting for time to rewind." And she had been too damn to not have noticed those stares, as a love expert she was.
"Okay, enough about my high school drama. What about you two?" Esther smoothly redirected. "Zianab?"
"Me?" Zianab blinked. "There's nothing to say."
"Oh, please," Esther leaned in, a teasing glint in her eyes. "Sankoh? The random pop-ins at your office? The gifts? The rumor that he asked you to be his girlfriend?" She pressed, already aware of Sankoh's intentions, Daniel had filled her in.
"He did," Zianab replied flatly. "And I said no."
"Girl, why?" Dija asked, her eyes widening. "He's hot and rich."
"I don't care. Guys like him, flashy, charming, they're usually the worst," Zianab said, though her tone didn't fully capture the reason. Deep down, it was more than just caution. Sankoh had a reputation for cycling through women like they were accessories. She'd even handled a dispute involving him and one of his many situationships. Having just begun to heal from her own messy breakup, the last thing she needed was to be anyone's rebound, or conquest.
Esther gave a thoughtful nod. "Mr. Lewis thinks he's serious about you."
Zianab waved the comment off with a scoff. "He probably tells that to every girl he dates."
Dija leaned over dramatically. "You'll cave. Sooner or later."
"And you," Zianab turned to Dija, "what's happening with Thomas? Has your mother finished scaring him yet?"
"Still in progress," Dija said with a tired sigh. "I keep telling Uncle D to help, but he's refusing to interfere."
Zianab chuckled. "That's probably for the best. Thomas needs to stand his ground."
"Ugh," Dija groaned. "Now I know who the real enemies of my love story are. And FYI, I'm not giving up. I'll convince him to accept my mom's condition." Then she softened, her voice turning cheeky. "Okay, fine, new topic. What's your plan for tonight?"
Esther frowned. "Tonight?"
Dija exchanged a look with Zianab. "Don't tell me you forgot."
"Should I know what's happening?"
"The third reunion of our senior class," Dija said, as if it were obvious.
"No one told me."
"Probably because you've ignored every invite, muted the group chat, and ghosted every reunion since the first one," Dija said, rolling her eyes. She'd tried to drag Esther to every gathering over the years, with no luck.
"So they blocked me?" Esther asked, genuinely curious.
"If you were them, wouldn't you block yourself?" Dija shot back. "You, my friend, need help, lots of it."
Zianab jumped in, intrigued. "Wait, so are you two actually going this time?"
"Actually… no. I'm not sure Mr. Lewis would be okay with it," Esther admitted.
"There! That's what I'm talking about," Dija said, throwing up her hands. "You'll use any excuse not to go."
By evening, Esther stood in front of her wardrobe, undecided. Her fingers skimmed over fabrics, pausing on a navy-blue dress that struck the perfect balance between effortless and elegant. She held it up against herself, nodding faintly.
As she dressed, she dialed Daniel's number again.
Once. No answer.
Twice. Still nothing.
She frowned and tried again. Still straight to voicemail. With a sigh, she hit record and left a message.
"Mr Lewis , I just wanted to let you know I'm heading out to the reunion. Dija and Zianab roped me into it last minute. It's at one of those private restaurants downtown, Lor, I think. I'll be back before midnight, promise. Love you."
She slipped her phone into her bag, checked herself once in the mirror, then headed out.
Within an hour she was there. The restaurant had that soft glow of understated luxury. Tucked away from the main dining area was a private room, already buzzing with old voices and half-forgotten laughter. Former classmates clustered in small groups, swapping life updates, teasing old crushes, and snapping photos.
When Esther walked in, the chatter quieted for half a beat.
"Whoa… Esther?" someone exclaimed.
Heads turned. Recognition bloomed in faces that had aged, some gracefully, some… not so much. But all of them wore surprise.
"Esther Cole herself," a classmate laughed, raising a mock toast.
"That would be Esther Lewis now , thank you" Dija corrected with a playful smile.
"Wait you're married?" another asked, brief shaking her head.
"Where have you been living, under a rock?" Dija asked, laughing
"You actually showed up?" another said cutting in and come forward for a hug.
Esther smiled warmly, accepting greetings. "I know, it's shocking. I figured the third time was charm."
Dija flanked Esther almost instantly, nudging her with pride.
Then came the inevitable voice from the group.
"Just out of curiosity, Binta, you did make it to that Harvard University you were so desperate about, right?" a woman asked, her tone dipped in mockery.
Binta forced a polite smile, swallowing the sting. "Very funny. I may not have gotten into Harvard, but I'm proud to say I'm now in my second year at F.B.C, studying law."
"Nice," the woman replied with a faux sweetness. "But shouldn't you be in third year by now? Don't tell me you took a gap year… or repeated?"
Esther sighed quietly. And this was exactly why she skip those reunions. It was never just about reconnecting, it was a stage for subtle insults, inflated success stories, and the relentless need to one-up each other. No warmth, just ego.
"And you, Esther?" the same woman turned her sights on a new target. "How's that psychologist dream going?"
But Esther didn't need to say a word, Dija was already on the offense.
"To answer your very inquisitive question, she's in her final year. And yes, she already has a job. The Central Hospital offered her a position, they're practically begging for her expertise," Dija said with a triumphant smile, adding a little extra shine to the truth. Final year was technically next year, but promotions were in place. Close enough.
The woman opened her mouth again, but someone else cut in.
"And you?" another classmate asked, eyes narrowing toward the woman who had just been stirring trouble. "I heard you dropped out in your first year of college. That true?"
Suddenly, the woman's lips clamped shut. She stared at her half-eaten plate as if it might offer an escape. She couldn't admit the truth, that she'd been rusticated for exam malpractice. That revelation would shatter her carefully curated image.
But just as the silence grew uncomfortable and eyes began to settle on her..
The door opened.
In walked Steven.
He stepped in casually, wearing a tailored blazer and a calm, knowing smirk—like he belonged there.
But he didn't.
He hadn't been in their class.
"What the hell…?" Dija muttered under her breath.
"How's he here?" Esther whispered, her bafflement tightening her grip around her glass. Dija only shrugged, equally lost.
One of the guys near the entrance, Sewa, clapped Steven on the shoulder. "Yo! Glad you made it, man!"
Esther blinked, still trying to process. Steven's eyes swept the room, then landed on her. His gaze held, and the curve of his lips deepened, like he knew exactly what kind of chaos he was stirring.
"Steven," a familiar, too-sweet voice cooed. It was the same woman who'd been mocking Binta earlier, her tone now dipped in syrup. "So glad you joined us. When did you get back from abroad?"
Steven didn't spare her a glance. His attention remained fixed on Esther.
Across the room, Esther took a long sip from her drink, willing the flush in her cheeks to stay hidden.
And then James, ever the class clown, leaned forward with a grin that practically screamed trouble.
"Esther," he called out, voice just loud enough to draw attention. "Remember back in school? You swore you were gonna become a psychologist just to figure out that mystery of a guy, Steven?"
A round of laughter followed.
"Actually," Sewa added, always eager to stir the pot, "she said she picked the course because Steven would only date a psychologist."
Esther chuckled lightly, masking the tightness in her jaw. "People said a lot of things back then."
"But you said it," another chimed in with a grin. "You practically vowed to make Steven yours."
The table erupted with laughter again.
Esther gave a measured smile, brushing the moment aside. "It really wasn't that deep."
"Oh, come on," Sewa pressed, unwilling to let it die. "You told Mrs. Kamara at career day that you were inspired to become a psychologist, and it was all for Steven!"
The room buzzed with amusement. Esther smiled again, tightly this time. But her eyes flicked briefly toward Steven.
He hadn't said a word, but the faint smirk on his lips said he remembered every bit of it too.
"Guys," Dija cut in, her tone light but edged with firmness. "Esther's married. To a great man. Maybe we should let the past stay in the past?"
"She is?" a classmate asked, brows shooting up in surprise.
"Yeah," Dija said with a proud smile. "Married. To one of the most successful tech entrepreneurs in the country, Daniel Lewis."
The room went still for a second, then erupted in hushed murmurs and stunned glances.
"No way. You married Daniel Lewis? The Daniel Lewis?" Binta asked, her mouth practically falling open.
"You mean the Daniel Lewis who built Neurospeech. The wealthiest man in the country?" another added, their voice laced with awe and a touch of envy.
Esther gave a modest nod, her smile polite. "Yes, that one."
Dija leaned back in her chair, basking in the moment. "And for the record, he's a way better choice than any man in this room," she added pointedly, glancing at Steven.
"Much better," someone else agreed from across the table, laughter bubbling behind the words.
Steven's hand tightened almost imperceptibly around his glass. But his smile didn't slip, it stayed exactly where it needed to be, polished and unreadable. Still, his eyes hadn't left Esther once.
And then, again, the voice of the woman who clearly didn't know when to quit.
"Still… you can't pretend Steven didn't have some influence. You basically followed him into psychology," she said, her words soaked in smugness.
The air shifted. Subtle tension crept over the table.
Esther's hand paused on the stem of her glass. She smiled, tight, composed, and perfectly measured.
"I chose psychology because I wanted to help people," she said calmly. "Not because of anyone."
A small silence followed, one that pressed just long enough for her words to land.
Then Dija raised her glass. "To helping people, and shutting down bad memory lanes."
Just outside the room, the glass hallway bustled quietly. Daniel coincidentally walked alongside two foreign investors, heading to the reserved section of the restaurant. He was halfway through a translation for one of them when familiar words caught his attention.
"…Esther's married. To one of the most successful tech entrepreneurs in the country. Daniel Lewis"
He slowed slightly. One of the investors glanced at him, confused by the sudden pause.
"Just a second," Daniel said smoothly.
His gaze shifted toward the open door beside them, and just wide enough for a view inside. And there she was. Esther. Sitting with old friends. Laughing. Relaxed. And seated next to her Steven.
The man from her office. The one she'd once confessed to in high school.
He didn't step in. Just listened. And when the comment came:
"You literally followed his lead into psychology…"
Something in him wavered.
Esther's laughter didn't reach him this time. Her voice followed:
"I chose psychology because I wanted to help people. Not because of anyone."
But the words had already landed. Heavy.
Daniel turned his face slightly, jaw clenched. He gave the investors a tight smile and continued walking, heart heavier than it had been moments ago.