The grand ballroom of the venue gleamed beneath cascading chandeliers, each crystal drop catching the soft golden lights like stars strung in a net. Waiters in crisp black and white weaved seamlessly through the crowd with trays of champagne and hors d'oeuvres. The room shimmered with luxury, from the ivory silk drapes framing the windows to the gold-trimmed floral centerpieces that graced each table.
A gentle chime rang out, drawing everyone's attention to the elevated stage at the far end of the hall. The soft hum of chatter dulled as a distinguished man in a tailored navy suit took the microphone. He was the evening's host, a close aide to the prime minister, and the one charged with opening the floor.
"Ladies and gentlemen, good evening," he began, his voice amplified just enough to carry through the ballroom. "Tonight, we gather to honor more than just a birthday. We're here to celebrate legacy, strength, and grace. The woman at the center of it all has been more than just the wife of our Prime Minister. She has been a symbol of quiet power, resilience, and compassion for the past twenty-five years."
Polite applause echoed through the room as heads turned toward the couple seated at the center table.
"Now, I won't take too much of your time," the host continued with a smile. "Let me welcome the man himself, His Excellency, Prime Minister Kallon."
Another round of applause rose as the Prime Minister stood, regal and composed in a deep burgundy tuxedo. He took the microphone, his expression tender as he looked toward his wife seated beside him.
"My friends, colleagues, brothers and sisters of this great nation," he began warmly, "thank you for being here tonight to celebrate this incredible woman who has walked beside me through storms and sunshine."
A few heads nodded in agreement. Others smiled, touched by the sincerity in his tone.
"We have built dreams together, raised a family, served a country… but in all that, what I cherish most is her laughter in our home, her strength when I falter, and her prayers that never cease."
He turned toward her fully now, his voice softening.
"Aminata, for twenty-five years, you have been my anchor. You have held our family together with unwavering love. You've given me more than I ever thought I deserved. And though the country calls me Prime Minister…" he paused, smiling, "you will always be the one true ruler of my heart."
The room melted in a warm wave of collective "aww"s and emotional applause. A few guests even wiped discreet tears.
"To many more years together," he said, raising his glass. "And happiest of birthdays to you, my queen."
Cameras flashed. Champagne glasses lifted. The moment was perfect.
Then, with a slight wave from the Prime Minister, the string quartet in the corner transitioned seamlessly into a romantic highlife tune. The lights dimmed just slightly, enough to change the mood from regal formality to soft celebration.
The dance floor, previously untouched, now sparkled under gentle spotlights. The Prime Minister extended his hand, and his wife rose gracefully to join him.
As they shared the first dance, guests began to filter onto the floor. Laughter picked up, conversations resumed, and warmth filled the air.
Dija grabbed Esther's hand, eyes wide with excitement. "Now this is the fun part. Let's go dance!"
Esther chuckled. "Go ahead. I'll watch for now."
"I'm not taking no for an answer," Dija grinned, grabbing her friend's hand and pulling her to the dance floor. The slow jazz music wrapped around them like velvet, and their hands found each other in a casual rhythm. Their movements swayed with ease, two young women glowing under the lights, lost in the moment.
"Now this is a party," Dija said, glancing around. "I wonder where my parents are, I haven't seen them since we parted ways."
"You should probably go look for them," Esther suggested, but even as she said it, her eyes drifted… and landed directly on Daniel.
He stood across the room, speaking to a pair of diplomats. Yet somehow, in that crowded room, his eyes found hers like a homing beacon. The second their gazes locked, everything else fell away. Her breath caught. Her pulse quickened.
"Nope," Dija said, following her gaze and smirking knowingly. "They're grown. They'll survive. You, on the other hand…"
Just then, a familiar voice broke through the music.
"May I steal a dance?"
Esther turned, caught slightly off guard by how close Daniel now stood. His expression was unreadable, but the soft smile playing on his lips warmed something in her chest.
"Dija," he said with a polite nod, "may I have my date back?"
"Absolutely," Dija grinned and practically handed Esther over like a prized jewel. As she slipped away, she mouthed, Break a leg.
Esther raised a brow. "Your date?"
"Well, for tonight, you're Miss Cole," Daniel replied smoothly. His hand slid gently to her waist while the other captured her hand. "Now, dance with me."
Her heart leapt as he pulled her closer. Too close. His palm rested just above the small of her back, firm but respectful, and her hand trembled slightly in his. His cologne, earthy, crisp, and expensive, filled her lungs, dizzying her senses.
"So…" she murmured, trying to shift the air from charged to casual, "your friend… I don't see him anymore."
Daniel's jaw tightened just slightly. "Why, did he leave an impression?"
Esther tilted her head. "If by impression you mean slime and overconfidence, then yes. It's not every day someone makes you want to scrub your hand after a greeting."
Daniel exhaled, something between a laugh and a sigh, and the tension in his shoulders eased.
"Good," he said simply. "He has a reputation for being… persistent. I didn't like the way he looked at you."
A flutter stirred in her stomach. She knew what Dija would call that: jealousy.
"Protective much?" she teased gently.
His eyes found hers again, dark, serious, and unblinking. "Maybe," he admitted. "But I think you deserve better than men who make you uncomfortable."
Esther's breath hitched again. The distance between them had subtly disappeared. His hand rested just a little firmer on her back, his thumb grazing the curve of her waist with unconscious care.
"And what do you think I deserve, Mr. Lewis?" she asked, her voice low, suddenly unsure whether she was playing or probing.
He didn't smile this time. His gaze dropped to her lips before returning to her eyes, and the intensity in them made her knees weak.
"Someone who sees you… really sees you. Someone who listens. Protects. Laughs with you. Challenges you. And never, ever, makes you feel less than the incredible woman you are."
Esther's chest rose and fell with shallow breath. The music played on, slow and haunting, as they danced in sync with something far deeper than rhythm.
Her eyes dipped to his lips, just for a moment.
His grip on her hand tightened just slightly.
Their faces hovered close… the space between them practically humming…
Then..
"Ladies and gentlemen!" the MC's voice rang out through the speakers, breaking the spell like a sudden breeze. "We're now moving into the next segment of our celebration!"
Daniel blinked, pulling back just a fraction, as if coming out of a dream.
Esther stepped away, cheeks flushed, lips parted slightly in shock at how close they'd come. Her heart was racing.
She opened her mouth, searching for words, but he beat her to it.
"Come," he said quietly, offering his arm again, his expression unreadable. "Let's get a drink."
She hesitated… then nodded, slipping her arm through his.
But as they stepped off the dance floor together, something unspoken passed between them. Something fragile and electric. Something that couldn't be undone.
Right at that moment, a familiar voice called out.
"Mr. Lewis!"
Daniel turned, spotting the Prime Minister a few steps away, smiling as he opened his arms in welcome. Without thinking, Daniel advanced, his hand still gently holding Esther's.
"Your Excellency," he greeted, offering a nod. "Thank you for the invitation."
"Oh, please, Daniel, let's drop the formalities. We're far beyond that," the Prime Minister said with a warm chuckle, then glanced past him to Esther. "And I see you brought a date. She's lovely. I'm glad to see you… finally moving on."
Daniel's smile faltered.
His hand slipped from Esther's like a broken string.
The moment he let go, something sharp and invisible pierced her chest. Esther blinked quickly, fighting the sting. She didn't want to show it. Didn't want it to matter. But it did.
What did she expect?
He had loved his wife. Truly, deeply. And she… she was just a temporary fixture in his life. A governess. A contract.
"She's only accompanying me," Daniel corrected smoothly, his tone polite but clipped. "Nothing more."
Each word struck like a cold blade.
Esther didn't need to be told. The lines had always been clear. Whatever warmth or closeness they shared tonight , whatever hope had begun to bloom in her chest, was hers alone. A delusion, foolish and naive.
She drew a shaky breath.
Get it together, Esther.
This was not the time to unravel.
"Are you alright, dear?" the Prime Minister's wife asked gently, touching her arm.
"Yes, I'm fine," Esther said, her voice tight but steady. "And happy birthday, ma'am. Wishing you many more years of joy."
"Thank you, my dear," the woman replied with a kind smile.
"Please excuse me," Esther said, already backing away. "I just need a little air."
She walked off quickly, each step harder than the last, her heart pounding beneath the weight of clarity. She needed to breathe. She needed to stop hoping.
Because Daniel Lewis wasn't hers.
And never would be.
Esther stepped into the night air, the cold brushing her bare arms like a silent reminder, sharp, biting, real.
"You're just his employee, get it straight," she muttered to herself. Over and over. Like repetition could undo feelings.
But the ache in her chest said otherwise. The chill in the wind had nothing on the frost Daniel left in her veins with those words,'She's only accompanying me… nothing more.'
She crossed her arms tightly and looked up.
The sky was wide and empty, a gaping stretch of midnight. Not even the stars dared to show tonight. Maybe they, too, had let go, just like Daniel had.
Or maybe the sky wasn't owed an explanation from the stars… just as she wasn't owed Daniel's heart.
"Esther," she whispered her name like it tasted bitter. "Get your head straight."
She'd misunderstood everything.
She'd taken his kindness for affection. His generosity for something deeper. His protective instincts for intimacy.
But the truth stung—he wasn't hers, not now, not ever.
Still… when had she fallen? And how deeply?
"Christ," she breathed. "Get your head straight."
"You know," a voice said from behind, smooth and too familiar, "talking to yourself is usually not a good sign."
She turned, instantly regretting the intrusion.
Of all people.
Sankoh.
He strolled up beside her, unbothered as ever. His presence was too loud for the quiet ache she nursed.
"Alone, I see," he said casually. "Where's your date? Don't tell me he dumped you."
She didn't answer.
She didn't need to.
Silence hung heavy, and even Sankoh caught on.
"…Do you want to talk about it?"
Esther turned sharply, her tone tight. "Do you have an off button? Because I'd love to press it."
He smirked, completely unfazed. "I don't. But if I did, I'd probably let you be the one to press it."
She rolled her eyes. "Here we go with the cheesy lines."
"Have I ever told you that you're beautiful when you're mad?"
"Has anyone ever told you that you're incredibly annoying?"
"You'd be surprised. They have. Repeatedly."
"Well, I'm just surprised you've never taken it seriously."
He laughed. "I've got a fix for that. One drink. Just one. Trust me, everything feels lighter with something in your glass."
She narrowed her eyes. "Alcohol doesn't solve problems. It just delays them. Come morning, you're back to square one."
"True," he said with a shrug. "But it gives temporary relief. And right now, I think that's what you need more than anything."
Esther hesitated.
She should've told him off. She should've walked away.
But her heart still ached from Daniel's words. Her mind was clouded, her chest tight. And for once… maybe Sankoh was right.
"Fine," she said at last. "One drink."
His grin widened. "Atta girl."
He held out an arm with exaggerated chivalry. She rolled her eyes again but took it anyway.
They walked back into the event space and over to the bar station.
"What'll it be?" the bartender asked.
Esther paused, then said flatly, "Something strong enough to burn and stupid enough to regret."
The bartender raised a brow and poured two shots of whiskey.
Sankoh clinked his glass to hers. "To forgetting… at least for tonight."
Esther downed the drink without flinching.
But no amount of alcohol could drown the image of Daniel's hand slipping from hers… or the ache that lingered in its wake.
Back inside, the music had shifted to a sultry blend of live saxophone and piano, the dance floor now filled with swaying bodies and the low hum of elegant laughter. Daniel stood beside the Prime Minister, his mind split between the conversation and the growing awareness of Esther's absence.
"So," the Prime Minister said, swirling the drink in his glass, "how's progress on the NeuroSpeech project? I've been meaning to ask. You know my interest in it isn't just political, my son's future depends on it."
Daniel gave a small nod, aware of his deep interest. Like him, the minister's first son was born without the ability to speech.
"There's been significant progress. The latest prototype has passed internal speech mapping tests, and we're fine-tuning emotional response parameters. My team believes we'll have a usable demo soon."
The Prime Minister's eyes softened slightly. "Good. I trust you'll make it happen. I've never been one to hope blindly, Daniel, but I believe in your work."
Daniel managed a faint smile. "We won't let you down."
The conversation shifted briefly to other matters, but Daniel's eyes kept scanning the crowd. Esther was nowhere in sight.
"Excuse me, Your Excellency," Daniel finally said. "I need to check on something."
"Of course," the Prime Minister waved him off. "Go on."
Daniel turned and immediately spotted Dija near a table of desserts, deep in conversation with her mother. He approached.
"Dija," he said, cutting gently into the conversation. "Have you seen Esther?"
She looked up, surprised. "No, I thought she was still with you. We danced earlier but I've been with my parents ever since."
Daniel didn't respond immediately. He just gave a curt nod and walked off, a strange weight pressing on his chest.
He checked the hallway. The terrace. The women's lounge entrance. Nothing.
Then he heard a soft, unmistakable laugh—hers. It floated in the air like silk, warm and disarming.
He followed the sound, and there she was.
Under one of the garden tents near the bar, lit in gold and soft shadows, Esther sat beside Sankoh. She was giggling, leaning slightly toward him, a half-empty glass of something strong in her hand. Sankoh's body angled closer, eyes trained on her like a predator who had found an opening. Her cheeks were flushed, her smile unfocused. She didn't even realize it, but she was drunk.
And just as her hand began to lift, halfway toward Sankoh's shoulder, Daniel moved.
Fast.
He didn't think. He didn't pause.
He just marched up, eyes hard, jaw set, and grabbed her wrist, firm but not rough, and pulled her to her feet.
"Daniel?" Esther blinked, swaying slightly. "I.."
"We're leaving," he said, voice low and controlled, but stormy underneath.
Sankoh rose from his seat with a smug grin. "She's not yours, you know."
Daniel didn't respond to him. His hand remained at Esther's back, gently but firmly guiding her away.
"You've had enough fun for tonight," he said to her.
Esther's lips parted to argue, but no words came. Somewhere deep in her fogged mind, even she could feel the tension in his grip, the possessive heat in his silence. He was angry.
Not like before.
Not professionally.
But something far more personal.
And it shook her to her core.
Daniel didn't wait for further protests. He leaned down, one arm beneath Esther's knees, the other behind her back, and swept her off her feet with one fluid motion.
"Hey, what are you doing?" she mumbled, blinking up at him.
"You're not walking like this," he said coldly, not meeting her eyes.
She didn't resist. Her arms instinctively wrapped around his neck, her cheek falling softly against his chest. His cologne… it still lingered like a memory she didn't want to forget.
As he turned to leave the tented bar area, Sankoh raised his glass with a mocking smirk.
"Careful, Mr. Lewis. She's a firecracker when drunk," he said with deliberate insolence.
Daniel paused briefly, his eyes darkening. "We'll settle this later," he said, calm, dangerous.
Sankoh chuckled, not fazed in the slightest.
On his way out to the car, Esther still nestled in his arms, Daniel's path was abruptly crossed.
Alhaji Jalloh.
And Jariatu.
They were elegantly dressed, standing side by side like statues carved from tension. Their eyes bore into Daniel, Jariatu with cold disdain, and Alhaji with something far more venomous.
No words passed.
But the air between them crackled.
History.
Hatred.
A silent battlefield.
Daniel's jaw tightened, but he didn't stop. Not for them. Not tonight.
He moved past, his pace steady, gaze forward. Once at the car, he gently placed Esther in the back seat.
"Drive," he told his driver. "Straight home."
The car took off into the night.
Back at the Lewis mansion, Lady Bell stood at the top of the staircase, caught mid-step. Her robe hung loosely around her, hair slightly tousled from sleep. But her eyes were wide.
She had never seen her brother like this.
Daniel Lewis, cool, calculated, emotionally walled, was carrying a woman.
And not just any woman.
Esther.
He didn't say a word as he walked past her, his expression unreadable.
Belle's gaze followed in silence, her lips parting as if to speak, but no words came. She simply watched.
He entered Esther's guest room and gently laid her on the bed.
Her breathing was soft now, her lips slightly parted. Her dress had shifted with movement, exposing one shoulder, but Daniel quickly pulled the blanket up to her collarbone, covering her with care.
Then, just as he turned to leave, her fingers brushed his wrist.
He paused.
"Daniel…" she whispered, eyes half-lidded, voice soaked with longing and confusion.
He turned his head, just enough to look at her.
Her hand reached up, slow and uncoordinated. She curled her fingers around the back of his neck and gently pulled him down.
"Miss Cole"
Before he could stop her, their lips met.
A soft, unsteady kiss.
It didn't last long, just a breath. Just enough to shake him.
He pulled back immediately, but not harshly. Her hand dropped away. Her eyes fluttered shut again.
Daniel stood over her, breathing shallow, gaze locked on her sleeping form. His fingers grazed his lips in disbelief, something inside him rattled.
He stared a moment longer before turning away and leaving the room, closing the door behind him with quiet finality.
But the kiss lingered.
And for the first time in a long while…
Daniel Lewis couldn't sleep.