The morning sun crept through the curtains as Vicky bustled around the small kitchen, humming softly while preparing breakfast. The aroma of omungome filled the air. She glanced at the clock—time was ticking.
"Emi's lunch box..." she muttered, pausing to check her sister's school bag. Empty. She frowned. "Where's Emi's lunch box?"
Nathan strolled into the lavish kitchen, holding a pink lunch box delicately between his fingers.
"Morning, sir," the house staff greeted in unison.
"Morning," he replied curtly. "I need fried chicken and salad packed into this lunch box."
"Of course. Breakfast will be ready soon as well."
Back at Vicky's Home,
Emily trotted into the kitchen, her braids bouncing as she inhaled the savory steam wafting from the pot.
"It smells soooo good," she grinned.
Vicky turned to her. "Where is your lunch box, little madam?"
Emily's eyes widened as the realization hit. She slapped a hand over her mouth.
"Emily?? Don't tell me you lost it," Vicky said, trying not to panic as Evan handed her his shoes to tie.
"I didn't lose it," Emily mumbled sheepishly. "It's with Mr. Nate."
"What?!" Vicky snapped.
"Who's Mr. Nate?" Evan asked, raising an eyebrow.
Vicky folded her arms. "Some man she met at the market a few days ago. I saw his car yesterday—fancy one, like the kind Yahoo boys drive."
"Please don't be mad!" Emily begged. "He liked the koeksisters you made. We made a deal: he takes my lunchbox and brings me his food, and you keep making koeksisters for him."
Vicky nearly dropped Evan's shoe. "Emily! You let a stranger bring you food? A man you just met?! No, no, no."
Together, she and Evan gently but firmly backed Emily into the corner of the room.
"You don't take food from strangers," Evan said, crossing his arms.
"I've told you this a hundred times, Emi," Vicky added. "What if he kidnaps you the next time you see him?"
Emily looked up at them with narrowed eyes. "Are you two in 'parent mode' now? I didn't do anything wrong!"
Vicky shook her head. "We go into parent mode when you start acting like a street-smart little trickster. And today? I'm not making koeksisters for that man."
Evan sat down, grabbing his breakfast. "He's a stranger, Em. You barely know him. You don't even know his full name."
"But he's kind," Emily insisted. "I told him I'd introduce him to you today. He'll feel bad if I don't bring anything and he brings me food."
"Emily," Evan said gently, "this is Windhoek. Rich men don't just 'become friends' with random schoolgirls. He has a motive, whether you see it or not."
"Exactly," Vicky said, returning to the stove. "Let me finish up so we can go. I'm not comfortable with this."
"I promised I'd bring him koeksisters," Emily said with a pout, arms crossed.
"You're getting your lunch packed by me, and you'll eat it, only you, you hear me?" Vicky replied, her tone firm but not unkind.
Emily sat on a chair, fuming. "Then we have to talk to him. If he's not dangerous like you think, you both have to promise to make koeksisters for him every day. Deal?"
Her words stunned Vicky and Evan.
"What kind of spell did this man cast on my little sister?" Evan asked. "She already trusts him like he's family."
Emily locked eyes with Vicky. "Mommy promise?" she said, using the one phrase she knew could soften even stone.
Vicky hesitated.
"Please," Emily added, with a heartbreaking frown.
But before she could say a word, Evan interjected, "No promises until we meet him and see for ourselves."
Emily slumped in the chair, defeated.
Vicky knelt in front of her, brushing a stray braid from her cheek.
"I don't know why our own training is rebounding like this," she murmured. "But Emily rarely trusts people. If she does… maybe it's worth a listen."
Evan sighed. "I just want you safe, sis. You know what they say about rich people—they charm you, then use you. But alright. Let's meet him and take it from there."
Vicky cupped Emily's face.
"Mommy promise," she whispered.
Emily leapt forward, wrapping her arms around her sister with joy.