It was five in the evening, and Esther had just gotten off work.
Her mind lingered on the fight she'd had with Daniel. He hadn't called. He hadn't tried to fix things. It was as if she were the one in the wrong, but she wasn't. All she wanted was a little space. Space in the house, space in his heart… and trust.
She sighed, trying to flush out the heaviness clinging to her thoughts.
The flickering overhead lights cast long shadows across the nearly empty underground car park. The soft echo of Esther's heels followed her as she made her way to her car, the silence of the evening settling like a heavy mist.
Her phone buzzed inside her handbag. She ignored it, too drained to care. The case Steven had handed her today still weighed heavily on her mind, more than she wanted to admit.
She approached her car, digging through her bag for her keys.
Behind her, soft footsteps.
Too soft.
Esther turned, too late.
A hand clamped over her mouth, another arm snaked around her waist, yanking her backward with brutal precision.
She tried to scream, to twist away, but a sharp, pungent scent flooded her senses. A handkerchief pressed tight against her nose.
Chloroform.
Panic surged. Her limbs flailed, kicking out in blind desperation. She managed to land a blow, but the grip only tightened.
The world spun, her strength giving out fast.
The last thing she saw before her vision went black was the ceiling light above, flickering once, then steady.
And the man's face.
John.
Esther's head throbbed as she stirred awake, the dull ache spreading through her temples like a slow pulse. Her mouth was dry, the air around her thick and stale. She blinked against the dark lighting, trying to orient herself.
She was lying on a bare mattress in the corner of a small, windowless room. The walls were cement, stained in patches and cracked at the edges. Her wrists were bound tightly in front of her with a rough rope, ankles loosely tied as well.
Panic simmered beneath her skin as she sat up, eyes scanning every corner.
Where am I?
The door creaked.
And in walked John.
Esther froze.
Her breath caught as her eyes locked on his face, the same man who had once been wanted for arrest and vanished without a trace.
"You…" she whispered, disbelief and horror in her voice. "How are you here? Didn't you run?"
She stared, stunned that he'd sneaked back into the country. His face was still plastered across news reports as a wanted man.
John smirked, lighting a cigarette as he leaned against the doorframe and exhaled smoke. "Surprise. I'm back. Gonna take more than headlines to catch me."
Esther straightened, fists clenched despite the rope. "What do you want from me? Why am I here?"
He stepped inside, crouching near her, voice low and venomous.
"Let's just say… I've got a little job. A personal one. Detailed instructions, courtesy of someone close to you." He dragged out the words slowly. "Just three hours, and you'll be free."
Esther's face paled. Her throat tightened. "Please, let me go. I've never even crossed paths with you."
He laughed. "True. But I've crossed paths with your husband. And he's done some nasty shit. Someone's got to pay."
His eyes scanned her body, and something dark flickered in his gaze. He hadn't been sure about the job or the risk, but seeing her now, helpless, terrified, convinced him it was worth it. Even if Daniel came after him, it would be worth it.
"Let me go," she pleaded. "I'll pay you, double whatever they offered."
But John's smile was already the answer.
"This isn't about money. This is about showing your husband he's not untouchable." He leaned closer, trailing a finger along her jaw.
She yanked her head away, and he smiled wider, enjoying her defiance.
"This is going to be fun," he said, standing. His eyes swept the room. "Be obedient. Stay quiet. I'll be back."
He stepped out and locked the door behind him.
The second the door clicked shut, Esther listened, counting his fading steps.
Then she moved.
She pulled hard at the rope around her wrists, fast, frantic, the rough fibers scraping her skin raw. Pain bloomed, but she didn't stop. After a few brutal tugs, one loop slipped free.
Her trembling fingers worked fast to untie the rest.
She scrambled across the room, quietly checking the door. Locked. No windows. She checked again, tugged, pushed, it wouldn't budge.
Then she spotted her handbag tossed carelessly on the floor in the corner. She lunged for it, digging through until she found her phone.
Dead.
Her heart dropped.
Then she remembered the power bank she kept for emergencies. Still in the bag. Fumbling, she connected it, watched as the screen flickered on. She quickly dialed Daniel.
It rang.
And rang.
No answer.
"Please," she whispered, trying again. Voicemail.
She tried once more. Her thumb trembling on the call button.
A sound, footsteps.
He was coming back.
Her time was almost up.
Meanwhile, at LewisTech, Daniel was caught in a web of dread with the board members. The recent wave of setbacks, loss of key deals, major clients pulling out, had thrown the company into turmoil. What began subtly had now escalated into a crisis. In just a few short weeks, the Jallohs seemed to be taking over every opportunity that once belonged to them. Their clients, their contracts, their deals, gone, and now in the hands of their competitors.
It felt targeted. Coordinated. As though someone had access to LewisTech's outlines, marketing strategies, even internal contract proposals, and was feeding them to the Jallohs.
Inside the boardroom, Daniel worked to suppress the rising tension. He addressed the board firmly, trying to reassure them.
"I understand what this looks like," he said, voice even. "But I give you my word, I'll get to the bottom of this. And we'll take back what's ours."
Elsewhere in the company, Thomas had sent a quiet request to meet with Dija.
The lounge was hushed, the gentle hum of the air conditioning filling the silence. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed a breathtaking view of the city skyline, but Thomas barely registered it. He paced once. Twice. Then stopped as the door opened.
Dija stepped in, her heels clicking softly against the polished tiles. She halted when she saw his face.
"Are you alright? What's the emergency?" she asked, concern lacing her voice as she moved toward him.
"No emergency," he replied, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "I just… needed to say something. Without your friends eavesdropping."
Her brow furrowed. "What are you talking about?"
He took a deep breath, straightened, and met her gaze.
"I've decided to do it."
She blinked. "Do what?"
"I'll be your mother's live-in son-in-law," he said, his voice steady. "I'll marry you. And I'll move into her house."
Dija's eyes widened in disbelief. "Wait, you're serious?"
"I wish I weren't," he admitted with a faint smile. "But I am. Dija, you matter to me. I've realized, it's not about where I live, it's about who I'm with. If that's the price I have to pay to be with you, then I'll pay it. Even if it goes against everything I once believed."
His words landed with quiet gravity. He was still shaken by the decision, it went against everything he thought he stood for. But for her? He'd swallow his pride.
Her expression softened as the words sank in. "Wow," she whispered. "Took you long enough." A cautious smile tugged at her lips.
Thomas smiled back. "You're impossible."
"And you're insane," she replied, reaching for his hand. Her voice was gentle. "You really don't mind?"
"I'll mind," he said honestly. "But I'll adapt. If this is what forever with you looks like… then yeah. I'm in."
She gazed at him for a moment, eyes glistening, then leaned in and kissed him, slow, soft, certain.
"I'm going to hold you to that," she whispered against his lips.
"You better," he murmured, pressing his forehead to hers.
Unbeknownst to them, just outside the lounge, behind the frosted glass, a junior staff member peeked in, eyes wide.
Office gossip had just found its next headline.
Back at the unknown location where Esther was being held, she instinctively returned to the mattress the moment she heard the creak of the door. She sat, hands carefully tucked behind her back, trying to mask the earlier struggle she had made to escape.
The door swung open.
John walked in, this time with two other men. He shut the door behind him, the sound sharp and final. With a nod, one of the men walked over to a thin, tall table and set up a camera at an angle that captured Esther fully in the frame.
"What are you going to do?" Esther asked, her voice trembling as she pulled her feet closer to her body.
John's voice came, thick with mockery and menace. "What do you think, sweetheart?" he sneered. "We're going to have fun. Not just me, me and my brothers."
He lied.
His original plan had been to violate her alone, but Sarah had called just an hour ago. Her instructions had changed, send in two men to make sure the job was done properly.
John hated it. His fist had tightened when she called. But he didn't have the strength to resist her. He never did. Sarah's hatred for Esther, her own sister, was beyond reason. Every intention was cold, calculated, and merciless.
"Don't worry, we'll be gentle," one of the men said, stripping off his grey T-shirt with a sickening smile. "Hopefully," he added, bursting into laughter.
Without another word, Esther snapped.
She sprang to her feet and delivered a hard kick into the stomach of the approaching man. He doubled over in pain. In that split second, she grabbed her phone and made for the door.
She tried it once, twice.
Locked.
Slowly, she turned back to find the three of them smiling at her, amused by her defiance.
"It's locked, sweetheart," John said, stepping toward her like a predator. "Be obedient. Let us do our job. Don't make this harder than it has to be."
Esther backed away. She couldn't reach Daniel. Her calls had gone unanswered. But her fight hadn't left her yet.
She spotted the empty bottle near the corner of the door. She grabbed it, smashed it hard against the wall, and raised one jagged half toward them with both trembling hands.
"Don't come closer," she warned, her voice cracking. "I swear I'll hurt you."
Her hands shook, her grip unsure, but her eyes burned with something fierce.
"First, try steadying that grip," John mocked, closing the distance.
With a swift movement, he snatched the broken glass from her and seized her wrists. One hand gripped her hair and he threw her roughly onto the bed.
He climbed on top of her, his weight pinning her down. His hands began tearing at her top while she fought, kicking and clawing, screaming with all that was left in her.
The other men joined, grabbing her limbs, holding her down with sick pleasure as they watched John fumble with her dress.
Her screams filled the room, but her voice began to falter, hoarse, cracking, fading.
Her legs thrashed. Her fists pounded. But she was growing weaker. Her vision blurred with tears, her body exhausted.
This was it.
No one was coming. Not even Daniel, the man who promised to protect her.
And then…
The door burst open with a crash.
The room fell into stunned silence.
Esther turned her head slowly toward the light flooding through the broken doorway.
"Daniel?" she whispered, hope flickering.
But as the figure stepped forward, the outline became clearer.
It wasn't Daniel.
It was Steven.
He moved fast.
With one brutal punch, Steven knocked John off her. John crashed into the far wall, slumping to the floor.
The other two men barely had time to react before the police stormed in, weapons drawn, voices raised.
They were pinned down and cuffed within seconds.
Steven rushed to Esther, pulling his coat off and wrapping it around her. Gently, he lifted her into his arms.
She clung to him, silent, eyes wide with shock.
When Esther woke up, she was in a hospital.
The lights were soft. The blanket warm. She was safe.
The nightmare had ended, at least for now.
She blinked, her throat dry, vision blurry. Her head ached faintly, and her body felt heavy, as though she'd been underwater and had only just surfaced. The steady beeping of a heart monitor ticked in the background, a quiet metronome to her dazed thoughts.
Alive.
She moved her fingers. Then her arms. She was sore, but she could move.
Slowly, her eyes roamed the room. White ceiling. Beige walls. A curtain swaying slightly beside the open window. The hum of distant footsteps outside the door.
And then..
She saw him.
Sitting in the far corner, half in shadow, still as stone. Daniel.
Her breath caught.
He was leaning forward slightly, elbows on his knees, his eyes locked on her. He hadn't moved. Not even when she stirred.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
His face was unreadable, tired, drawn, a deep crease between his brows. His suit jacket was wrinkled, tie loosened like he'd been wearing it for hours… maybe all night. There was stubble on his chin, his eyes rimmed red, not from tears, perhaps, but from the weight of something heavier.
Guilt.