After her heart-to-heart with Professor Turay, Esther returned to the Lewis mansion with one goal in mind, clear the air with Mr. Lewis. Hopefully, find a truce.
She climbed the stairs slowly, mentally preparing herself for the battle of words ahead. As she reached the landing, her eyes caught Mather standing at the far end of the corridor. Mather offered a faint, apologetic smile.
Esther returned it with a small nod, silently letting the woman know she held no grudge. Mather had only done her job, perhaps too well.
Esther inhaled deeply, squaring her shoulders as she faced the hallway leading to the cold king's chamber, as she had come to call it. Her steps began counting themselves in her head. One. Two. Three…
"Esther."
The soft voice snapped her focus. She turned to see Lady Bell approaching with her usual elegance and warmth, her woolen shawl wrapped neatly across her arms.
"I'm glad you're back," Lady Bell greeted, her smile light yet knowing. "Walk with me?"
Without protest, Esther followed her out into the garden patio, where the evening breeze kissed her skin. The sky was a canvas of soft blues and orange, fading into twilight.
"I believe you had a talk with your professor, didn't you?" Lady Bell asked gently, her words chosen with care.
"Yes," Esther answered, calm and focused. "I'm going to speak with Mr. Lewis. It's time to put things in order, for Betty's sake."
Lady Bell nodded slowly, her eyes distant. "That would be wonderful. You care for her… it shows. But I also hope you'll try to understand my brother."
Esther's brows drew together, skepticism written all over her face. Understand Daniel Lewis? The man was practically allergic to compassion.
Lady Bell smiled as if she could read the doubt. "I know it's hard to imagine, but Daniel wasn't always like this. He used to be cheerful, light-hearted. A man who laughed more than he spoke."
Esther blinked. The image clashed too violently with the version of Daniel she'd come to know.
"All of that changed when Marian died," Lady Bell continued, her voice tightening around the name. "Her death… broke him. There was an accident. He wasn't there. And he's never forgiven himself for it."
Esther looked away, letting the truth settle.
"For five years, he's built these walls, around his daughter, around himself, thinking that control could replace protection. But it hasn't helped, has it?"
Esther's heart softened. It explained a lot. His obsession with routine, the choking schedules, the sharp tongue. He wasn't trying to be cruel, he was trying to stop time, rewind fate.
Still, she reminded herself, she wasn't here to fix Daniel Lewis. She was here to help Betty.
"I hope you two find common ground," Lady Bell said. "Betty needs both of you."
"I'll try my best, ma'am," Esther replied softly. Then, with resolve, she turned and walked back inside, this time heading straight for the lion's den.
Daniel Lewis stood at the window of his study, his back rigid, his hands buried in the pockets of his slacks. He had dismissed Mather minutes ago after she came to report on Betty being tucked in bed.
His fingers carried the weight of a short glass of plain liquor. His breath came out hard and exhausted as he drowned his throat with the harsh liquor that left a bitter taste on his tongue. His eyes closed for seconds, his mind trying, failing, to be clear and empty of the weights in his heart.
He was furious.
Not just with Esther.
But with himself.
How had he not seen it?
How had he allowed things to spiral this far without noticing the cracks in Betty's mental state… or the suffocation in the very routines he'd sworn were healing her?
A soft knock pulled him from his thoughts.
"Come in," he said stiffly.
Esther stepped inEsther stepped in, her hands clasped nervously in front of her. The door clicked shut behind her, and silence stretched like ice between them.
Daniel didn't turn. "You've already said your piece once. Are you here to double down?"
"I'm here to explain," she said simply.
He faced her, eyes towering , jaw tight. "You violated clear terms. You altered a medical schedule without authority. Do you have any idea how reckless that is?"
"I do," she said, standing her ground. "And I'd do it again if it meant protecting Betty's well-being."
Daniel's brow furrowed. "You think routines hurt her?"
"I think your routines are a cage," Esther said, her voice steady but passionate. "You've built a system designed to treat symptoms, not a child. Betty's not just a project to be fixed, she's a human being. A grieving, hurting little girl who doesn't need more drills. She needs space to breathe."
"You think I don't know my own daughter?" he snapped.
"I think you know the pain you're carrying," she replied, "and you're projecting it onto her."
Daniel froze.
"I get it. You lost your wife. You're scared to lose Betty too. But if you keep going like this, you're going to lose her anyway. Not to death, but to silence. To fear. To emotional shutdown."
Her words hit like quiet thunder.
Daniel ran a hand down his face. "You think you know so much."
"I know enough to see that you love her," Esther said gently. "That's why I'm not giving up. Let me help her. The right way."
Silence stretched between them. Then finally..
"Do what you want," he muttered. "You've already started anyway."
Esther blinked. "I'm not trying to defy you, Mr. Lewis. I just want us to work together for Betty's sake."
His eyes met hers. For a brief second, there was something raw in them. "Then don't make me regret it."
She nodded. "I won't."
And just like that, the wall cracked, just a little.
As she stepped out, the hallway was dim and quiet, the kind of stillness that only came late into the night. Esther stood outside Betty's bedroom door, her fingers hovering for a second before she gently knocked twice.
No response.
But she knew.
Betty was awake.
She always was when her thoughts grew too loud for dreams.
Esther slowly opened the door and slipped inside. The room was cast in soft blue light from the moon that spilled through the curtains. Betty lay in bed, turned to the wall, her little shoulders pulled tight beneath the covers.
"I know you're not sleeping," Esther said softly, closing the door behind her.
No movement, but she didn't expect one.
She walked closer and sat gently at the edge of the bed, just like she had during their first week together.
"I had a talk with your dad," Esther began, her voice calm and warm like the hush of a lullaby. "A real one this time."
At that, Betty stirred, just a flicker of movement, but enough. Esther smiled faintly.
"He knows now. About how you feel trapped by the routines… how the music and rules and all the tight schedules make you feel worse, not better."
Still silent, but Betty's back tensed.
"He's agreed to let me change things a little," Esther continued, her tone light, hopeful. "We're going to do things your way. More drawing, more outings. Less piano. Less watching the clock. And no more forced smiles."
The little girl turned slowly onto her back, her eyes wide and glistening in the dark. Her lips didn't move, she still didn't speak, but her gaze said everything.
Relief. Surprise. And something dangerously close to hope.
Esther leaned forward and gently tucked a strand of hair behind Betty's ear.
"You're safe," she whispered. "And I'm not going anywhere."
Without warning, Betty reached out, just a little and brushed her fingers lightly against Esther's hand. It was the softest touch, fleeting like the flutter of a bird's wing, but it hit Esther like a thunderclap.
Esther smiled, blinking back the emotion in her chest.
"We start tomorrow," she said. "Sleep now. The world can wait."
Betty's hand slowly retreated under the blanket, but her eyes never left Esther's face. And just before Esther stood to leave, she saw it, the tiniest, blink-and-you-miss-it nod.
Progress.
She quietly slipped out of the room, closing the door behind her with a heart full of something she hadn't felt in a while:
Hope.