It was the first time in a long while that Betty didn't wake to the sound of morning bells or Mather's formal voice. Instead, she was greeted by the soft hum of Esther's angelic voice.
"Rise and shine, sunflower," Esther whispered, her fingers playfully tickling Betty's sides.
A burst of giggles escaped the little girl.
"I'm up! I'm up!" her machine said as she sat upright in bed, her hair tousled and her cheeks still touched with sleep.
"Mather didn't come today," she typed, raising a curious brow.
"I told you last night," Esther said with a mock-dramatic flair, "no more military schedules or tight routines. From now on, it's the Esther way, calm, easy, fun."
She tapped Betty's nose. "It's already seven a.m. No more six o'clock alarms! And if today goes well, maybe we'll even push to seven-thirty tomorrow."
Betty shook her head, amused. Her governess was a full-blown rebel. A delightful, loveable one.
"Alright, let's get moving. We've got little but plenty time to waste!" Esther declared, tossing back the covers.
"Don't you mean plenty but little time to waste?" Betty tapped with a grin.
"Nope. I meant what I meant."
"You mean you meant what you said," Betty wrote back, eyes dancing with playful mischief.
"Stop correcting me, smarty pants. Come on, let's get you washed up."
And so, the morning unfolded with laughter and chatter echoing through the mansion, something it hadn't heard in a very long time.
Later downstairs, the staff stood stunned as Betty glided down the stairs in a soft floral gown, not her usual high-end, stiff couture.
"Good morning, Ma'am. Good morning, Miss Esther. Breakfast is served," Mather greeted, gesturing toward the long table filled with silver-covered dishes.
Betty looked up at Esther with a questioning gaze.
Esther gave her a wink. "Not today, Mather," she said. "Today, your young madam gets to decide what she wants to eat."
Mather blinked in panic. "But, sir…"
"Mr. Lewis is aware of the changes and has agreed," Esther said smoothly.
The head housekeeper hesitated, then vanished like mist.
"So," Esther turned to Betty with a smile. "What would you like for breakfast?"
The girl stared, processing. Her choice? Her opinion? Really?
"Cornflakes," she typed.
"Cornflakes it is!" Esther declared.
She darted to the kitchen, got Mather's help finding the cereal, and returned in no time with a bowl ready and waiting.
"Here you go. Breakfast, a la Betty."
They were mid-bite when the sound of polished shoes echoed into the room.
Daniel Lewis walked in, sharp as ever in another tailored suit.
"Good morning, sir," Mather greeted nervously.
But Daniel's eyes were already locked on the table.
"What is she having?" he asked, his tone neutral but tight.
"Good morning, Mr. Lewis," Esther said sweetly, ignoring his lack of courtesy. "Betty's having cornflakes."
His frown deepened. "Mather," he called.
She quickly stepped forward. "Sir, Miss Esther permitted it."
He turned fully to Esther. "I told you that you could make changes, not overhaul her diet. Cornflakes is not a proper morning meal."
Esther gasped, dramatically. "Please, Mr. Lewis, don't say that too loudly or the hearts of a million children will shatter!"
He tried to argue, "It's full of sugar and.."
"Then why is it even in your house?" she cut in, one brow raised.
Touché. His mouth opened… then closed. Fair point.
"Just admit it, you're being difficult," Esther went on. "She wanted it, and I gave it to her. What matters is her happiness, not your obsession with rules."
His gaze drifted to Betty, who was still quietly eating, tuning out their bickering.
He exhaled sharply. Arguing with Esther was like arguing with a whirlwind, you'd only end up spun in circles.
"Don't change too much," he grunted, turning to leave.
"How much is 'too much'?" Esther called after him, all sweetness and sarcasm.
He turned with a glare. "You..!"
"Have a nice day, Mr. Lewis," she beamed.
He grunted again and stormed out.
Esther turned to Betty, who was giggling quietly behind her screen.
"Oh, don't laugh," Esther said with mock annoyance. "This man's going to drive me mad one day."
After the tit-for-tat morning argument with Esther, Daniel finally retreated into the comfort of his office, a space cold, sharp, and silent, laced with the familiar scent of brewed coffee and tension. At precisely 8:00 a.m., he stepped through the main doors of LewisTech, crisp in a navy-blue tailored suit. His presence alone straightened backs and muted conversations.
"Good morning, sir," came the chorus of voices from the front desk and nearby staff.
He gave a curt nod, never breaking stride.
Daniel Lewis wasn't the kind of CEO who gave pep talks or praised small victories. He expected brilliance. He demanded it.
Inside his office, Thomas, his ever-loyal assistant, stepped forward and placed a file on his desk.
"Update on the NovaCom project?" Daniel asked, eyes scanning through a separate stack of documents.
Thomas hesitated. "Still in progress, sir."
Daniel's gaze didn't rise immediately, but the air shifted.
"You haven't been keeping track of it, have you?" he asked, voice low but laced with precision.
Thomas swallowed hard. The NovaCom project was critical, an outsourced virtual OS layer designed for a Nigerian smartphone company's flagship launch. Features included voice navigation, gesture controls, an inbuilt AI assistant, and highly efficient multitasking for low-data environments.
"No excuses," Daniel added, finally looking up. "We have two weeks before the contract deadline. If we miss the mark, we lose both money and credibility."
"I'm sorry, sir," Thomas said simply. No excuse would help now.
Before Daniel could reply, a knock broke the thick tension. The door opened and Sarah stepped in, file in hand and wearing her usual confident smile, until she caught the storm cloud brewing.
"Mr. Lewis," she began, "HR just sent over this file. It contains the updated recruitment list and salary adjustments."
Daniel frowned. "Why is this on my desk?"
She blinked. "I thought you'd want to review it personally, especially after hiring the new governess for your daughter.."
"Miss Williams ," he cut in sharply. "Your job doesn't include poking into matters that don't concern you."
The chill in his voice silenced whatever comeback she might have had. She nodded stiffly and exited without another word.
"Get the car," Daniel said to Thomas, already rising. "If you want something done right, do it yourself."
An hour later, the elevator doors at the Tech & Development Wing slid open with a mechanical whisper. A sub branch of the LewisTech Cooperative
Daniel stepped out, his polished shoes echoing against the spotless marble floor of the Software Development Division. The workspace was a hive of activity, glass-walled offices, glowing monitors, digital whiteboards scribbled with equations, prototype mockups flashing across big screens.
He didn't announce himself. He never did.
His presence alone sent silent waves of panic rippling through the floor. Junior developers sat up straighter, tabs were minimized, keyboards clattered in nervous bursts.
Inside the main dev hub, a tall man stood from his station.
"Good morning, sir," said Ibrahim, the Head of Software Development, stepping away from a holographic display showing lines of code and UI schematics.
Daniel approached. His eyes scanned the simulation board without speaking.
"How close are we to integration testing?" he asked finally.
Ibrahim cleared his throat. "We've completed roughly 70% of the front-end. The voice navigation AI is functional in beta. But we're still facing lag on the backend…"
Daniel turned slightly. "Ali."
The lead backend engineer jumped to his feet. "Yes, sir. We're having issues with syncing the voice recognition module to the gesture-responsive dashboard. Latency issues mostly, and.."
"This system isn't supposed to just talk back," Daniel interrupted, now walking toward Ali's workstation. "It's supposed to anticipate, to learn. Predictive learning. Multilingual support. Offline accessibility. That's what NovaCom bought. And that's what we will deliver."
He scanned the screen. Then straightened.
"We're running out of time. The product demo is due in three weeks. There's a milestone clause in the contract. If we miss it, we lose the deal and pay for it."
Everyone knew that. But when Daniel said it aloud, it carried the weight of an execution order.
He paused, then continued calmly, "But this isn't just about contracts. It's about reputation. We don't miss deadlines. We don't release half-baked products. We set the standard."
Silence filled the room like fog, thick and suffocating.
Daniel walked to the central interactive board, tapped the screen, and brought up the project roadmap.
"We trim the slack," he said. "I want this team split into two rotating shifts. Meals and rest breaks stay internal. You'll live here if you must. But I want a functioning demo of the full experience by the end of next week. Voice control. Gesture commands. Smart replies. In English, Yoruba, Hausa, Igbo, and French."
"Yes, sir," Ibrahim replied, mask of calm barely hiding the strain.
Daniel glanced at the screen where the system's prototype avatar blinked to life, a sleek, silver-toned digital assistant.
"Does she have a name?" he asked.
Thomas stepped in. "Temporarily labeled VIVA. Voice-Integrated Virtual Assistant."
Daniel allowed the ghost of a smirk. "Keep it. But make sure she's smarter than half the executives I've met this quarter."
Nobody laughed.
Without another word, Daniel turned and left the room, his footsteps echoing with quiet finality.
The urgency was now real. VIVA wasn't just another system.
She was a deadline with a pulse.
Across the city, the sun blazed hard, washing the skyline in a soft amber hue as evening crept in. Laughter, distant traffic, and chirping birds filled the air. Under the sprawling shade of a neem tree at Victoria Park, Esther and Betty sat quietly, Betty's small hand wrapped tightly around Esther's, her face calm but unreadable.
Esther had picked the park for its open space and gentle vibrancy. She wanted Betty to breathe, to feel sunlight and hear joy around her. After a long day at Lovet Academy, this was their little escape.
Just then, a familiar voice pierced through the noise of the city.
"I'm here!" Dija called out, drawing the gaze of passersby as she jogged across the lawn, her backpack bouncing behind her. Her face was flushed from the run and late lecture.
"Sorry I'm late," she huffed, slowing to a walk as she reached them. "Class dragged longer than planned, some professor with no respect for time!"
Esther let out a relieved sigh. "Glad you made it. You've got perfect timing."
Dija beamed, her eyes already on Betty. "Hello, Betty," she said gently, waving a little. "Do you remember me?"
Betty looked up at her, then turned quietly to Esther, expression blank, no flicker of recognition.
"I'm your cousin," Dija added, undeterred but softening her voice. "My mom is Kadiatu, your mommy's best friend."
Still, nothing. Betty blinked, then looked away, tucking herself closer into Esther's side.
Esther gently touched Dija's arm and led her a few steps away. "Take it easy," she said in a hushed voice. "She hasn't seen you since she was three. It's going to take time."
Dija nodded, her enthusiasm dimming into understanding. "You're right," she murmured. "I just… I don't know, I thought maybe something would click."
"She'll warm up. She's just… guarded," Esther said, offering a faint smile.
The moment passed, and Dija's eyes lit up again. "So, did you get the tickets?" she asked, practically bouncing. "Because I am ready to scream on every terrifying ride in this place!"
Esther laughed and pulled two slips from her bag. "Here you go, madam thrill-seeker."
Dija snatched the ticket and twirled it in the air. "Victoria Park, here I come!"
Esther turned to Betty, kneeling a little to her height. "And this is yours, sweetheart," she said softly, offering her the second ticket.
Betty stared at it for a moment, as if unsure what to do. Then slowly, cautiously, she reached out and took it, her fingers brushing Esther's.
A small step, but a step nonetheless.
"Looks like someone's ready for an adventure," Dija said, winking playfully.
Esther smiled, slipping her hand back into Betty's. "Let's go make memories."
And with that, the trio walked toward the gates of the park, sunlight falling behind them, and the promise of joy ahead.
Victoria Park was alive with colors, laughter, and the faint aroma of popcorn and cotton candy. The sky had softened into an evening blush, and the flickering lights of rides and booths painted the air with magic.
Esther held tightly to Betty's hand as they passed spinning teacups, shrieking roller coasters, and balloon vendors calling out like songbirds.
"Okay!" Dija clapped once, eyes wild with excitement. "First stop, The Drop Tower!" she pointed dramatically at a towering ride that looked like a vertical death wish.
Esther raised a brow. "That's the first thing you want to try?"
"Yes!" Dija grinned like a maniac. "We start with the crazy, then we go soft."
Esther shook her head, laughing. "I'm not getting on that thing."
"You don't have to," Dija said, already tugging on Betty's hand. "But this little warrior will."
Esther tensed slightly. "Hey, she's not ready for.."
But Betty… didn't pull away.
She looked at the ride. Her brows rose. And to everyone's surprise, she nodded.
"Wait, really?" Esther blinked.
Betty gave the tiniest smile. Not full. Not loud. But enough to make Esther's heart catch.
"She's one of us," Dija declared proudly, already leading Betty toward the queue. "Tiny but fearless."
"Lord help me," Esther whispered, following behind.
They got strapped in, the ride jerked them up into the sky, paused, and then whooshed them down like a lightning bolt.
Dija screamed her lungs out. Esther closed her eyes. And Betty, Betty laughed.
Loud.
Real.
Whole.
Her laughter ripped through the air like bells. It wasn't cautious or shy, it was pure joy, wild and uncontrolled, the kind children are meant to have. People turned to look. Esther's heart nearly burst.
When the ride came to a halt, Dija stumbled off, dramatic and dizzy. "Okay, I think I saw the face of God up there."
Betty was giggling, grabbing Dija's hand, tugging her toward the next ride.
"She's smiling," Esther whispered in awe, catching up behind them.
Dija bent to Betty's height. "You, my girl, are crazy brave. That was awesome!"
Betty didn't speak, but she did something more, she reached out and high-fived Dija.
And Dija? She gasped. "OH! That's it. You and I, we're park besties now. Come on, let's find the bumper cars!"
The day blurred into thrill and laughter. Betty rode a small carousel. She climbed a rope wall. She even aimed at water balloons and won a stuffed giraffe with Dija screaming, "That's my girl!"
Esther sat on a bench later that evening, smiling so hard her cheeks hurt, watching Betty and Dija share popcorn under fairy lights.
"Thank you," she whispered to no one in particular, maybe to fate, maybe to God, or maybe to the moment itself.
Betty was no longer the silent shadow she'd been weeks ago.
Tonight, she was just a child again, laughing, running, living.
And that, to Esther, was everything.