Chapter 95 CHAPTER 95
The Return
The clock ticked softly on the wall, its rhythm steady against the hum of the mansion’s power. Outside, moonlight stretched over the long drive and flickered faintly against the parked van, the same one that had carried secrets and stolen breaths.
Ethan was sprawled across the bed, half covered by the sheet. His breathing was deep, steady, untroubled, a sleep that looked innocent but wasn’t earned. Beside him, a small glass of untouched wine sat on the nightstand, the rim still glossy with Ayisha’s fingerprints.
She sat at the edge of the bed, unmoving, eyes fixed on the wall. Her fingers twitched against her lap. It wasn’t guilt. Not exactly. It was that sharp ache that comes before a decision, the kind that burns the soul before the body acts. The sleeping pills she had slipped into Ethan’s drink were fast, heavy, chosen precisely for this. By now, he was deep under, his muscles too heavy to obey even if he dreamed of waking.
Ayisha stood up slowly, her breath shallow. She glanced back once at him, the man who thought he could calculate everything, even morality and whispered under her breath, “I’m sorry, Ethan.”
Her whisper was soft, but it seemed to echo. She gathered her bag from the dresser, her movements swift but careful. The moonlight caught her eyes for a second, not soft, not cold, but full of some fierce purpose. She turned toward the hallway.
In the children’s room, the four small bodies were already dressed. They had been awake for hours, sitting on their beds, eyes wide, uncertain. Jamal was the first to move when the door creaked open.
“Aunty?” he whispered. "Please don't hurt us, aunty."
Ayisha pressed a finger to her lips and crouched. “Quiet,” she murmured. “We’re going for a drive.”
Beauty rubbed her eyes. “Where?”
Ayisha exhaled slowly. “Home,” she said, voice low but firm. “I’m taking you back home to your daddy. I am mad at your mother but you guys don't deserve this.”
The word home hit the air like a spark. The children looked at each other, as if unsure whether to believe it. Jamal was the only one who hesitated. His dream, the one where his siblings had fallen still clung to his chest like smoke. But when Ayisha reached for his hand, he followed, silent.
They moved quietly down the stairs. Ayisha carried Pretty in her arms, Beauty held Kamal’s hand tightly, Jamal trailed behind. Outside, the air was sharp and cool. The van sat in the driveway, quiet and waiting. Ayisha loaded them inside one by one, checking over her shoulder with every motion.
When she closed the door, she paused for just a heartbeat, staring back at the mansion. The windows were dark except for the faint light of the room where Ethan slept. For a moment, she imagined what it would look like when he woke, the rage, the confusion, the realization that he’d lost everything he thought he controlled.
She started the van.
The engine turned with a low hum, and the tires rolled over gravel. The gates opened with their slow, obedient movement, as if the house itself hadn’t noticed betrayal passing through. When the van reached the street, Ayisha pressed harder on the accelerator, the speedometer climbing. Her pulse matched it beat for beat.
Inside, the children were quiet. Only Pretty whispered softly, “Aunty Ayisha, are we really going home?”
Ayisha’s hands tightened on the wheel. “Yes, baby. I’m taking you to your parents.”
No one spoke after that.
The drive was long, the night deeper the farther they went. The roads were empty, the headlights cutting tunnels through the darkness. The children had begun to nod off one by one, their small bodies leaning against each other like a bundle of exhausted birds. Only Jamal stayed awake, his eyes reflecting the pale lights outside. He didn’t trust peace, not anymore.
When the mansion gates finally came into view, Ayisha slowed. It was Ares’s house — tall, iron wrought, guarded by statues and cameras. But at this hour, it was asleep too. She parked the van a few meters from the main steps and turned off the lights. For a moment, her hand hovered over the ignition, trembling slightly.
Then she exhaled and said quietly, “We’re here.”
Jamal blinked. “Whose house is this?”
Ayisha turned, meeting his eyes. “Your father’s,” she said. "Look, don't you recognize it?"
He stared at her, then at his sleeping siblings. “Yes I do. Thank you aunty.”
“Yes.” She forced a small smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “You’ll be safe now. I am sorry I took you.”
She opened the door and stepped into the cold. The air carried the smell of dew and iron gates. She went around to the back, opened the van doors, and gently lifted Pretty first, then Beauty. Jamal and Kamal climbed out on their own, silent and alert.
“Go,” Ayisha whispered. “Knock on the gate. Someone will open.”
The children hesitated. “You’re not coming?” Kamal asked.
Ayisha shook her head quickly. “I can’t. But you’ll be fine now. Go on.”
The hesitation lingered but only for a heartbeat. Jamal took his siblings’ hands and led them up the path. The gravel crunched beneath their bare feet, small sounds swallowed by the night.
Ayisha stood by the van, watching them climb the steps. They knocked, small, uncertain sounds against the heavy gate, then Jamal pressed the bell. She waited just long enough to see the lights on inside the mansion.
Then she turned and ran.
Inside, the sudden pounding at the front door stirred the quiet house. Ares was the first to move, still half asleep from the alcohol of the previous night. He stumbled into the hallway, rubbing his temples. “Who the hell—?” he muttered.
Behind him, Tessa appeared, her hair disheveled, wearing one of Ares’s shirts. Chloe came next, yawning, followed by Julian with a glass of water in his hand.
The knocking came again, desperate this time.
Ares frowned and threw the door open.
For a split second, he thought his eyes were lying. Four small faces, blinking up at him, pale and frightened under the porch light. Then Tessa gasped, a raw, sharp sound that sliced the silence in half.
“Oh my God…” she whispered. “My babies...”
She pushed past Ares and fell to her knees, arms outstretched. The children froze for a moment then Beauty screamed, a cry that broke something in the air, and ran into her Ares' arms. Pretty followed, then Kamal. Jamal stood back, shaking, his lips trembling, then finally let go and ran forward too.
Tessa hugged them all together, sobbing, kissing their faces, whispering their names over and over again like she was trying to convince herself they were real.
Ares just stood there. His mouth opened, but no words came out. His chest tightened painfully, his hands trembling as he knelt beside them. “How—” he choked. “Where did you—who brought you here?”
The children didn’t answer. They clung to him, crying softly, overwhelmed, too exhausted to explain.
Chloe covered her mouth with both hands, her eyes wide. Julian set his glass down slowly and said under his breath, “Holy hell.”
Ares lifted his gaze, his mind racing through possibilities, escape, ransom, police but all he could see were his children. Their faces. Their eyes. Their tears.
Tessa held them tighter, sobbing into their hair. “I thought I’d lost you,” she whispered. “I thought I’d never see you again.”
When Ares finally found his voice, it was rough. “We have to get them inside.” He turned, waving everyone in. “Julian, close the door. Now.”
They carried the kids into the living room. Tessa refused to let go. Chloe fetched blankets from the couch, wrapping them around the trembling little bodies. Julian stood by the window, peering out, scanning the street. “Whoever dropped them off didn’t wait,” he said. “No car, no sound. Just gone.”
Tessa’s tears slowed, replaced by confusion and anger. “They must have escaped,” she murmured. “Someone must have helped them.”
Ares’s eyes narrowed. “Or someone finally grew a conscience.”
He looked out the window too, the street quiet under the moon. Somewhere out there, Ayisha was driving fast, heart pounding, her foot pressed to the floor.
Back at Ethan’s mansion, the van’s absence was a wound in the quiet. Ayisha pulled into the driveway minutes later, her pulse still racing. She parked in the exact spot she had taken it from. Her movements were steady now, cold, practiced. She climbed out, brushed the dust from her clothes, and entered the house through the back door.
Inside, the clock on the wall blinked 3:14 AM.
Ethan was still sprawled on the bed, breathing deep and slow. The drugs had worked perfectly. Ayisha slipped off her shoes, took off her coat, and walked silently to the mirror. Her reflection looked older, tired, but free.
She turned to the bed, studied him for a moment, then lay down beside him. The sheet was cool. She shifted until her head rested on the same pillow as his, her eyes open, fixed on the ceiling.
Her breathing slowed, syncing with his.
And when the first light of dawn touched the curtains, Ayisha closed her eyes and pretended to sleep, like nothing had ever happened.