People are quick to judge.
What they see, they take as truth.
And when it's a scandal? The storm arrives—merciless, endless.
Saka never imagined that a single mistake from his father's past could drag their family's name—and the legacy of Ardhananta Group—into the abyss.
Last night, the company's stock collapsed like dominoes. Trust, something built for decades, vanished in mere hours. Investors panicked, voices on the news overlapped, and the same headline echoed again and again: "Conglomerate Tied to Hit-and-Run Scandal." Gossip twisted the blade deeper, turning whispers into fire.
This morning, the boardroom no longer felt like a place of business, but a courtroom. Eight partners sat in a row, their suits immaculate, their ties straight—but their eyes sharp, cold, merciless. The ticking clock pierced the silence. Each second fell heavy, like the hammer of judgment.
"I'm from Aurevia Estates." One of them finally spoke, his voice a scalpel cutting through the tension. "What is Ardhananta Group's plan to contain this scandal? We need assurance."
At the far end, Saka sat alone. His fingers tightened around his pen until his knuckles whitened. His head buzzed, his thoughts colliding like waves—but his lips refused to part.
Beside him, Pak Gatra tried to step in. "Gentlemen, allow me to—"
"Forgive me, Sir." Another voice sliced in, this time from Velmora Residences. His eyes locked on Saka like a blade. "With respect, we'd prefer to hear directly from Mr. Saka. He is the one responsible here."
The air froze. All eyes turned toward him.
Saka inhaled, straightening his back. The weight of centuries pressed on his shoulders, yet he forced his gaze upward.
"I understand," he began, his voice deep, steady despite the storm. "I won't pretend to have a quick solution. We all know how the media works—today, it's us. Tomorrow, it will be someone else. For now, we must wait for the legal process to run its course."
"Wait?" an investor snapped, disbelief sharpening his tone. "And if the fire doesn't die down?"
"Exactly." Another leaned forward. "How can we be sure our investments won't sink with you?"
The silence pressed harder. Saka's eyes swept across their faces—searching, hoping for a glimmer of trust. None.
Finally, his voice broke through, low but resolute.
"I won't lie to you. I don't know if things will ever return to normal. But one thing is certain: if my father is proven guilty, I will not chain anyone here. You have the right to leave."
Slowly, he rose. The screech of his chair against the floor thundered in the silence. Then, with both hands at his sides, he bowed deeply.
"On behalf of my family, I apologize. I can't change the past. But I will bear its consequences today."
No one moved. No one spoke.
Until, one by one, the investors rose.
"Very well. We'll wait for the investigation."
Their footsteps echoed as they left, the heavy door closing like a verdict behind them.
Saka remained bowing, unmoving, until the last shadow disappeared.
"Mas, you didn't need to bow that deeply," Pak Gatra whispered, rushing to lift him. "This isn't your fault."
A faint, bitter smile tugged at Saka's lips.
"Apologizing never lowers your worth, Pak. It shows you're brave enough to face the truth. Papi entrusted me with this company. If he falls, then I will carry the weight beside him."
Pak Gatra's eyes glistened. "Mas Saka… you've always been like this. Strong, even when the world turns against you."
Saka exhaled. In the chaos, Cayra's face flickered in his mind—her smile, her gaze. For a fleeting second, remembering her felt like breathing again.
But only for a second. Reality crashed back, heavy and unrelenting.
Quickly, he brushed at his eyes. He couldn't afford to show weakness now.
Then, Pak Gatra's phone buzzed. The shrill sound cracked the silence. His face tightened as he read the message.
"Mas… we're being called to the police station. They said there's important news."
Saka's heart lurched. "Another storm?" His voice was barely a whisper.
"I don't know."
They hurried out together, each step burdened with silent prayers.
Please… not another storm.
~~~
Across the city, the tension inside Nebula Creatives' meeting room was no less suffocating. Four people sat around the long table. The presentation had gone on for nearly half an hour, but Cayra's mind was elsewhere.
At the front, Tasha and Yudha exchanged responses with Gilang—Manterra's COO, standing in for Saka. Slide after slide introduced cleansing balm, night serum, moisturizers enriched with ginseng, hyaluronic acid, centella. The words were perfect, the products flawless—but for Cayra, everything passed like wind.
"Ca," Tasha whispered.
No response. Cayra still stared blankly at her untouched notes.
"Miss Cayra?" Gilang's voice carried a polite concern.
She blinked, exhaling. "Sorry, I was… distracted."
"You okay?" Tasha leaned closer, worry etched on her face.
"I'm fine. Just thinking… how can we promote anything when Mr. Saka's family is drowning in scandal?"
The word hung in the air like smoke.
"Do people even know Manterra belongs to him?" Yudha asked, practical.
"They do," Tasha sighed. "Netizens are part-time FBI. Give them a name, they'll dig your whole ancestry."
"So, the strategy of putting Mr. Saka at the center…?"
"Postponed," Yudha guessed.
"Not postponed," Gilang corrected sharply. "Yesterday we tested the waters with a soft launch post. The comments were pure backlash. If we push forward, we'll sink."
Tasha bit her lip. "Then… the launch itself?"
Cayra finally looked up. "We wait. If Mr. Ardhananta is cleared, the family's name will heal."
"And if he's guilty?" Yudha pressed.
The room chilled. No answer came. Even the hum of the AC felt deafening.
Cayra rubbed her temple. "If that happens… we pivot. Focus on Mr. Saka. His resilience, his story of building Manterra when even his own family doubted him. People love a redemption arc. That could be our shield."
Tasha's eyes lit faintly. "Like a short documentary? Honest, behind-the-scenes?"
"Yes. Something that reminds people Saka isn't his father's shadow. He has his own light."
"And if netizens still hate?" Gilang's tone was sharp.
Cayra shrugged, voice steady. "Then at least we tried. Hearts can be softened—with the right story, the right picture."
The meeting continued, strategies debated and reshaped. Yet through it all, Cayra's chest stayed heavy. Saka's absence was too loud.
When it ended, Gilang shook their hands. "I'll update you once I know more."
"Let's hope for the best," Tasha said sincerely.
"Pray we find a way," Gilang added, thinly smiling.
Soon, the room emptied—until only Cayra remained.
She sank into her chair, burying her face in her hands. Why am I worrying this much? Who am I? Just a partner. Not his lover. Not his family. Yet why does it feel like I'm being pulled into his storm?
Her head pounded. She stood to fetch coffee—then froze. Two employees whispered nearby.
"Did you see the news? Mr. Saka's father was released."
"No way."
"Here. The victim's son withdrew the charges. Press conference just ended."
Cayra's breath caught. The world slowed. She walked away, trembling fingers pulling out her phone as she stepped onto the rooftop.
The headline burned on the screen: "Charges Against Mahesa Ardhananta Dropped."
A video played—showing Mr. Ardhananta and the accuser embracing each other.
Cayra stared. The tight knot in her chest loosened, relief spilling quietly through her veins.
Saka… do you know? Will this be enough to let you breathe again?
She searched the footage for him. His face was nowhere. Absent.
The rooftop wind brushed against her cheeks as she whispered softly,
"I hope you're okay."
Because no matter how fierce the storm is…
Saka should never drown for sins that were never his.
~~~
EPILOGUE ✨
The most nerve-wracking thing in the world is when you're told to come immediately… yet have no idea what's waiting for you.
For Saka, the short drive to the police station felt like endless miles. The ticking of the dashboard clock sounded louder than his own breathing. His chest tightened, as if even the air refused to enter. In his heart, he prayed silently: please, not another piece of bad news.
The moment the car stopped, flashes of cameras blinded him. Dozens of reporters swarmed the police courtyard, a sea of blinding light and booming voices. Microphones shoved forward, questions exploded in every direction, and Saka nearly lost his footing in the chaos.
Head down, he walked swiftly inside, Pak Gatra faithfully trailing behind.
But in the main hall, his steps froze.
There, seated side by side in front of rows of reporters, were his father and Zayn—the accuser. A police officer sat beside them, serving as the official moderator. Camera flashes tore across their faces like relentless lightning.
A reporter's sharp question pierced through the room.
"Mr. Zayn, why did you withdraw the report? Was there pressure? Or… money involved?"
A hushed murmur rippled through the crowd.
Zayn gave a faint smile, though his eyes trembled. "I expected that question. But my answer is simple: no threats, no payment. This decision… is entirely my own."
The room erupted in murmurs.
Zayn took a deep breath, his voice breaking slightly. "I know it's not easy to forget loss. But last night, my mother said something that changed everything. That Pak Mahesa… wasn't the perpetrator. He was the one who saved her that day."
Whispers surged across the room.
"I realize now… I was too quick to judge. My anger blinded me. When all along, for years, Pak Mahesa treated me like his own son. Today, I finally understand… he's been part of my family all this time."
Tears streamed down Zayn's face. He stood, bowing deeply toward Mahesa and his family. "To Bu Retno, to Kak Gita, Kak Tari… and to Kak Saka—I'm truly sorry."
Mahesa rose to his feet, gently lifting Zayn up, then pulled him into a firm embrace. Camera shutters exploded again, flashing like a storm of applause made of light.
Another reporter turned to Mahesa. "Pak Mahesa, is there anything you'd like to say?"
Mahesa remained silent for a long moment. When his voice finally came, it was more fragile than ever. "I… only want to apologize to my own family. For hiding the truth all this time. I was afraid they'd be disappointed, afraid they'd stop seeing me as a father."
His eyes glistened as he looked at Saka, at Retno, and at his daughters. "But please believe me… from the beginning until the very end, my love for you has never changed."
The room fell utterly silent. Only the clicking of cameras remained, as if recording the moment as history itself.
The police then declared: "With the withdrawal of the report by the accuser, this case is officially closed. The full chronology cannot be disclosed, as it is private. But one thing is certain: there is no culprit here. Both were victims. And Pak Mahesa… is a good man."
Some in the room began to clap—soft, but sincere.
Saka stood rooted in place, his gaze fixed on the embrace between his father and Zayn. Something heavy inside him… slowly began to melt.
The camera flashes still stung his eyes, but strangely, they no longer felt condemning. This time, the light seemed to give him space.
Maybe I didn't always feel the warmth of a father's love… but perhaps someone else needed it more. And maybe… Papi believed I was strong enough to stand without his guidance.
Saka exhaled deeply. For the first time, he felt like more than just an heir, more than just his father's shadow. He felt like himself.
And amidst the noise, a faint smile touched his lips. Yet it quickly faded as his eyes returned to his father.
Inwardly, Saka wondered: What other secrets has Papi hidden from us? All my life, I've only seen the strength of a father—but could it be that behind that strength lies a wound too deep to ever voice?
He was certain now—behind every strong facade, there's always a fragile soul. And perhaps… his father's fragility wasn't just personal. It was a ticking time bomb that could one day shatter the entire family.
And it felt as though… that truth was already on its way.
Saka knew, this wasn't the end. It was only the beginning of something far greater. Because every secret revealed… always drags another secret into the light.
And for the first time, Saka realized… his father's greatest secret may have never been spoken to anyone.