The morning in Kensington didn't begin with bitter coffee, but with an order for business execution. Arthur, though still a bit pale, was already seated at his dining table with a laptop open and three phones vibrating alternately. Across from him, Elena was chewing on toast, watching him intently.
"James," Arthur's voice was cold on the phone. "I don't care if Julian threatens to sue. Hand over all the evidence of the embezzlement he did on the Dubai project five years ago to the authorities. Ensure he has no access to the Montgomery Corp building starting at ten this morning."
Elena was stunned. "You're really destroying your own uncle?"
Arthur closed his phone, looking at Elena with eyes that were once again sharp. "He tried to erase your name from that building, El. That was a fatal mistake that cannot be forgiven with a simple apology. He has to lose everything."
"And... what about my father?" Elena asked softly, putting down her toast. "You said we would face him together."
Arthur stood up, walking toward Elena. He no longer looked like the "wet chicken" from last night. "We're going to Jakarta, Elena. Tomorrow. I've prepared the private jet. We're going to finish what started seven years ago at that airport. I don't want to build a future with you on a foundation full of secrets and threats."
Elena took a deep breath. Jakarta. A city full of sweet memories and unhealed wounds. Going home meant facing Mr. Surya, the man she had always idolized but who turned out to be the mastermind behind her suffering.
"I'm scared, Art," Elena whispered honestly.
Arthur took Elena's hand, bringing her fingers to his lips. This time it wasn't just a peck, but a promise. "Don't be afraid. This time, I'm not leaving. If he wants to ruin your career, he has to destroy me first. And believe me... I'm much harder to destroy than I was seven years ago."
Elena's apartment was a mess of silk dresses, architectural blueprints, and half-empty suitcases. But the real noise wasn't coming from her packing—it was coming from the phone perched on a pile of books.
"HE DID WHAT?!" Ririn's voice was so loud it distorted through the speaker. "He's taking you back on a private jet? El, I'm currently stuck on a TransJakarta bus that smells like wet umbrellas and fried tofu, and you're telling me you're about to fly like a literal queen? The universe is so unfair!"
Elena laughed, tucking a pair of heels into a dust bag. "Rin, it's not a vacation. He's taking me back because he wants to confront my father. He knows everything now. He knows about the threats."
The line went silent for a few seconds. In the background, Elena could hear the muffled sound of the bus conductor shouting. When Ririn spoke again, the playfulness was gone.
"So, the truth is out," Ririn whispered. "How do you feel, El? I mean, for seven years you thought Arthur was the villain. Now you find out the 'hero' of your life—your own dad—is the one who broke your heart. That's a lot to carry on a thirteen-hour flight."
Elena stopped packing. she sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the small silver sketching pencil Arthur had returned to her. "I feel like my whole life was a carefully constructed building, Rin. And someone just told me the foundation was made of lies. I'm angry. I'm so angry at my father for thinking he could buy my success by selling my happiness. But I'm also terrified. What if seeing him destroys what's left of our family?"
"Then let it destroy it," Ririn said firmly. "If a family is built on blackmail, it deserves to fall. You're an architect, Elena. If the old building is rotten, you tear it down and build something stronger. And this time, you have Arthur Montgomery as your general contractor. Use him."
Elena smiled, a single tear hitting the suitcase. "You always know what to say, even if you say it like a maniac."
"That's my job! Now, listen. When you land at Soekarno-Hatta, I'll be there. I don't care if Arthur's bodyguards try to stop me. I'm coming in with a 'Welcome Home' banner and enough gossip to fill the Java Sea. And El? Make sure you look expensive. Wear that coat you bought at Harrods. Let your dad see that London didn't just make you an architect—it made you a force of nature."
The Gulfstream G650ER took off from Luton Airport just as the sun was beginning to set over the English countryside. Inside the cabin, the world was a hushed sanctuary of hand-stitched leather, polished walnut, and the soft scent of white tea.
Elena sat in a wide, swivel chair, watching the lights of London turn into a shimmering web of diamonds before disappearing beneath a blanket of clouds. For the first time in years, she felt like she was suspended in time. Between the life she had built in London and the ghosts waiting for her in Jakarta, there was only this—the hum of the engines and the man sitting across from her.
Arthur wasn't working. He had pushed his laptop aside. He was watching her, his chin resting on his hand, his blue eyes reflecting the dim cabin lights.
"You're remarkably quiet," Arthur said. His voice was a low vibration that seemed to cut through her anxiety.
"I'm just... I'm trying to remember the last time I went home," Elena said, turning from the window. "I went back for my aunt's funeral three years ago, but I only stayed for two days. I avoided our old school. I avoided the park where we used to sit. I lived like a stranger in my own city because everywhere I looked, I saw the version of you that I hated."
Arthur stood up and moved to the seat next to her. He didn't say a word, just took her hand and laced his fingers through hers. His grip was steady, a silent anchor.
"I did the opposite," Arthur confessed, his voice tinged with a raw honesty. "Every building I designed, every deal I closed, I did it while looking at a map of Jakarta in my head. I would tell myself, 'If I win this, I'm one step closer to being strong enough to go back.' I spent seven years building a bridge back to you, Elena. I just didn't realize the bridge was already there—I just had to stop being a coward and walk across it."
Elena leaned her head on his shoulder. The luxury of the jet felt secondary to the simple warmth of his body. "Do you think he'll hate you? My father?"
Arthur's jaw tightened. "He doesn't have to like me. He just has to respect the fact that he can no longer control you through me. I'm not that seventeen-year-old boy who could be scared away with a checkbook and a threat anymore. I've faced men much more dangerous than Surya Pratama."
"He's still my father, Art," she reminded him softly.
"I know. And I will be respectful. But I will not be silent," Arthur turned to face her, his expression fierce. "He stole seven years from us, Elena. Seven years of mornings we could have shared, seven years of successes we could have celebrated together. I can forgive him for hating me, but I cannot forgive him for making you cry."
A flight attendant appeared silently, placing a small tray of Indonesian snacks—lapis legit and warm jasmine tea—on the table between them. "Mr. Montgomery thought you might want a taste of home before we arrive," the attendant said with a bow.
Elena looked at the cake, then at Arthur. "You remembered these were my favorites."
"I remembered everything, Elena. I remembered the way you take your tea, the way you bite your lip when you're nervous, and the way you used to dream of seeing the world from this high up."
As the jet chased the dawn across the continents, they didn't talk about business or boards or buildings. They talked about the small things—the things they had missed. Arthur told her about his first lonely winter in London, eating cold beans because he spent his last pounds on a fountain pen for his sketches. Elena told him about the first time she saw her name on a blueprint in a major firm.
But as the pilot announced their descent into Indonesian airspace, the air in the cabin changed. The humidity of the tropics seemed to seep through the pressurized seal.
Arthur stood up, smoothing his charcoal suit, the "Monster CEO" mask sliding back into place. He offered his hand to Elena. "Are you ready, Miss Wardana? The 'anchor' is gone. It's time to show them the ocean."
Elena took his hand, her heart racing as she saw the familiar coastline of Java appearing through the clouds. "Ready."