Nadia's voice sliced the cafe like a machete through humid air, every patron's eyes glued to the drama. Her red stilettos clicked fury across the marble floor, fake lashes fluttering rage. "Bastard kid, Damian? The one your Batak clan disowned you over? Marry her, and it all explodes!"
Damian stood unmoved, a tower of controlled storm, but Ayla caught the vein pulsing at his temple. Rain pattered cafe windows now, mirroring the chaos brewing. "Nadia, enough. We're done. Leave."
"Done? You dumped me for stocks!" Nadia snatched the contract folder, flipping pages with manicured nails. "This trash? She's your cover-up puppet. I have photos—the boy in Samosir, your spitting image. DNA don't lie."
Ayla's world tilted. She snatched the folder back, heart hammering. "Boy? You have a son? This contract's a lie from jump!"
Damian's gaze flicked to her—steel softening a fraction, pleading. "Forged. Nadia's revenge porn. Get in the car, Ayla. I'll explain."
Nadia cackled. "Explain to your board tomorrow's headlines! Arkan's secret spawn—stocks tank, clan hunts you down." She whipped out her phone, snapping pics of Ayla's shocked face.
Ayla bolted, contract clutched like a grenade. Medan streets swallowed her—motorbikes honking, warung smoke stinging eyes. Her phone exploded: Mom. *Ayla, sharks at the house! Dad's fading!*
Tears blurred the chaos. Damian's Mercedes screeched beside her, door flying open. "Inside. Now."
She dove in, soaked and shaking. "Truth, or no deal."
Rain lashed as they sped. Damian gripped the wheel white-knuckled. "Nadia got pregnant three years back—claimed mine. DNA proved otherwise; her ex's kid. She faked 'bastard' docs to trap me. My Batak family? Old land barons. They cut me off when I built resorts on 'sacred' soil. No kid. Swear."
Ayla studied his profile—sharp angles hiding pain. "Swear on what? Your empire?"
"On everything." His voice cracked, human for the first time. They pulled into Harapan Sejahtera's lot. Thugs loitered by the entrance—tattooed bruisers, Reno the leader smirking with a gold tooth.
"Arkan! Heard you're shopping brides." Reno cracked knuckles. "Nadia sends regards—paid us to remind your debts ain't erased."
Ayla gasped. Mom stumbled out, face swollen, dress ripped. "Ayla!"
Fury ignited. Damian exited like a panther, envelope of cash out. "Five hundred million. Vanish."
Reno splashed it in a puddle. "Nah. We know the contract. Batak elders incoming too—your clan's pissed about the 'lowborn' cover for your shame."
Fight broke: thugs swung pipes, Damian dodged and struck—fist cracking jaw, knee crumpling gut. Blood sprayed rain-slick pavement. Ayla dragged Mom inside, nurses swarming.
Damian staggered in, lip busted, shirt torn revealing inked Batak tattoos snaking his chest. "Sign it. Dad's surgery waits."
Pen in hand, Ayla scrawled amid sobs. *Mrs. Arkan—on paper.* Doctor nodded: "Bill paid anonymously."
But as ink dried, unknown text hit: *Signed your soul away, doll? Ask about the boy's real dad. -N*
Damian's phone buzzed same. He crushed it. "Bluff."
ER doors crashed. Batak elders in ulos shawls barreled in, leader thrusting a photo: boy, five, Damian's mini-me. "Claim him, traitor—or blood feud starts with your new 'wife'!"