"Alright, Ms. Arsyeela. Adrian, I'll leave you in her care. And Adrian—welcome to your new division," said Mrs. Ajeng before leaving the room.
"Thank you, Mrs. Ajeng."
Arsyeela smiled politely, then turned to Adrian. "You can sit next to Ryan for now."
As the door closed, the atmosphere turned formal again.
"Okay, everyone," Arsyeela's voice grew firm once more, "as I mentioned earlier, we have a new project coming up. This time, we'll be competing directly with another department. And yes—the project value reaches the trillions."
The team tensed, a mix of excitement and caution spreading through the room.
Arsyeela tried to stay focused throughout the meeting. Her expression remained composed, but her mind was far from still. She knew this project wasn't just business—it was a family war. And her opponent was none other than Ginandra, her cousin who never missed a chance to bring her down for reasons she could never understand.
The meeting went by quickly yet intensely. Ideas kept flowing nonstop until they realized lunchtime had long passed. The office lights dimmed, signaling that night had fallen.
"We should wrap up for today. Thank you for your hard work, everyone," Arsyeela finally said, closing the meeting.
The room slowly emptied. Arsyeela tidied up her desk, listening as the last footsteps faded into the hallway. Only the hum of the air conditioner remained—soft, monotonous, reminding her that the workday had stretched too long.
She gazed at the glass wall filled with scribbles of ideas.
"Trillions of rupiah…" she murmured quietly.
The number itself was tempting, but that wasn't what weighed on her chest. Winning this project meant only one thing: the Pramatya family stage had been reopened—and every eye would be watching to see who deserved to stay on top.
Arsyeela stood in front of the elevator, lost in thought, her mind still tangled between strategies and the shadow of family rivalry.
"Ms. Arsyeela," a soft voice called from behind.
She turned. Adrian stood a few steps away, a backpack slung over one shoulder.
"The elevator's been open for a while. Are you heading home?" he asked carefully.
Arsyeela flinched slightly, then smiled awkwardly. "Ah, yes… thank you. I didn't notice."
They entered the elevator together, silence stretching between them—awkward, yet not entirely uncomfortable.
On the mirrored surface of the elevator door, their reflections stood side by side.
For a brief moment, Arsyeela's gaze lingered on Adrian's reflection.
Those eyes… why do they feel familiar? she thought, startled.
But just as quickly, she brushed the thought away.
Don't be ridiculous, Arsyeela. He's not the man from that night.
When the elevator opened at the lobby, a familiar voice stopped her steps.
"Ms. Arsyeela!" Nina hurried over, her face tense.
"Sorry, Ma'am, but there's an urgent family meeting tonight. All the Pramatya elders will be present."
Arsyeela stiffened.
An unexpected family meeting? That was never a good sign.
"At whose residence?" she asked quickly, her tone even but her eyes narrowing.
"At Mr. Angga's, Ma'am," Nina replied softly.
Arsyeela exhaled heavily, her jaw tightening to contain a mix of fatigue and irritation.
Unbeknownst to them, Adrian was still standing a few steps behind. He caught the tension in her tone when she said "family meeting," and the way her expression shifted—like she was holding something inside.
"Uh… excuse me, Ms. Arsyeela," Adrian said cautiously. "I don't mean to pry, but… you seem a bit tense. Is everything alright?"
Arsyeela and Nina both turned—only now realizing he was still there. The air turned awkward again.
"Oh, it's nothing," Arsyeela replied after a short breath. "You can head home, Adrian. We'll continue the team discussion tomorrow. It's getting late."
"Alright, Ma'am." Adrian nodded politely and left.
Once he was out of sight, Arsyeela let out a long sigh. For some reason, being near Adrian made her feel… different. Not as composed as usual.
She turned to Nina again, regaining her composure.
"Prepare everything I need for tonight. You know how they get when something isn't up to their standards."
"I already have, Ma'am."
"Good. Let's go, then."
The night outside had grown darker. On the way to Uncle Angga's house, the city lights flickered past the car window. Arsyeela watched them absentmindedly—each light a reminder of the unrelenting weight of the Pramatya name.
"All key family members are present tonight, Ma'am," Nina said quietly from the front seat.
Arsyeela fell silent. It felt like walking into a battlefield.
The Pramatya family wasn't just a business dynasty—it was an arena, where every step could become a weapon.
When the car stopped in front of a grand colonial-style mansion, Arsyeela's breath caught. Rows of luxury cars lined the street.
She caught her reflection in the car window—a woman in a sharp suit, but with eyes that had grown weary from being constantly judged by the world.
If only I weren't part of this crazy family, she thought bitterly.
Taking a deep breath, she stepped out.
Inside, the grand living room was already filled with too-familiar faces.
Grandfather Amtara sat at the center sofa, surrounded by his children. Arseno, Arsyeela's father, sat to his right; behind him stood her mother, Renjana. On the other side were Uncle Aldian and Aunt Alyssia, followed by Uncle Ardaka and his twin sons, Jihan and Jinan.
At the far end sat Uncle Angga—the host of the evening.
As Arsyeela greeted her grandfather, every head turned toward her.
Grandfather Amtara studied her for a long moment before finally speaking softly,
"So, you've finally arrived, Arsyeela."
His tone was calm, but as cold as steel.
"I'm sorry, Grandpa. I just finished from work," she said respectfully.
"It's alright," he replied, tapping his cane twice—a familiar signal that the family meeting would begin.
"Very well. Let's start."
The atmosphere grew stiff—so thick it could be cut with a knife.
Arsyeela straightened her shoulders, standing beside her mother, bracing herself for whatever was to come.
Grandfather Amtara glanced at several documents laid out on the large coffee table before him.
"As you all know, our company has received a major project proposal. The value isn't small—over two trillion rupiah."
"And I've decided that two divisions will present their proposals. Ginandra's division…" —his gaze shifted to the left, where a man in a navy-blue suit sat confidently— "…and Arsyeela's division."
A soft murmur rippled around the room.
Eyes darted between the two, as if witnessing a duel long anticipated.
Uncle Angga, the host, crossed his arms and spoke quietly,
"An interesting move, Father. Putting the two most ambitious grandchildren in the same arena."
His tone sounded like praise, but his eyes glimmered with quiet amusement.
Grandfather Amtara ignored it.
"I want to see who among you truly understands this business—who works with their mind, and who works with their ego."
Arsyeela held her breath. She had already suspected this. The project wasn't just a business opportunity—it was a silent test.
A battle to determine who deserved to climb higher within the family.
Ginandra smiled faintly, almost mockingly.
"Grandfather, of course I'll give my best. But if I'm honest, I don't want my dear cousin to feel too pressured. A project of this scale… isn't exactly small."
The polite smile on his lips was like a golden dagger.
Arsyeela met his gaze coolly.
"Thank you for your concern, Brother Ginandra. But I believe if Grandfather entrusted this project to me, it means he knows I'm capable of handling it."
A few heads turned sharply toward them.
Uncle Ardaka, the blunt one, chuckled.
"Hm, seems like the younger generation's grown bolder than we were."
Grandfather Amtara tapped his cane again, bringing everyone's focus back.
"Enough. I don't want empty debates. Two weeks from now, each of you will present your concept, strategy, and projected profit. Whoever shows the stronger result—will lead the project."
Silence fell once again. Everyone knew: this wasn't just about business. It was about status, trust, and—most likely—the path toward succession.
Arsyeela straightened her back while Ginandra grinned wider.
On the other side, Renjana watched her daughter with quiet worry, while Arseno stayed silent, hiding his conflict behind the mask of a dutiful son trapped between love and tradition.
Grandfather Amtara scanned the room one last time before ending the meeting with a heavy tone,
"You may compete, but remember—when you carry the Pramatya name, it's not just yourselves on the line. Don't let this family's honor become the price of your ambition."
But as his cane struck the floor for the final time, everyone in the room knew one thing:
The word honor was just a mask.
What was truly at stake that night—was power.