Chapter 23

Chapter 23
The echoing silence of the now empty conference hall swallowed Elara's question whole. “What did you mean by that?” Her voice was barely a whisper, yet it pierced through the silence. Her gaze demanded an answer, penetrating the mask that was now perfectly back in place on Adrian's face. The tense aura surrounding them was far thicker than the camera smoke from the journalists earlier.

Adrian did not answer immediately. He merely stared at Elara, his eyes, as blue as a storm-tossed sea, now felt as cold as Arctic ice. His jaw clenched, the muscles in his cheeks tightening. A brief flicker of emotion crossed his features—guilt? regret? Elara wasn't sure, but it was enough to shake his solid defenses. The air between them vibrated with unspoken memories, unmade promises, and a betrayal that felt so real. The scent of Elara's perfume, mingling with the aroma of new paper and old carpet, filled Adrian’s senses, disrupting his concentration.

“I meant,” Adrian finally uttered, his voice flat, devoid of emotion, “that the reporters' questions targeted the credibility of Eyang’s charity project. I am obligated to protect it.”

Elara snorted. “Oh, so you did it all for the charity project? Not for me? Of course. There's always a strategy behind every action of Adrian Mahesa.” Her tone was laced with sharp sarcasm. “I almost thought… no, never mind.” She turned away, clenching her teeth. The momentary warmth she had felt from Adrian’s defense was now replaced by a familiar bitterness.

“What did you think?” Adrian asked, stepping forward an inch. A small movement, yet it felt like an invader pushing in.

“Nothing,” Elara shot back quickly, looking at him again. “I thought you… just a little… cared about what they said about me. But apparently, I was wrong. It’s all about Mahesa Group’s image, isn't it?”

Adrian clenched his hands at his sides. “Your credibility is closely tied to the project. Damage to your reputation means damage to Eyang’s vision. It is my responsibility to prevent that. It’s as simple as that.” He tried to sound straightforward, but within him, there was a more complicated turmoil. He hated the vulnerability that emanated from Elara's eyes when the questions came, hated how he automatically felt he had to protect her. It wasn’t part of his plan, not part of his cold and analytical self.

“As simple as that?” Elara laughed cynically, her laugh hollow. “Nothing is simple between us, Adrian. Never has been.” She stepped closer, her eyes blazing. “You defended Kencana Mode in public, yet you know very well how you tried to bring it down behind the scenes. The design leak? You suspected me, didn’t you? You think I could be so foolish, so careless, to sell my own ideas?”

Adrian felt a surge of anger. “I never accused you. I was merely investigating, as I would with anyone working on the project. Sabotage, as you yourself said, would harm all of us.”

“Oh, ‘all of us’,” Elara repeated with a mocking tone. “Always ‘us’. Never ‘me’ or ‘you’. That's your problem, Adrian. You hide behind responsibility, behind ‘Eyang’s vision,’ behind ‘Mahesa Group.’ You are never honest about what you feel, even to yourself.”

Elara's question hit home precisely. Adrian felt the grip of the past tighten. That night. The night that should never have happened. The night he forgot all control, all strategy, and allowed himself to drown in Elara's passion. The night that ended in silence, with the wrong words, or perhaps, with no words at all. He had fled that morning, not because he didn't care, but because he was afraid. Afraid of the intensity he felt, afraid of losing the control he had maintained his entire life. He was the heir to Mahesa, he had to be perfect, impeccable. An impulsive relationship with his rival was a disaster.

“I know I made a mistake,” Adrian confessed, his voice heavy, almost inaudible. The admission felt like tearing a part of his soul. “That morning… I was a coward. I didn’t know how to face what had happened.”

Elara looked at him, her anger slightly subsiding, replaced by confusion. “What are you saying?”

“I… I’m sorry,” Adrian continued, each word feeling alien on his tongue. This wasn't the structured Adrian Mahesa. The man was haunted by regret. “I shouldn’t have just left. I shouldn’t have… not left you in uncertainty.”

“Uncertainty?” Elara retorted, pain gripping her voice. “You abandoned me, Adrian. You left me alone to face the consequences. Then you reappear, acting as if I was just… a mistake to be fixed to fulfill your grandfather's will!”

Suddenly, the hall door opened with a soft creak. Mr. Tirtayasa appeared, his expression calm, as if oblivious to the storm of emotions raging between them. Behind him, Baskara and Rina looked worried.

“Adrian, Elara,” Mr. Tirtayasa said, his tone friendly yet firm. “I apologize for interrupting, but there’s an urgent matter. I’ve just received information from the board of directors. It seems Damar hasn't given up. He has filed a new lawsuit, challenging the legitimacy of Eyang Subroto's will, arguing that the charity project is not financially viable and will only harm both companies. He is also demanding that the Foundation's assets be frozen until a court ruling.”

Both Adrian and Elara were shocked. A new lawsuit? Far more serious than a design leak.

“That's impossible,” Adrian said, his jaw clenching. “Eyang's will has been carefully reviewed. There are no legal loopholes.”

“Indeed,” Mr. Tirtayasa nodded. “But Damar knows how to play dirty. He is pointing to the initial project budget which has not been thoroughly revised after the leak incident. He claims the existing budget is unrealistic and the project will collapse, thereby proving Eyang's will is detrimental.” He glanced at both of them. “Most importantly, he specifically requested that both of you, as project leaders, prepare a comprehensive financial and operational presentation, within three days, to convince the board and, if necessary, the court, that the project is not a financial trap.”

Elara felt her heart pound. Three days? And they both had to work together? After everything that had happened? After Adrian had just uttered words that had messed everything up?

“Three days?” Adrian repeated, his gaze shifting from Mr. Tirtayasa to Elara, a grim understanding flickering in his eyes. Personal animosity had to be set aside, at least for now. Damar’s threat was real and urgent.

“Yes,” Mr. Tirtayasa affirmed, his faint smile returning, as if he were enjoying Eyang's game of destiny. “And to ensure there are no conflicts of interest or delays, the board has decided that both of you must work from a neutral location. The Eyang Subroto Foundation has a private villa on the outskirts of the city, secluded and quiet. You will stay and work there for the next three days, together.”

Adrian and Elara's eyes widened. A private villa. Secluded. Together. For three days. A sensation of déjà vu hit them both, but this time, it wasn't about burning passion, but about a threatening danger and the unavoidable demand for cooperation.

“Mr. Tirtayasa, you can't be serious,” Elara finally managed, her voice choked. “We can't…”

“Eyang Subroto believed in your ability to overcome differences for a greater purpose,” Mr. Tirtayasa gently but firmly cut in. “He would be very disappointed if you let his legacy be destroyed by the intrigues of others simply due to personal issues. A test, Elara. And Adrian.” He looked at both of them, making sure the message sank in. “I have already arranged accommodation. A driver will pick you up in an hour. I will ask Baskara and Rina to help gather all the necessary documents for you.”

Adrian saw the expression of despair on Elara's face. And he felt the same, perhaps worse. Trapped with her, in a remote place, for three days, with a past that still haunted them and the future of their companies depending on them. Hell, a prison designed by Eyang Subroto himself. Yet, beneath all the annoyance, a strange thought flickered: would proximity, the pressure, finally force them to confront all that was left unsaid? Or would it destroy them completely?

Elara looked at Adrian, despair and anger mingled in her gaze. She saw him clench his fist, his jaw tense. It was clear Adrian also hated the situation. But what could they do? Eyang's will, now reinforced by Damar's maneuver, had trapped them in a game larger than their personal vendetta. A secluded villa. Three days. Together. It wasn't just about saving the project, it was about saving themselves from each other, or succumbing to the fire that still burned between them.