Chapter 22

Chapter 22
The studio spotlights scorched her eyes, blurring the contours of dozens of unfamiliar faces before Elara into hazy shadows. The air in the Eyang Subroto Foundation Conference Hall felt thick with anticipation, the scent of expensive perfume mingling with old carpet, and the incessant whirring of camera lenses spying. Elara's throat felt dry, not just from the cool room temperature, but also from the adrenaline coursing through her veins. Beside her, on a magnificent stage that felt like a gladiator arena, Adrian Mahesa stood tall, commanding all attention with his aura of cool elegance. His perfectly tailored black suit exuded unyielding authority, a stark contrast to the modern ethnic gown of her own design that she wore—a bold statement of her vision, and a refusal to hide.

“Are you alright?” Rina whispered from the front row, her eyes filled with genuine concern.

Elara forced a faint smile. “As well as I can be in this public hell.”

Adrian, somehow, heard the murmur. He glanced over, his sharp gaze landing on Elara, an unreadable turbulence flashing across them before his mask fell back into place. To Elara, every inch of Adrian was her antithesis—structured, controlled, calculating. A shadow of memory flashed, the night his control had crumbled, the night a torrent of passion had shattered all masks. The memory sliced through her, bringing back a bitter sense of betrayal. How could she stand beside him, pretending to be an ally, when her heart was still battered by a storm?

Adrian felt a strange wave of heat as his gaze brushed against Elara. The woman wore a striking gown, a bold fusion of traditional motifs with a contemporary silhouette—truly Elara. He hated chaos, and Elara had always been the most intriguing manifestation of chaos. Yet, amidst the camera flashes and reporters' insistent demands, Adrian also saw a momentary fragility in Elara’s eyes, a vulnerability that reminded him of the soft sighs she'd made beneath his touch. A memory he desperately wanted to bury deep, but which always found its way back to the surface. He straightened, shaking off the all-night shadows that haunted him. Today, he had to be Adrian Mahesa, the unshakeable CEO, protector of Eyang's legacy.

Mr. Tirtayasa, with a faint smile that could only be interpreted as amusement, stepped to the podium. “Good morning, journalists and media colleagues,” his calm yet authoritative voice broke the tension. “We are gathered today to clarify the current situation surrounding the Eyang Subroto Foundation Charity Project, an initiative of utmost importance to all of us.”

Adrian stepped forward after Mr. Tirtayasa's signal. The microphone picked up his deep voice. “Mahesa Group and Kencana Mode stand together here today to reiterate our commitment to Eyang Subroto's vision. This project is not just about fashion; it’s about empowering communities and preserving culture. Any attempt to disrupt this noble goal will not be tolerated.” His eyes swept across the rows of reporters, pausing briefly on Elara, as if to confirm the message was not just for the public.

Elara took her turn next. There was a brief pause before she began to speak, her eyes searching for Rina in the crowd, seeking strength. “Kencana Mode was founded on the principles of innovation and integrity,” Elara began, her voice steady, despite a slight tremor in her clenched hands. “We deeply regret the recent design leak incident. This occurrence was the result of an act of sabotage by an irresponsible third party, seeking to sow discord and exploit us for personal gain.” She saw Adrian nod faintly, an unspoken acknowledgment of the truth of her words. There was a slight relief, knowing she wasn't alone in facing Damar's maliciousness.

“Can you explain who this ‘third party’ is?” A young reporter aggressively raised his hand.

Adrian took back the microphone. “Details of the investigation are still ongoing. What is clear is that the individual in question had motives to derail this charity project and damage the reputation of both companies.” He paused, his gaze cold. “We guarantee that Mahesa Group will take firm action against any individual who attempts to tarnish the good name of Eyang Subroto and his legacy.”

Another journalist interrupted. “Some media reports mention that the leak incident triggered tension between Mahesa Group and Kencana Mode. Is there truly a cold war behind the scenes?”

Elara felt all eyes on her. She forced a smile, which felt more like a grimace. “As Adrian mentioned, there are parties attempting to create conflict. We both share the same vision for Eyang's charity project. Creative differences are common in our industry, but that doesn't mean we cannot unite for a greater purpose.” The words felt hollow on her tongue, contradicting the turmoil in her heart.

“Mr. Adrian, Ms. Elara,” a senior female reporter's voice cut in, sharp and piercing. “The public knows there’s a long history of rivalry between the Mahesa and Kencana families. Furthermore, there are circulating rumors about your personal relationship in the past. Can you assure us that this current collaboration is purely professional, and not just a charade to cover internal issues?”

The room fell silent, breaths seemed held. Adrian and Elara’s eyes met. A brief flash of that night, of unspoken promises, of warmth that had turned to piercing cold. Elara felt her cheeks flush, but she refused to look away. Adrian, on the other hand, appeared like a statue. No frown, no change in expression. Only the slight clenching of his jaw indicated tension.

Adrian answered first, his voice calm, controlled. “Business history is a history of dynamics. What is most important right now is the future. Our commitment to the Eyang Subroto Charity Project is our top priority. All decisions we make, including this current collaboration, are purely based on business strategy and our responsibility to continue that vision.” He didn't even glance at Elara as he spoke those words.

Elara listened, each of Adrian's words felt like a cold blow. Top priority. Business strategy. No room for emotions. As usual. But she wouldn't let Adrian dominate the narrative alone. She stepped closer to the microphone.

“I agree with Adrian,” Elara said, her voice firm, her gaze piercing Adrian. “Of course there is a past, there is rivalry, and there are clear differences in our approaches. Mahesa Group is known for its classic designs, an undeniable precision. Kencana Mode is known for its bold innovation and passion.” She paused. “However, Eyang Subroto, whose wisdom far surpassed fleeting differences, saw the potential in our collaboration. He knew that the wealth of ideas and heritage we possess, if united, would create something far greater than mere competition. This collaboration is proof of Eyang’s trust in us, and we are both determined to prove that trust was not in vain.”

Adrian felt a sharp sting from Elara's words. "Fleeting differences." He knew Elara was referring to more than just design. He also knew that the woman was deliberately emphasizing "Eyang's trust" to corner him, reminding him that Adrian too was bound by the will. He admired Elara's courage, but at the same time, a cold anger burned in his chest. The woman always knew how to provoke him.

Questions kept flowing, increasingly personal, increasingly sharp. The journalists tried to probe every crack in their facade, seeking an admission of conflict or, worse, confirmation of unresolved past rumors. Baskara and Rina exchanged glances from the front row, anxious yet also a little proud to see the two young CEOs facing the storm together, each in their own way.

“Can Ms. Elara confirm the rumor that Adrian Mahesa was personally responsible for your past heartbreak, which became the trigger for the fierce rivalry between you and Mahesa Group?” a journalist asked, her voice loud in the room.

Adrian felt the muscles in his jaw tense. He was about to interrupt, about to protect her from such an embarrassing question, but Elara was already a step ahead of him.

Elara turned to the reporter, a cynical smile touching her lips. “I believe everyone has a past that shapes who they are today. Heartbreak, rivalry, and hardship—all are part of the journey. Kencana Mode was founded not out of heartbreak, but out of a strong vision and a desire to create beauty. Every challenge, including personal ones, only fuels my ambition.” Elara looked into Adrian’s eyes, a clear message radiating from her fiery gaze: I won't be broken by you, Adrian.

Adrian held his breath. Elara's words were a harsh slap, in public, yet at the same time, an unexpected admission of his influence. He saw the anger in Elara’s eyes, but also a burning determination—a determination he knew well, for he saw it every time he looked in a mirror. The woman was not just strong; she was formidable. And she shattered every wall Adrian had so carefully built.

Mr. Tirtayasa, seeing the tension reach its peak, skillfully intervened. “Alright, I think that’s enough personal questions. Let's refocus on the noble purpose of this charity project.”

However, a persistent reporter did not give up. “Even though you both claim to be united, we clearly see the tension between you. Does this mean there’s a possibility that Eyang’s charity project will again face obstacles due to your disagreements? And, Mr. Adrian, do you feel that Ms. Elara is truly ready to lead such a large project, given her background which focuses more on artistic design than strict corporate management?”

The question hit Elara like a sledgehammer, not only because it undermined her abilities, but also because it implied Adrian might also doubt her. She opened her mouth, ready to retort, but Adrian spoke first.

“Ms. Elara Kencana has proven herself to be a visionary and competent leader through Kencana Mode,” Adrian said, his voice louder than before. There was an unmistakable firm tone, an unexpected defense. “Eyang Subroto’s vision encompasses both spectrums—corporate precision and artistic innovation. Kencana Mode’s strength in bold design is an invaluable asset to this charity project. We see no obstacles, but rather a synergy that will benefit all parties.”

Elara froze, her gaze fixed on Adrian. That defense. His words, so unexpected, so… powerful. What was behind it? Was he just maintaining a public image, or was there a genuine acknowledgment in his tone? Confusion washed over her, mingled with sparks of long-buried emotions. She felt like a wall between them had crumbled for a moment, revealing something deeper.

Adrian, after that statement, gave no opportunity for further questions. He ended the press conference briefly, firmly, and coolly. “Thank you for your presence. We both will ensure that the Eyang Subroto charity project proceeds as planned and achieves its goals.”

As the spotlights dimmed and the crowd began to disperse, leaving behind a hum of conversations and lingering camera clicks, Elara and Adrian stood there, in the middle of a stage that now felt so empty. Their gazes met again, this time without the filter of cameras or public pressure. In his eyes, Elara saw something she didn't recognize—a fleeting vulnerability, an unspoken question. And Adrian, in Elara’s eyes, saw a mixture of confusion, anger, and a glimmer of… something else, something familiar, something that had once burned between them on an unforgettable night.

“What did you mean by that?” Elara asked, her voice low, almost a whisper. The question hung in the air, not just about Adrian's defense earlier, but about all that remained unsaid between them. Adrian only looked at her, his jaw clenching again, his mask perfectly back in place. The slowly emptying conference hall now bore silent witness to a tension more personal, more dangerous, and unavoidable.