Chapter 25: Chapter 25

A man walked confidently, surrounded by bowed heads as he passed rows of men dressed in all-black suits, including himself. He wore a black blazer, complete with a cane as his walking aid, and, of course, a cigar always faithfully by his side.

Sitting with a rather dramatic gesture, he filled the spacious but dimly lit room with his intimidating presence. Smoke billowed from behind the cigar he had just taken a puff from. He closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the nicotine calming him. In that moment, he calculated what his men would carry out today.

There could be no room for mistakes.

He had no desire to fail again.

Nor did he want to find himself in a situation where he had to perform another daring act to breathe the air of freedom.

Everything had to be obliterated without mercy, especially when he glanced down at his feet, which would forever be bound in chains until he met his Maker. The embers of vengeance inside him flared up again.

"Make sure she's brought here. Alive or dead!" The voice was terrifying, dripping with palpable animosity and anger. His piercing eyes never lowered their vigilance; they were always alert. Even the subordinates standing around his desk couldn't meet his gaze.

Fear.

That's what they felt. The dominance of the man in the black suit was palpable. Smoke once again filled the room as he exhaled the remains of his cigar.

"Don't fail me this time."

The words were laden with threatening connotations. Whether their plan today succeeded or not, the price remained the same. If they succeeded, they would witness the death of someone who should have already had her name etched on a gravestone. Or... if they failed, each of them would be replaced, becoming the new targets themselves.

The choice was laid out before them, wasn't it?

"Alright, Sir." One of the black-clad individuals, the most trusted one, dared to speak up. One by one, the group left the room, leaving the man still seated on his throne. They armed themselves with the conviction of their imminent success.

The anger that had roared from him while he sat on his throne, years ago, still haunted them. Some of their comrades were executed on the spot due to their failures. Yet at that time, they were so close... yes, just a little more, they could have succeeded if only...

The dimly lit room still exuded a suffocating aura. The smoke, slowly vanishing and resurfacing with each puff from the ever-loyal cigar, added to the atmosphere.

"Alan," he called to the man who had not moved from his spot since earlier. Having two trusted aides was efficient, one serving as the executor, and the other as an advisor. He still had concerns that the plan might fail.

"Yes, sir."

"Do you think Ted can pull this off, Alan?"

The man named Alan paused for a moment, thinking and calculating the consequences of the carefully laid plan that had been in the making for a month. They had checked the location multiple times. Alan's calculation led him to believe that this time they couldn't possibly fail. They must not fail. The opportunity was wide open now, and there couldn't be any mistakes like before.

"He will succeed."

The man exhaled another puff of smoke. "Good." He just had to wait. Glancing at his watch, there were still three hours before the chaos began, and he could finally get what he had been waiting for.

"Should we stay here? The board meeting starts in an hour."

He weighed the options before deciding to leave his comfort. "Let's attend the meeting. I'm tired of hearing useless chattering from the workers." He walked past Alan, who followed at a distance.

"Prepare the car," he said through the small device always attached to his ear. Without waiting for a response, he disconnected the communication. When they left the gathering place, a black Range Rover was waiting not far from the gate. The passenger door was swiftly opened, and the cigar-smoking man got in. Alan followed suit, and they sped away.

They arrogantly cut through the streets of New York City, just like the man himself. Still holding his cigar and puffing away, ignoring his surroundings. He grunted softly when the car stopped at a red light. A young beggar approached their window.

From the outside, it was a display of arrogance, with the gleaming black car. But from inside, the cigar-smoking man and his assistant could clearly see the dirty and unkempt faces approaching them.

"Give them some money, Alan. Get rid of the bad luck. Today, we will commit another act of cruelty," he casually ordered. However, Alan knew better than to be unsettled by the dark aura exuded by this middle-aged man. It was so intense that he might have been killed if he weren't used to being close to him.

Quickly, Alan took out a few red bills and handed them to the two approaching figures. Their eyes widened suddenly, and they muttered numerous thank-you, which were only responded to with a small nod from the man and Alan.

The black car continued its graceful journey to where they should be, the Energy Building.

***

"Vin, is it secured?" Sebastian asked while checking his appearance. This morning, he had to go to the office before attending a seminar as a guest speaker. Known as one of the successful business figures in Indonesia, Sebastian sometimes, reluctantly, accepted invitations to speak at seminars. The only reason he agreed to attend today's seminar was that the invitation came from Fathia's university, as conveyed by Vino.

"It's all taken care of, sir. Tony's people are already stationed around the area," Vino replied.

Sebastian nodded, even though he knew Vino wouldn't have known. "Stay vigilant," he added.

He was still in his room, admiring himself in his shirt and tie, and reaching for the jacket that was hanging nearby. Feeling ready, Sebastian left the room, but to his surprise, Clara was already standing in front of his bedroom door.

"What do you want?" he asked.

"Wow, it's still early, and you already look like you're going to war," Clara quipped sarcastically. "Sometimes, greet me with a smile, Sebastian."

He shook his head briefly and continued walking towards the kitchen. Last night, she promised to make him breakfast, and he would demand it this time. Even if she could only serve strawberry jam on toast or with peanuts, Sebastian didn't mind.

He still remembered how pale and tense she looked when he caught her having an absurd conversation with her friend – presumably – last night. Fathia apologized multiple times and promised not to gossip about him again.

Sebastian chose not to respond to any of Fathia's words. She was too easy to deceive and easily misled in his eyes. He chose to busy himself in the kitchen, preparing dinner, while she sat on one of the dining table chairs. From the corner of his eye, Sebastian could see that Fathia was sitting agitatedly. Perhaps a mix of embarrassment and guilt made her cheeks even redder.

She didn't speak or whine anymore, indeed.

"Are you planning to work while studying?" Sebastian finally spoke up.

Fathia immediately lowered her head, no longer daring to look at Sebastian in the kitchen. Although Fathia felt a little lucky to see Sebastian back in the kitchen after so long.

"Answer, Fathia."

All Fathia could do was nod slightly, too afraid to utter a word.

"Why work?"