The following morning, the media wildfire that Richard and Samson had anticipated fully erupted.Precisely at six o’clock, every national television network abruptly preempted their regular programming to broadcast breaking news alerts. Social media platforms experienced an identical surge in traffic, with hashtags like #RoselandScandal, #BaskoroArrested, and #1TrillionEmbezzlement instantly claiming the top trending spots nationwide before rapidly migrating onto global financial feeds.The television screen mounted inside Rose’s newly claimed executive suite displayed a veteran journalist standing outside the Police Headquarters, his expression intensely serious."Viewers, a catastrophic shockwave has just rattled both the domestic and international corporate landscape. Baskoro Praditya, the high-profile tycoon commanding real estate giant Roseland Corp—and the husband of the late heiress Marlina Hutama—has reportedly been apprehended in a dramatic raid by a joint maritime task force

In the evening, after the chaotic execution of the eviction at the primary Hutama estate was finalized and the court bailiffs had placed official seals across several assets, an unfamiliar tranquility finally enveloped the residence. Yet, for Rose, the profound silence of the massive mansion merely summoned back the painful echoes of her past. Every corner of the room seemed to whisper, reminding her of her mother’s weeping and Baskoro’s systematic cruelty.In the expansive living room, a bottle of high-end wine she had retrieved from the cellar was already half-empty. Rose sat directly on the marble floor over a thick plush rug, leaning her back against the sofa. Her black silk-satin nightgown contrasted sharply with her flawless, fair skin.Gulp. Gulp.Rose downed the deep crimson liquid directly from her glass once more. Her eyes, heavy under the influence of alcohol, stared blankly at the ceiling. The intoxicating effects of the wine were beginning to seize her consciousness, flus

The scorching night finally drew to a close, leaving behind a severe, suffocating awkwardness that settled deeply into Samson’s mind.Following that intense, near-fatal slip of control during the embrace, it was an absolute miracle that the final remnants of Samson's restraint managed to pull him back before everything crossed the point of no return. He had tucked Rose beneath her duvet and retreated from the master suite, his breathing still completely fractured.Exiting the main mansion structure, Samson spotted Bejo smoking near the perimeter security post."Hey, Chief," Bejo greeted from his seat.Samson didn't offer a verbal reply. Instead, he abruptly snatched the pack of cigarettes from Bejo's possession, sparking the tip of one with a lighter.Bejo sat in absolute bewilderment at Samson's erratic behavior. To his knowledge, Samson had abandoned tobacco years ago, specifically since the time his late mother had fallen ill."Am I seeing things? You’re smoking again, Chief?" Bejo

Slap!A resounding crack echoed across the courtyard as Rose’s palm connected squarely with Soraya’s right cheek. The sheer force of the blow snapped Soraya’s head violently to the side, instantly splitting the corner of her lips and drawing a trickle of fresh crimson.Rose’s breathing was heavy and ragged, her chest heaving as she struggled to contain the volatile wave of fury surging through her mind. Had Soraya merely insulted her, Rose might have closed her ears. But dragging the name of her late mother into the mud—a gentle, innocent woman whose life had been systematically dismantled by the unbridled greed of Baskoro and Soraya—was an unforgivable transgression."Keep my mother's name out of your filthy mouth, Soraya!" Rose hissed, her voice trembling violently with a scorching wrath. Her eyes flashed with an intense, unyielding hatred that she had meticulously suppressed for over a decade. "You possess absolutely no right to utter her name with those deceitful, vile lips!"Sora

The roar of Samson’s SUV engine shattered the quiet of the elite residential neighborhood before the vehicle ground to a violent halt directly in front of the towering iron gates of Clara’s ancestral estate. The majestic, classical European-style mansion stood firm, yet the surrounding atmosphere felt chillingly dead and deserted.Before Samson could even fully cut the engine, three heavily built security guards clad in black tactical uniforms surged out of the guardhouse. They moved rapidly, forming a defensive barricade in front of the locked iron gates, their hands resting ominously near their tactical batons."Step out of the vehicle! This is private property!" one of the security team leaders barked loudly, evaluating Samson’s SUV with a heavily suspicious gaze.Samson growled low in his throat. The raw aura of his street-enforcer past uncoiled completely. He threw the door open and bounded out, standing at his full, intimidating height while radiating a dense, suffocating wave o