Once Arga was past the worst of it, the investigation into the company and the foundation kept moving—slowly, the way such things always moved, but forward.Former employees gave their statements one after another. Siska. Ratna. A driver who had once been asked to deliver envelopes he was told not to open. Transactions were traced to find out where the money had gone and who had authorized it. The evidence pointed toward possible misuse of documents and reports that didn't match reality. But the legal conclusions, Dimas reminded everyone, would have to wait for the official process to run its course.Meanwhile, Rendra Wijaya's world began to crack.Business partners stepped back. Two companies suspended their joint ventures pending clarification. The foundation's board announced an internal review of how its social programs had been managed. Rendra issued a statement through his lawyers denying every allegation and insisting the truth would vindicate him. He did not appear in public.

The rain had stopped by the time Arga Pratama arrived at the small rental house in East Jakarta. He stood outside the iron gate for a moment, looking at the modest building that would become his temporary home. It was nothing like the spacious house he had once shared with Nadira, but for the first time in years, he felt that he could breathe without worrying about someone else’s expectations.The caretaker, an elderly woman named Mrs. Sari, led him through a narrow hallway before showing him the room. She explained that the property belonged to a woman named Liu Huan, who was currently away and had asked her to handle the rental arrangements.The room contained a single bed, a wooden wardrobe, a small desk, and a window overlooking the neighboring houses. The furniture was old, but everything was clean and functional.“This room is available for at least six months,” Mrs. Sari explained. “The previous tenant moved out last week, so I haven’t had time to replace the curtains.”“That’s