Chapter 13

The atmosphere inside the grand Nasution residence was no longer as warm as it once had been. Where luxury had once been the oxygen of its inhabitants, the air now felt suffocating—thick with the smell of alcohol, unpaid bills, and clashing shouts.

In the study that had once symbolized power, Dewangga sat with his head lowered. On his expensive teak desk were no longer profit reports, but stacks of warning letters from banks and notices of frozen assets. Since Serena withdrew all the capital from Zea Production and won the initial settlement of their asset division lawsuit, Dewangga’s business empire had begun to crumble like a sandcastle hit by waves.

“What is this now, Dewangga?!” Emely snapped as she stormed in, her face looking older and duller than ever. She threw a branded shopping bag onto the desk. “My credit card was declined at the boutique! Do you know how humiliating that was in front of my friends?”

Dewangga lifted his weary face, his eyes red from lack of sleep. “Stop that pointless shopping, Mother! The company is on the verge of bankruptcy! Serena took nearly sixty percent of our liquidity. We need to cut back!”

“Cut back?!” Emely shrieked. “I am your mother! You promised my life would remain dignified after you drove that cursed woman away! And now look—you're even behind on paying the electricity for this house!”

“If you hadn’t driven her out so cruelly, maybe Serena would have been willing to negotiate her assets!” Dewangga roared. “This is your fault too!”

Their argument was cut short when Vanes entered sluggishly. She wore an expensive silk pajama set, her hair messy, and her bare face revealed her true lazy nature. Ever since she found comfort in that house, she had stopped pretending to be the gentle, caring woman she once acted to be.

“Dewangga, my head hurts from all this yelling,” Vanes muttered as she grabbed a bottle of mineral water from the table. “And oh, I need five hundred million. I already ordered jewelry for our baby, and they need the payment today.”

Dewangga let out a bitter laugh, one that sounded painfully hollow. “Five hundred million? Vanes, have you lost your mind? We’re drowning, and you’re still thinking about jewelry?”

Vanes placed her hands on her hips. What once seemed like a charming spoiled attitude now looked utterly repulsive to Dewangga. “You’re the one who promised me this luxury! I’m carrying your child, Dewangga! Do you want your precious son to be born to a mother who lacks everything?”

Dewangga stared at her with disgust. Suddenly, Serena came to his mind. Serena who used to wake up the earliest, Serena who took care of everything in the house without ever complaining about money, Serena who always had smart solutions when his business was struggling. At his lowest point, Dewangga finally realized that for seven years, Serena had not just been a wife—she had been the pillar of his life, one he had destroyed with his own foolishness.

The night grew deeper as Dewangga drove unsteadily through the city. A half-empty bottle of whiskey lay on the passenger seat. In his drunken state, his shattered ego led him to a place he should have avoided: the luxury apartment in the city center where Serena lived.

He felt longing—longing for warmth, for comfort, for the sense of ownership he once had over Serena. He wanted to convince himself that she was still his, that all of this was just a prolonged tantrum.

Dewangga managed to pass through the lobby with some commotion and repeatedly pressed Serena’s doorbell aggressively.

“Serena! Open the door! I know you’re inside!” he shouted, his voice hoarse and slurred.

The door opened. But it wasn’t Serena who greeted him.

Haris Nasution stood at the doorway. He wore a casual shirt, yet still carried an undeniable authority. Behind him, the apartment radiated warmth—soft lighting, the scent of freshly baked cake, and Clarisa’s faint laughter coming from the living room.

“You?” Dewangga tried to step inside, but Haris stopped him with one firm hand against his chest.

“You’re not invited here, Dewangga,” Haris said calmly, though his tone carried a sharp threat.

“Move! I want to talk to my wife!” Dewangga slurred, trying to shake off Haris’s grip.

At that moment, Serena appeared behind Haris. She wore a soft cardigan, holding Clarisa, who looked sleepy in her arms. The moment Clarisa saw her father in his drunken, disheveled state, she clung tightly to Serena’s neck, her face filled with fear.

“Daddy is bad… Mom, tell him to go away,” Clarisa whispered softly.

The sight struck Dewangga like a blade piercing his heart. There, right before him, was a picture of a complete family—something that should have been his. Haris stood there protecting Serena and Clarisa as if they were his entire world, while Dewangga remained outside, drenched in cold sweat and the stench of alcohol, reduced to the most hated stranger.

“Serena… come home,” Dewangga murmured, tears streaming down his worn face. “Vanes… she’s not like you. Mother too… I need you, Serena.”

Serena looked at him with a gaze filled with disgust and cold pity. “Dewangga, you don’t need me. You just need a servant and a source of money. And unfortunately, I’ve retired from that role.”

She turned to Haris. “Haris, please ask security to take him away. Clarisa is getting scared.”

Haris nodded and looked straight into Dewangga’s eyes. “You heard her. You are this child’s trauma, Dewangga. If you have even a shred of humanity left, leave—and never show that disgusting face of yours in front of them again.”

Building security arrived and dragged Dewangga away from the door. He struggled, shouting Serena’s name, but the door shut firmly with a final click.

He collapsed onto the cold corridor floor. From behind that closed door, he no longer heard shouting or insults like those in his mother’s house. Instead, he heard Haris gently comforting Clarisa and Serena’s soft murmurs.

Dewangga sobbed uncontrollably on the floor. He had lost everything—not because Serena was cruel, but because he had been too blind to recognize the diamond he had, choosing instead to embrace the sharp stones now destroying his life.

That night, the cracks within the grand Nasution household were no longer just fractures—they had become total collapse. And as Dewangga was escorted out of the building, he knew that the life script he had written with Vanes and his mother was nothing more than a revolting tragedy that would never have a happy ending.

Meanwhile, inside the apartment, Serena laid Clarisa gently on her bed. She turned to Haris, who stood at the doorway.

“Thank you for being here, Haris,” Serena said sincerely.

Haris smiled, stepping closer and placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “I’ll always be here, Serena—as long as you allow me to protect this ‘stage’ with you.”

Serena nodded softly. The real performance was about to begin, and she could hardly wait to watch Dewangga witness The Betrayal from behind the bars of poverty and regret.