Behind the Soundproof Door

“Al, did you hear that? Mr. Arga called you upstairs!” Sinta whispered, nudging Alya’s arm firmly.

The atmosphere in the main hall suddenly erupted into a buzz of whispers as hundreds of employees stared directly at Alya. She felt as though every last bit of oxygen around her had vanished.

Her eyes remained locked on the tall figure of Arga Mahendra, who was now stepping down from the podium with calm strides that somehow radiated overwhelming authority.

I’m screwed... He really is the big boss around here, Alya screamed inwardly, crumpling the document folder against her chest.

“I—I heard you, Sin,” Alya replied, her voice trembling with panic.

“What did you do to get singled out on his very first day?” Sinta asked again, her eyes filled with curiosity.

“Nothing. I don’t know either,” Alya lied, quickly turning away to avoid the scrutinizing looks from her colleagues.

All the way to the employee elevator, Alya’s legs felt like jelly.

The irrational part of her mind that had a weakness for handsome, commanding men tried to rebel, reminding her how Arga’s tight white shirt had perfectly outlined his broad chest that night.

But the reality that he was the highest authority at PT Rasa Nusantara Food immediately brought Alya back to her senses.

Get a grip, Alya! He’s your boss! If he tells HR about what happened that night, your career is over! Alya lamented inwardly as she impatiently pressed the elevator button.

The elevator ascended to the top floor, where the CEO’s office was located.

When the doors chimed open, Alya was greeted by a quiet hallway lined with luxurious teak wood walls. At the end of the corridor, a middle-aged female secretary gave her a formal smile.

“Ms. Alya Paramita from R&D, correct? Please go right in. Mr. Arga is waiting for you,” the secretary said as she opened the thick teak door.

“Thank you, Ma’am,” Alya replied briefly.

Alya stepped into the spacious office, which offered a direct view of Jakarta’s towering skyscrapers.

At the center of the room, Arga sat behind his black marble desk, focused on reading several sheets of paper. The moment he heard the door close, he looked up, his hawk-like eyes locking directly onto Alya’s.

“Sit,” Arga ordered in a deep, flat voice that left no room for argument.

Alya walked slowly to the leather chair in front of Arga’s large desk. She tried to keep as much distance between them as possible, placing her document folder on the desk with slightly trembling hands.

“Here is the research report on the latest instant noodle seasoning variant you requested, Mr. Arga,” Alya said, trying to sound as professional as possible to preserve what little dignity she had left.

Arga did not touch the folder.

Instead, he leaned back in his chair, folded his arms across his chest, and stared at Alya with a gaze that made the room feel unbearably cold.

“Alya Paramita. An interesting name,” Arga said slowly, emphasizing her full name in a way that sent a shiver down Alya’s spine. “So this is how you greet the man who saved you from the hotel corridor floor three days ago?”

Alya swallowed with difficulty.

“I... I’m very grateful for your help that night, Mr. Arga. And I apologize for causing you trouble because of... because I was drunk.”

“Just trouble?” Arga raised an eyebrow, a faint smile filled with hidden meaning appearing at the corner of his lips. “You crashed into me, cried on my shirt, and then passed out in my room. Do you really think that was merely an inconvenience?”

Alya’s face immediately burned with overwhelming embarrassment.

Her inner monologue went wild again, imagining what Arga would think if he knew that, in her head, she had briefly admired his physique when she woke up that morning.

Oh God, I hope he doesn’t find out that I misunderstood the situation and thought we had...

“I’m truly sorry, Mr. Arga. I promise something this embarrassing will never happen again,” Alya said firmly, looking directly at him to make it clear that she did not want to be seen as a cheap employee.

“As for my clothes being replaced with a bathrobe... I know you asked a female hotel employee to handle it. Thank you for respecting my boundaries.”

Arga fell silent for a moment, studying Alya with an unreadable gaze.

“I always maintain professional boundaries, Alya. I don’t have time to take advantage of a woman who is unconscious.”

A huge sense of relief washed over Alya.

So the cold CEO’s integrity was genuine after all, rather than just a façade used by some lecherous man who took advantage of vulnerable situations.

“Then... about my grandmother’s one-hundred-and-fifty-million-rupiah surgery bill that was suddenly paid in full...” Alya finally worked up the courage to ask, leaning forward slightly in her chair. “The hospital said the money came through the company’s emergency assistance fund on the order of senior management. Was that... your decision, Mr. Arga?”

Arga straightened in his chair and casually picked up the expensive pen lying on his desk.

“PT Rasa Nusantara Food always highly rewards research staff whose work makes a product a success in the market. You earned it.”

“But that amount is far too large for an ordinary staff member like me, sir,” Alya pressed, sensing a hidden trap behind such sudden generosity. “I know our company policy. We never provide an allowance that large without committee approval. Please be honest with me. Is there a price I have to pay for that money?”

Arga placed the pen back on the desk with a soft but deliberate tap.

He leaned forward, narrowing the distance between them across the black marble desk.

“One hundred and fifty million rupiahs certainly wasn’t a free gift, Alya,” Arga replied, his voice turning intensely serious and oppressive. “It’s a long-term investment to secure your talents for this company. I know you possess your family’s secret recipe book, one that has never been patented.”

Alya’s heart suddenly began pounding twice as fast.

Does he mean Grandma’s recipe book? How could he know about Grandma’s ancient family recipe book?!

“What exactly do you mean, sir?” Alya asked, her voice rising as she began to feel threatened.

“My plan is very simple.” Arga leaned back again, his expression calm yet commanding. “Hand over the authentic flavor formula from your family recipe for our next premium project. If you refuse, I can easily have the emergency assistance funds withdrawn from the hospital this afternoon. The choice is yours, Little Employee.”

Alya clenched her fists tightly beneath the desk.

She realized that the friendly smile of the commanding CEO sitting before her had now transformed into the cruelest corporate legal trap imaginable—one that was ready to seize the single most precious possession her family had left.