6: Colliding Worlds

The leather-bound notebook felt cold in Galen’s hand, a heavy weight that seemed to pull him deeper into the damp grass. He looked up, but the man named Yudha had already been swallowed by the darkness of the clinic’s gardens. The cherry-scented vapor of his cigarette was the only thing that remained, a sickly sweet ghost in the night air.

Galen didn’t open the notebook. Not yet. His eyes were fixed on the glass window of Room 402, where the light had just been extinguished.

"Bagas, are you still there?" Galen whispered into his headset, his voice tight.

"Yeah. I heard most of that. Who was that guy? Yudha? The name doesn't show up on any official Danuarta payrolls."

"He’s a ghost, Bagas. That’s what he said. I’m going in."

"Galen, wait! The security—"

"I don't care about the security. Keep the line open."

Galen didn't take the service entrance. He walked straight toward the side door of the patient wing, his mind a chaotic storm of betrayal and confusion. He reached the door just as a man in a rumpled hoodie stepped out to light a cigarette. Galen caught the heavy door before it clicked shut, slipping inside the sterile, silent hallway.

He didn't have to search long. A man was leaning against the wall outside Room 402, his head in his hands. He looked nothing like Haris Danuarta. He was thinner, younger, with a mess of dark hair and a jacket that looked like it had seen better decades.

Galen marched down the hall, his shoes squeaking against the polished linoleum. The man looked up, his eyes widening in alarm.

"Who the hell are you?" the man asked, straightening up.

"I’m the man who’s about to put you through that wall if you don't tell me what you’re doing outside my wife’s room," Galen growled, stopping inches from his face.

The man didn't flinch. Instead, a look of realization washed over his tired features, followed by a bitter, humorless laugh. "Oh. You’re him. You’re the Great Galen Prakoso."

"I asked you a question."

"Relax, 'Mas' Galen. I’m not the one you should be fighting."

"Why did you call me that?"

"Because technically, we’re family. Sort of. Though I doubt Nurin ever mentioned me." The man held out a hand, which Galen ignored. "I’m Mikhail. Nurin’s brother."

Galen froze. The rage that had been fueling him for the last forty-eight hours suddenly lacked an engine. "Brother? Nurin doesn't have a brother. She’s an only child. Her parents died in a car accident ten years ago."

"That’s the official version," Mikhail said, leaning back against the wall. "The version she tells people so they don't look too closely at the mess our father left behind. I’m the 'accident' that didn't die, Galen. I’m the one who stayed in the shadows while she went out and married a king."

"I don't believe you."

"Check the notebook Yudha gave you. It’s all in there. The birth certificates, the debt ledgers, the reason I’m rotting in this five-star asylum instead of a state prison."

"What debt?" Galen asked, his voice dropping.

"Our father wasn't just a failed businessman, Galen. He was a gambler. And he didn't just gamble with money. He gambled with people’s lives. He owed Haris Danuarta’s father more than this entire clinic is worth."

"Haris... why is Haris involved in this?"

"Because Haris doesn't forget a debt. Especially one with interest. He’s been using me as a leash for years. If Nurin doesn't pay, I go to a place much worse than this. Or I just... disappear. Haris is a vulture, man. He’s been bleeding her dry for years."

"She’s been paying him? With my money?"

Mikhail looked at him with something like pity. "She’s been trying to protect you. She knew if you found out, you’d try to fight Haris, and Haris has enough dirt on the Prakoso family history to bury your firm ten times over. She’s been liquidating her own assets, her inheritance, everything she could hide."

Galen felt the floor tilt. "The offshore account. The silver suitcase."

"She’s planning to leave, Galen. Not because she doesn't love you. Because Haris told her the only way to clear the final balance was to walk away from you and give him the SCBD project design secrets. He wants to gut your company from the inside, and he’s using her as the knife."

"I would have helped her," Galen whispered, his heart breaking. "I would have paid every cent."

"She knew you would. That’s why she didn't tell you. She didn't want to be your debt, Galen. She wanted to be your wife. But she’s drowning."

The door to Room 402 opened with a soft click. Nurin stepped out, her face pale and drawn. She stopped dead when she saw Galen. The bouquet of lilies she had been holding was gone, likely left on a bedside table inside.

"Galen?" she breathed, her voice trembling.

"Hey, Sis," Mikhail said softly. "The secret’s out. The King found the dungeon."

Nurin’s gaze darted between the two men, her eyes filling with tears. "Galen, I... I can explain."

"I’m sure you can," Galen said, his voice dangerously low. "Mikhail, give us the room."

Mikhail nodded, casting a final, lingering look at his sister before disappearing down the hallway toward the elevators.

Galen stepped closer to Nurin, pinning her against the closed door of the room. The clinical scent of the hallway—bleach and stale air—felt suffocating.

"Why, Nurin?" he asked. "Why him? Why Haris?"

"He didn't give me a choice!" she cried, her voice cracking. "He came to me a year ago. He showed me the papers. He showed me what Mikhail had done... what our father had done. It wasn't just money, Galen. It was fraud. If it came out, Mikhail would be in prison for life, and your reputation would be destroyed by association."

"So you decided to destroy our marriage instead?"

"I was trying to save you! I was trying to keep his hands off Prakoso Development!"

"By stealing from the firm? By lying to my face every morning?"

"I haven't stolen a dime of your personal money, Galen! Every cent I sent to that account was mine. From my firm, from my savings."

"And the suitcase? The passport?"

Nurin looked down, a single tear tracing a path through her makeup. "Haris said if I didn't leave the country by Friday, he’d release the files. He wants you alone, Galen. He wants you vulnerable so he can take the Menteng project. I thought if I vanished, if I took the blame for everything, he’d leave you alone."

Galen grabbed her shoulders, his grip firm but not painful. "You think I care about the project? You think I care about the firm? I care about you!"

"Then let me go," she whispered. "Please. It’s too much. The debt is too big."

"How much, Nurin? How much does he want to walk away?"

"It doesn't matter. You can't pay it."

"Tell me the number."

Nurin hesitated, her breath hitching. "Two hundred billion. And the blueprints for the SCBD security grid."

Galen went still. The number was astronomical, even for him, but it was the second part that sent a chill down his spine. "The security grid? Why would he want the grid?"

"I don't know! He just said it was part of the 'return.' Galen, please, just go home. Forget you saw me here. Forget about Mikhail."

"I can't do that. I’m not letting you go to him."

"I’m not going to him! I’m just going... away."

Galen looked into her eyes, searching for the truth. He saw the fear, the exhaustion, and the desperate love that had driven her to this. But beneath it all, he felt a flicker of something else. A dissonance.

"Two hundred billion," Galen repeated. "That’s what you’ve been paying off?"

"Yes. In installments. I’ve almost cleared half of it."

Galen let go of her shoulders and stepped back. He looked at the notebook Yudha had given him, still clutched in his hand. He thought about the offshore transfer he had seen on the balcony. He thought about the way Haris had looked at her in the lobby—not like a creditor, but like a partner.

"You’re lying," Galen said softly.

Nurin’s face went even paler. "What? Galen, I just told you everything—"

"No. You told me a story that explains the suitcase and the brother. But the math doesn't add up, Nurin. I know your firm’s margins. I know what you’ve been liquidating. You haven't paid off a hundred billion in a year. It’s impossible."

"I had help—"

"From who? Haris?" Galen’s voice rose, echoing in the empty hallway. "Is that the real deal? You’re not paying him back. You’re helping him move money, aren't you? This 'debt' is just a cover for something much bigger."

"Galen, stop it! You don't know what you’re talking about!"