Lahat ng Kabanata ng A Contract With The Devil in a Suit: Kabanata 1 - Kabanata 10

Ezra couldn’t sleep that night. It wasn't because of the lingering rain that occasionally rattled their zinc roof, nor was it because of the old fan in the corner of the room that kept creaking rhythmically as if it were about to fall apart. It was because of the three short lines of text still staring back at him from his cracked phone screen. I can solve all your problems. Hotel Aruna. Suite 2701. Come if you want to remain a student. Even as the clock ticked past 2:00 AM, Ezra remained wide awake, staring blankly at the moldy ceiling. His logic was spinning out of control, trying to find a rational explanation for this mysterious threat. But the more he racked his brain, the more bizarre and impossible it all seemed. Who was behind that number? How could they know the exact amount of his tuition debt? What was their true motive? Was this a new kind of scam? Blackmail? Or... something far worse and more dangerous? Ezra tossed and turned anxiously. Through the thin bedroom wall

Ezra didn’t remember how he made it home that night. The black business card with the gold ink in his trousers pocket felt as heavy as a block of metal, pressing relentlessly against his thigh and his conscience. On the dining table, illuminated only by a dim five-watt bulb, the final warning letter from the university lay in silent surrender. Fifty million rupiah per month. The figure spun in his head like a broken carousel. It was an amount large enough to clear his entire tuition debt in an instant, pay for Nino’s medications without needing installments, and buy his mother a decent new wallet. But the price he had to pay was no joke: his freedom, his privacy, and perhaps... his dignity. At 11:00 PM, after spending the entire day trapped in an agonizing dilemma at campus and work, Ezra finally pulled out the card. His fingers trembled violently as he typed the numbers into his cracked phone. He sent just one short, direct message: I agree. The reply from the unknown number came

Ezra quickly tugged his collar upward, cutting off Raka’s gaze with a panicked motion that only made him look incredibly suspicious. "It's nothing. Just... a bug bite from when I was sleeping," Ezra stammered, his voice sounding raspy and strained to his own ears. Raka was no fool. He narrowed his eyes, examining Ezra from head to toe with a deep frown. "A bug bite that color? And since when do you have the money to buy an expensive branded flannel shirt like the one you're wearing, Zra? Yesterday your phone was off, and then this morning the administration office told me your entire debt was cleared. What... what are you actually hiding from me?" "I got a loan from a distant relative, Ka. Look, I really have to get to class now," Ezra interrupted quickly, unable to handle the barrage of cornering questions anymore. He turned on his heel and walked away in a hurry, ignoring Raka’s voice echoing down the campus corridor. However, Ezra’s escape from the harsh reality didn't last long

Under the warm, golden glow of the bedside lamp, the atmosphere grew thick and suffocating. There were no formal words, no discussions regarding the rigid clauses of a contract. There was only the sound of ragged breathing and the friction of skin releasing a scorching heat. Darren pinned Ezra down with absolute dominance. His powerful arms braced on either side of Ezra’s head, locking the young man in place so completely that he had no room to look away. Darren’s dark hair was damp with sweat, droplets falling onto Ezra’s bare chest, which heaved violently against a dwindling supply of oxygen. "Darren... ahh, slow down..." Ezra whimpered softly. Both of his hands gripped Darren’s muscular shoulders tightly, seeking an anchor amidst the relentless waves of passion slamming into him without mercy. Darren’s touch tonight felt different. If a professional distance had been intentionally maintained before, tonight the intensity felt deeply intimate and emotional. There was a faint, unde

Two days after the explosive confrontation at the primary Wijaya estate, Darren was abruptly exiled from the capital. Mr. Wijaya wielded his supreme authority as the Executive Chairman to deploy Darren to Singapore on a sudden mandate, using the pretext of rescuing a corporate oil refinery investment currently tangled in an international lawsuit. It was a flawless diversion—a meticulously orchestrated psychological war designed to strip Darren of his footing. The exact moment Darren’s private jet sliced through the heavy clouds, the chess pieces controlled by his parents began their ruthless advance to corner their defenseless prey. That afternoon, a thick shroud of dark clouds hung low over the Jakarta sky, blanketing the city in a suffocating, ominous humidity. At the mouth of the narrow alley where Ezra’s rented house stood, the usual cacophony of neighborhood children playing vanished into an unnatural, unsettling silence. The synchronized footsteps of heavily built men in formal