Semua Bab Between Three Loves : Bab 11 - Bab 20

The Surya family’s gala dinner at Hotel Mulia was a stage play gilded in gold. The glow of crystal chandeliers reflecting off the marble floors seemed to mask the dark stains hidden beneath the tuxedos and silk gowns of its guests. Dewangga stood beside Davian, dressed in a dark suit that felt like armor pulled too tight. His hand, tucked inside his pocket, kept feeling for the apartment key, making sure the cold piece of metal was still there.Davian looked impeccable. He greeted every colleague with a convincing smile, radiating an aura of leadership that made Mr. Surya nod in satisfaction from afar. No one would suspect that beneath that charm, Davian was an architect of destruction without mercy.“You’re too tense, Dewangga,” Davian whispered without breaking his smile as he shook hands with a property investor. “Relax your shoulders. People might think I’m torturing you if you keep looking like that.”“I’m just uncomfortable in crowds, Davian,” Dewangga lied, trying to steady his

The journey to Puncak felt like a descent into a black hole ready to swallow anything that came near. The black SUV cut through thick fog blanketing the winding uphill road, while the drizzle turned into a raging storm pounding against the windshield. Inside the car, the silence between Dewangga and Vivian was more suffocating than the thunder outside.Vivian sat in the passenger seat, her slender fingers gripping her leather bag tightly. Her eyes stared straight ahead, but her thoughts were clearly fixed on the adoption documents she had just read. Her father’s betrayal was a fresh wound, sharpening her hatred toward Davian.“You know, Dewangga,” Vivian’s voice broke the silence—cold and sharp. “I always felt something was off about the way Father looked at Davian. There was guilt hidden behind his authority. Now I understand. Davian isn’t just a monster we created—he’s Father’s past sin coming back to collect its debt.”Dewangga kept his eyes on the slippery road. “He’s not just col

The morning sun along the southern coast of Java burned far harsher than the fluorescent lights of Sudirman ever had. Dewangga—now known only as Adrian to the locals—hauled in his fishing net, his breath ragged. The burns on his back stung whenever saltwater touched them, but he ignored the pain.“Adrian, you’re daydreaming again?” shouted an old fisherman named Pak Kumis.Dewangga snapped out of it. “No, sir. Just a bit dizzy from the heat.”“Alright, take today’s catch back to your hut. Don’t push yourself,” Pak Kumis said kindly.Dewangga nodded and carried the basket of fish toward a small wooden hut perched at the edge of a cliff. Inside, a man sat in a wheelchair, staring out at the sea through a narrow window. The lower half of his face was wrapped in cloth, leaving only a pair of sharp, hate-filled eyes visible.“Eat,” Dewangga said, placing a plate of rice and grilled fish in front of him.The man—Davian—didn’t touch the food. He slowly turned toward Dewangga, his voice now r

Morning on the mountain slope arrived with mist creeping through the gaps in the wooden walls of the cottage. The scent of cloves dampened by dew filled the air, offering a strange sense of calm to Dewangga. He stepped out onto the terrace, stretching muscles that still often felt stiff. In his hand was a small hoe; he planned to plant a few vegetable seedlings behind the hut.“You seem to be enjoying your role as a farmer, Dewangga,” a hoarse voice came from the corner of the terrace.Davian sat in a bamboo chair, a blanket covering his still-weak legs. His face, now marked with scars, looked calmer in the dawn light, though his eyes remained as sharp as ever.Dewangga glanced at him briefly. “At least the soil never betrays you, Davian. If you take care of it, it gives something back. Simple.”Davian let out a low chuckle, more like a hiss. “Simplicity is a luxury for people who have nothing left to chase. But I know you. You’re waiting for something, aren’t you? You’re not truly at

Dewangga’s footsteps pounded against the dry leaves in a chaotic rhythm. Behind him, the sound of the helicopter began to fade, but the echo of the explosion at the cottage still tore through his ears. He stopped briefly behind the trunk of a विशाल banyan tree, trying to steady his breathing, which burned like fire in his lungs.His right hand clenched the memory chip inside his jacket pocket. The small object felt unnervingly cold, in stark contrast to the lingering heat radiating from the mountain slope. Dewangga knew that inside the cottage—now reduced to ashes—Davian might have found the ending he wanted: a grand final confrontation. But for Dewangga, this was the beginning of a new curse.“She won’t let me escape,” Dewangga whispered into the darkness of the forest.He glanced at the absence of his silver necklace, realizing that Vivian now held the last symbol of the humanity he once had. Vivian would not stop. His wife—or the woman now wearing his wife’s face while ruling the S