In a towering skyscraper overlooking the heart of Jakarta, silence filled the lavish office space.
A middle-aged man sat in his executive chair, eyes fixed on the cityscape beyond the wide glass windows.
He was waiting.
Waiting for someone to bring him the answer to a question that had haunted his soul for years.
> Knock, knock...
"Excuse me, sir. I'm Herman from the Intelligence Union. I've brought the information you requested," the man said as he stepped in, dressed neatly in a black suit. He handed over a thick brown folder.
Mr. Biromo gave a slow nod. "Have a seat," he said without looking.
He took the folder, his hands slightly trembling as he opened the first page.
But the moment his eyes landed on a certain name—Mia—his entire expression changed.
His breath caught.
His eyes shimmered.
> "So… it's true. She's my daughter… Ana's child…" he whispered hoarsely, barely audible.
Joy and grief crashed within him. Joy for finding the blood he never thought he would. Grief for Ana—
The woman he once loved deeply, now gone forever.
> "I don't know if what I'm feeling is happiness… or a regret too late to fix," he murmured, eyes closing. "Forgive me, Ana. If only I hadn't left that night… if only I had stayed with you…"
His fist clenched under the desk, trembling with rage.
> "Jerry Xiao… damn you!"
"You made Ana suffer. You made my child grow up not knowing who her father is. I swear… you'll regret destroying our lives."
Herman remained silent. Before him, the usually composed and formidable Biromo was unraveling—
A storm of broken love and unquenchable vengeance.
> "Ana… I should've stayed that night. I should've held you. Protected you. Both of you…"
A single tear rolled down his cheek, falling onto the pages below.
Those documents were no longer just ink and paper—
They were fragments of a life stolen by time.
---
[FLASHBACK – New Year's Eve, Years Ago]
Fireworks lit up the Jakarta sky. The air pulsed with music and laughter as guests partied away the final moments of the year.
In the midst of the chaos, a sharply dressed man loosened his tie, sipping from a glass of rare wine.
Biromo.
He stood still in the crowd, his expression cold despite the warmth of the celebration.
Beside him, an old friend, Duta, gave him a puzzled look.
> "Bi, where's Ana? You always bring her to these things. Don't tell me you two fought again."
"Don't mention her," Biromo replied flatly, gulping down a glass of Screaming Eagle Cabernet Sauvignon 1992.
The expensive wine burned down his throat, but did nothing to extinguish the fire raging inside him.
> "What happened?" Duta pressed, his tone serious. "You're not the type to get drunk like this… especially not without Ana."
Biromo exhaled deeply. His gaze turned hollow.
> "She said… she's pregnant. With my child. But I don't believe it. I never touched her."
Duta went silent—then scoffed.
> "Idiot!"
Without warning, he smacked Biromo on the head.
> "Did you forget? At your company's anniversary party last year—you were drugged! I was the one who called Ana to help you! You nearly died, and she saved you. You two... you slept together that night."
Biromo's brow furrowed.
A hazy memory flickered in his mind—confusing, fragmented.
> "I thought it was a dream… A delusion. I wanted her so badly, I thought I imagined it."
"No, Bi. It was real. I saw her leave your room the next morning."
"And now you're avoiding her? Denying the child is yours?"
Duta stood, seething.
> "Enjoy your loneliness tonight, Biromo. But don't expect a peaceful sleep."
He stormed off, leaving Biromo frozen—
Crushed by a truth that had finally clawed its way to the surface.
> "Damn it… How could I be so stupid?" Biromo cursed silently.
"Ana… forgive me. I promise, I'll come to you tonight. We'll fix everything…"
But fate had other plans.
A woman in a revealing dress approached with a seductive smile on her lips.
> "Hi, Bi," she whispered sweetly, hugging him and planting a kiss on his cheek.
> "Kalisya…" Biromo scowled, pushing her away harshly. "Get away from me! I don't need you anymore!"
Kalisya stumbled backward. Her face flushed red—not from shame, but from rage.
She turned and stormed toward the restroom—not to cry, but to plan.
Moments later, she returned to see Biromo laughing with an old friend. Silently, she approached his table and slipped something into the glass of wine still sitting untouched.
> "You're mine tonight. No one's going to take you from me," she muttered coldly.
Biromo returned to the table, unaware of what she had done. He downed the glass in one gulp and headed for the exit.
But his steps wavered.
His vision blurred.
The world began to spin.
And then—darkness.
> "Quick! Get him to my car!" Kalisya ordered, feigning panic.
Without a word, a large, broad-shouldered man emerged from the crowd. His face was cold, expressionless—as if he'd done this sort of thing many times before.
> "Yes, Ma'am," he replied flatly, lifting Biromo's limp body like it was a sack of rice.
That night, amidst the noise of celebration and blaring music, no one noticed a man being dragged straight into a trap.
They brought him to a luxurious hotel in the heart of the city. There, Kalisya orchestrated every move with calculated precision.
Biromo was laid unconscious on the bed.
She adjusted her dress, tousled her hair, and splashed water on her cheeks to mimic tears.
Then, she lay beside him—sobbing loudly, as if she had just been assaulted.
Everything was going according to plan.
She just needed the right moment to use this scene for her scheme.
But then...
Buzz... Buzz...
Biromo's phone buzzed on the nightstand, its vibration echoing in the otherwise silent room.
The screen lit up with a name: Ana
Kalisya turned.
Her face stiffened.
The buzzing wouldn't stop. It kept ringing.
Annoyed, she snatched the phone—accidentally pressing the green button.
From the speaker came a woman's voice—soft, trembling, yet heart-wrenching.
> "Bi… I think I'm going into labor. Please help me... I'm scared... I'm all alone…"
The voice cracked with pain, almost like a sob.
But no reply came.
Only silence.
On the other end, Ana could only wait…
For someone who would never answer.
A few seconds later, the line went dead.
And in that single moment of silence, fate was changed forever.
Kalisya stared at the phone with a complicated expression. Then she took a deep breath, suppressing the flicker of guilt that nearly crept in, and placed it back on the table.
"It's too late, Ana. He's mine tonight, not yours."
Still standing by the table, Kalisya glared at Biromo's phone with burning eyes.
The soft voice of the woman who had just called still echoed in her ears.
"Bi... I think I'm going into labor. Please help me..."
But there was no pity in Kalisya's heart—only envy, hatred, and an insatiable desire to possess Biromo completely.
With a sharp breath and a wicked grin on her lips, Kalisya gripped Biromo's phone tightly.
"I'll get rid of you. I won't let you live… or steal Biromo from me," she hissed like venom.
Quickly, she opened the message app and typed:
> "Come to Hotel Ciputra, Room 19. I need you now."
She sent the message using Biromo's contact name, then threw the phone onto the bed.
Once everything seemed in place, Kalisya lay back down beside the still-unconscious Biromo. Casually, she slipped off her dress, letting her body remain bare. Satisfaction washed over her—the war had begun.
But plans don't always go smoothly.
Thirty minutes passed...
Unconsciously, Kalisya drifted into a deep sleep. Her head rested on Biromo's shoulder. Both of them were in a position that could easily be misinterpreted by anyone who saw.
---
At that exact moment—the hotel room door swung open.
Ana stood at the threshold, trembling. Her breath was ragged, her heavily pregnant belly clearly visible. Her face was pale, her hair disheveled from the rushed journey.
Her eyes instantly locked on the heartbreaking sight before her.
Biromo—the man she loved, who had promised to apologize, who was supposed to be with her on the night their child was born—lay in bed... with another woman... both of them naked.
"Bi...?" Ana's voice was barely audible, more a whisper of despair than a call.
Biromo stirred. He slowly opened his eyes. As his gaze darted around in confusion... and as he realized Kalisya's body was pressed against him, the first face he saw—was Ana's.
"Ana...? No, this isn't what you think—"
Slap!
A hard slap landed on his cheek.
Ana's tears flowed, not out of anger—but disappointment. The kind of heartbreak that words could never explain.
"I came... because you said you needed me... but it turns out, the only thing you needed was another woman's embrace," she said in a trembling voice.
She clutched her belly, pain radiating through her back and abdomen.
Biromo rushed forward to help, but Ana stepped back, bracing herself against the contractions that nearly brought her to her knees.
"Don't touch me... and don't ever look for us again."
Ana turned and walked away, her steps shaky. She left Biromo standing there—now fully awake… and fully aware that he had lost everything.
---
Flash off.
Biromo's daydream was abruptly shattered by Herman's voice calling his name repeatedly.
"Sir, this... is Miss Mia's journal," Herman said softly, handing over a worn leather-bound diary. It had once belonged to Ana.
With trembling hands, Biromo opened it, turning page after page. Inside were Ana's honest, painful confessions—of carrying their child, of being abandoned, and of the night she decided to disappear with a heavy heart and a great secret.
Ana had given birth to twins—a boy and a girl. In an effort to stop Biromo's relentless pursuit, Ana had made the heartbreaking decision to give up the boy, Rico, to Biromo.
But she couldn't give up everything.
In her hatred for Biromo, there remained a love she could never kill.
She chose to take the girl—Mia—and disappear, as far as she could from the man she once loved but now loathed.
When Mia turned three, she began asking who her biological father was.
Not wanting her daughter to grow up without a father figure, Ana eventually married Jerry Xiao. From that day on, Jerry became Mia's father—not just in the eyes of the world, but in her heart too.
Mia grew up believing Jerry was her real father.
And Jerry never once denied it.
"Your real father," Jerry would say every time Mia asked, "is me."
He never betrayed that statement, even though he knew the truth.