Slowly, Vina's expression changed. The fear that had initially dominated her was gradually swept away by a cold wave of awareness. Her lips pressed tightly together, and the pair of beautiful eyes now burning with anger. She nodded slowly—not in agreement, but in confirmation of the bitter reality she had already suspected.
“I know,” Vina hissed, her voice as low and deep as the growl of the car engine outside. The brief pause filled with the sound of a nurse's footsteps in the corridor, reminding them that they were still in a public place. “I’ve known since the day he came to the office.”
Satrio didn’t answer. He simply let the silence hang. His sharp eyes locked onto Vina’s, a stare demanding a plan, not a confession. Satrio had already taken the risk. Now it was Vina’s turn to act.
Vina drew a deep breath, calming the last tremors in her body. She walked to the window with her back to Satrio. Her reflection in the glass radiated a newfound determination. Vina was no longer the fragile woman who had cowered behind a cardboard box. She was a woman now determined to fight back.
She pulled out her phone, the small object feeling like a weapon in her hand. Her fingers danced rapidly across the screen. She swiped and tapped, each touch decisive.
“Hello, Julian? It’s me, Vina. Sorry to bother you this late, but I need your help right now,” Vina said, her voice back to its firm business tone, though slightly lower than usual.
Satrio frowned when he heard the name. Julian Wijaya. A cold, brilliant corporate attorney, famous for efficiently destroying his opponents without leaving a trace. Not a casual choice.
“Yes, the case that just happened. It wasn’t an assault, Julian. It was attempted murder. I want them to pay dearly,” Vina continued, turning to face Satrio, her eyes gleaming with determination.
“I want you to immediately prepare an official police report charging them with attempted premeditated murder and aggravated assault. I have an eyewitness—my bodyguard—and he’s injured. I also have two attackers lying unconscious in the warehouse behind my office. Make sure they can’t get out on bail,” Vina ordered, her voice a mixture of steel and ice—a revelation of power that quietly startled Satrio.
Vina ended the call. She set her phone on the table with a sharp clack, then turned to Satrio. “Julian will send a team to the warehouse right away. They’ll handle the evidence and the attackers.”
Vina picked up her handbag and rummaged inside. She pulled out a business card made of thin metal, gleaming beneath the clinic lights, and handed it to Satrio.
“This is his private contact information. I want you to speak with him. Give him every detail,” she said, her eyes fixed on the bandage around Satrio’s arm. “And after that…”
Vina drew a deep breath, the gesture emphasizing that she was about to say something important. “After this, I’m going back to the office. And I’m going to sit in my commissioner’s chair,” she said, her voice hardening. “I’m not running away. I’ll show them that this cowardly attempt will only speed up their downfall.”
Satrio accepted the business card. The metal card felt cold and heavy in his hand, representing the burden of an even greater task. At last, he nodded, a hint of respect now mixed into his gaze.
“All right, Miss. I’ll speak with your attorney. But allow me to give you one piece of advice,” Satrio said, lowering his voice to a whisper so the nurse passing by again wouldn’t hear him.
Vina folded her arms across her chest and waited.
“They’ll come again, and this time they won’t send idiots like the ones before,” Satrio whispered, his eyes sweeping over the window as though he could see the approaching threat. “The next attempt on your life won’t happen in a dark warehouse. It’ll happen in the place you consider safest.”
In an instant, the atmosphere in the waiting room turned cold and oppressive. Vina fell silent and swallowed. The steely expression on her face suddenly gave way to doubt.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
Satrio didn’t answer. He merely raised an eyebrow, his gaze sharp and unyielding. He knew Vina understood. He had given her the warning she needed. The threat had now moved from darkness into the light, from physical danger to social destruction.
“I’ll wait for you in the car,” Vina said, turning swiftly and leaving Satrio alone with the phone and the attorney’s business card, which felt like hot iron in his hand.
Satrio grabbed his phone and the metal card. He stood, ignoring the throbbing pain in his left arm. He walked out of the clinic and headed for Vina’s car.
Inside the car, Satrio took out his phone and dialed the number on the metal card. The phone rang twice before someone answered.
“Julian Wijaya speaking.” Julian’s voice was sharp, cold, and hurried, as though time were an enemy that had to be destroyed.
“I’m Satrio, Miss Vina’s bodyguard,” Satrio replied. Without preamble, he fired off a stream of information. His words formed a concise military report: a brief chronology of the attack, the types of blows, weapon details, and the exact coordinates of where the unconscious attackers lay.
Julian listened. The silence on the other end of the line was wordless agreement.
“Understood. My team will be there in fifteen minutes,” Julian said. “One more thing, Mr. Satrio. Miss Vina said you were injured. What happened to you?”
Satrio froze. His left eye glanced at the bandage tightly wrapped around his left arm. The wound throbbed, as if it wanted to scream: a bullet wound.
“Mr. Satrio?” Julian pressed. His tone sharpened slightly.
“It’s a gunshot wound. I’ll explain in more detail when we meet.” Without waiting for a reply, Satrio pressed the red button.
Vina was already waiting for him. Her face was tense, her eyes demanding answers.
“What did Julian say? Why did you just hang up on him?”
Satrio dropped into the seat beside Vina. He closed his eyes for a moment, his breathing heavy, then opened them and stared straight into Vina’s eyes. Cold.
“He already knows everything,” Satrio replied, his voice flat and emotionless. “As for this wound, I’ll explain in more detail when we meet. We need to leave now.”
Vina nodded quickly. “Bro, let’s go now,” she ordered her private driver.
“Yes, Miss.”
The driver immediately started the car, accelerating as they pulled away from the small clinic. That night felt cold and heavy. Vina looked at Satrio and saw the cold sweat on his temple.
Suddenly, the car’s side window shattered into pieces. It wasn’t gunfire, but the brutal impact of an unidentified vehicle that had just rammed their car on the passenger side.
CRASH!
Vina and Satrio’s world spun, surrounded by shards of glass and the distorted roar of twisting metal. Satrio felt his body thrown through the air, his consciousness fading as the car rolled across the dark roadway.