Mr. Wahyu raised his hand, stopping her as though she were a nuisance. “No ‘buts.’ Facts are facts. If every careless worker who gets into an accident expects us to cover the costs, this company will go bankrupt in an instant. Do you think we’re a charity foundation? We have thousands of workers, Miss. Imagine if they all demanded the same thing.”
Those words struck her like a devastating blow. Indriyani felt a strange anger, hot and burning in her chest.
A charity foundation? Her father had devoted decades to this plantation! His sweat had built all this luxury!
“My father works for you!” Indriyani finally managed to say, though her voice was hoarse and weak. She stared at the arrogant man with red-rimmed eyes, desperation and fury mingling in her gaze.
“He fell at your plantation! That makes it your responsibility!”
Mr. Wahyu gave a small laugh, one that never reached his eyes—just air expelled from his lungs.
“And he was paid for it, Miss. We never withheld his wages. We gave him everything he was entitled to under the employment agreement. Every month. On time. The workplace accidents we cover are those caused by faulty equipment or an unsafe environment. Not accidents caused by the worker’s own carelessness, by violating the safety procedures we’ve established and repeated time and again.”
He leaned slightly forward, his gaze now more piercing. “Did the company provide slip-resistant boots? We did. Did we provide training? We did. Did we force Mr. Waluyo to harvest on that slope during heavy rain? No. It was Mr. Waluyo’s own choice to take the risk. A choice that, unfortunately, ended in an accident we never wanted.”
“So... you won’t help?” Indriyani asked, her tears now mingling with a sharp bitterness, as though her soul were being squeezed dry.
“Provide financial assistance for an operation costing hundreds of millions of rupiah? For a case of personal negligence?” Mr. Wahyu shook his head as though Indriyani had just asked the most ridiculous question in the world, something impossible and absurd.
“I can’t. I have responsibilities to hundreds of other workers, to the investors, and to the continued operation of this business. If I help you, it will set a dangerous precedent. Everyone will demand the same thing. And that, Miss, will destroy the system we’ve built.”
“But my father...”
“Your father has already received what he was entitled to. Wages and meager benefits,” Mr. Wahyu cut in, his voice impatient, as though he were already sick of hearing the same argument.
“Do you think this is a donation or something? This is business, Miss. Business. We invest, we take risks, and we expect profits. Not losses caused by carelessness.”
Indriyani lowered her head, her body trembling violently. The word business felt like a spell that drove away all hope.
All her pleas, all her tears, all her promises to devote herself—they were utterly destroyed by this cold logic. Crushed to pieces.
“I know this is hard, but you have to be realistic,” Mr. Wahyu added, as though he were offering priceless words of wisdom.
“Life is hard. Everyone is responsible for their own fate. Your father chose to take the risk, and this is the consequence. A consequence that you and your family must bear.”
The consequence? My father is dying, and that’s the consequence? Indriyani wanted to scream and slap that arrogant face.
But she couldn’t. An invisible wall, built from power and money, stood in her way. It was too high, too solid for her to tear down.
“I swore I would work for you for the rest of my life,” Indriyani said, her voice hoarse. She was still kneeling, but now she stared straight ahead at the cold marble floor instead of at Mr. Wahyu’s face.
“I’m not asking for money. I’m only asking you to save my father’s life. I’ll repay you with my devotion. My complete devotion.”
Mr. Wahyu snorted softly. “Devotion? What use is your devotion to my company? I have plenty of servants, Miss. They’re paid, and they have contracts. I don’t need devotion. I need profits. I need efficiency. Not empty promises.”
“Profits?” Indriyani repeated, hardly able to believe her ears. “My father has provided profits for you for years! Through his sweat, through his labor!”
“And we’ve already paid him for it. We’re even,” Mr. Wahyu replied, his gaze growing slightly sharper, as though he were becoming annoyed and his patience was wearing thin.
“Listen, Miss. I’m not going to repeat myself. The company will not cover Mr. Waluyo’s operating expenses. Period. Go find help somewhere else. Or... just give up. That’s your choice. Don’t waste any more of my time.”
Your choice. The words spun around in Indriyani’s head. Just give up? Watch her father die because of money? Because the cruel man in front of her refused to extend a helping hand? No, that couldn’t happen.
The anger burned through every cell in her body, but she knew she had no power. She was only a country girl. Before the ruler of this plantation, she was nothing more than a speck of dust that could be swept away without a second thought.
“What else do you want to hear?” Mr. Wahyu asked, his voice now sounding like an order—final and ice-cold.
“I’ve explained it perfectly clearly. There’s nothing I can do. There’s nothing I will do. Do you understand?”
Indriyani didn’t answer. She simply kept staring at the floor, her chest tight and her breathing broken. Her last hope, the hope she had carried in on her knees while humiliating herself, now lay shattered.
Not only had she been rejected—she had been trampled. Made to feel that her father’s life meant nothing in the face of a balance sheet.
“Then you can go home now,” Mr. Wahyu said, his voice flat again, as though he had already cast Indriyani from his thoughts. He returned his gaze to the documents on his desk, a clear sign that the conversation was over. His time was too valuable to waste on useless matters.
Indriyani rose. Her movements were stiff, her body trembling violently. Her heart felt crushed, shattered, and filled with an anger she had never felt before.
An anger that was cold and burning at the same time. She wanted to scream, but she had no voice. She wanted to fight back, but she had no strength. She had only one thing left: profound sorrow and the determination never to forget this humiliation.
She didn’t say a word. She didn’t look at Mr. Wahyu again. With steps that felt unbearably heavy, Indriyani turned and walked toward the door of the large office.
The mahogany door felt like the gates of hell she had just passed through, leaving all her hopes behind. She opened it and stepped outside without looking back, without letting the man behind the desk see any more of her tears.
Indriyani left the room, abandoning the luxury that now felt disgusting and carrying away the fragments of her shattered heart.
She walked down the long corridor as though she wanted to escape that cruel palace at once, its cold air and false promises. The exit was already in sight. She had to leave. She had to leave.