# Chapter 8: Shadows of Conspiracy
The city’s weather-control system sent a drizzle of artificial rain tapping softly against the window of the VVIP treatment room where Andien was being cared for. On the smart bed that continuously monitored fluctuations in her stress hormones, Andien lay staring blankly through the ceiling. Her heart was like a slab of coral battered again and again by waves of grief—shattered, scattered, and no longer whole.
Beside her, her mother never stopped stroking her daughter’s hair with the tenderness only a mother could possess. Her hands, already beginning to wrinkle, wiped away the tears flowing once more from the corners of Andien’s eyes.
“I know this is unbearably hard, sweetheart... I know it feels like your whole world has collapsed,” her mother whispered, her voice trembling yet filled with resolve. “But you can’t surrender to this grief, Andien. Do you remember Bisma? That man gave his life so his most precious treasures could live. Those treasures are Baim... and you.”
Andien squeezed her eyes shut, allowing another sob to escape.
“Bisma entrusted Baim to you, sweetheart,” her mother continued, kissing Andien’s forehead. “Baim is the last fragment of Bisma’s soul left in this world. If you fall apart, who will hold Baim when he wakes up? Life has to go on, Andien. You have to be strong, not only for yourself, but for your little angel, who now has only you.”
Her mother’s words pierced the darkest depths of Andien’s heart. Baim’s terrified, tear-streaked face from the night of the incident flashed through her mind. Yes, her mother was right. Baim needed her. Bisma would never forgive her if she left Baim to struggle on his own.
A powerful resolve suddenly surged through Andien’s chest. With what little strength she had left, she threw off the thermal blanket covering her body and forced herself upright.
But the sudden movement made the monitor screen on the wall flash red. A nurse in a smart medical coat immediately hurried into the room.
“Mrs. Andien, please lie back down. You haven’t been cleared to get up yet,” the nurse said, firm but gentle, as she held Andien by the shoulders. “Your blood pressure and endorphin levels are still below the normal threshold. Your body could collapse if you force yourself to move.”
“I have to see my child,” Andien protested hoarsely, trying to push the nurse’s hand away. “Nurse, please bring me my digital phone. I want to see how he’s doing through the monitoring screen, and I need to know... I need to know how my husband’s case is progressing out there.”
The nurse exchanged a brief glance with Andien’s mother, then slowly shook her head. “I’m sorry, ma’am. The attending physician has given strict orders to block all access to communication devices and media. No digital phone, no outside news. Our priority right now is restoring your mental and physical condition so you don’t suffer another shock.”
Andien let out a frustrated snort and leaned her back against the pillow again, helplessness weighing on her. She felt like a bird trapped in a golden cage, isolated from the outside world that might be tearing her husband’s reputation to shreds.
Outside the sterile VVIP corridor, another tension was reaching its peak.
Cole paced back and forth in the private waiting room, his face flushed with barely restrained anger. He had just stopped a private intelligence operative working under Bisma’s company.
“What do you mean, no information?!” Cole hissed, grabbing the collar of the staffer named Reza. “How can a senior scientist with Level One security clearance simply vanish off the radar?!”
Reza swallowed, his face pale. “W-We’ve searched all of his known coordinates, Mr. Cole. Professor Denny isn’t at his residence, his communicator was forcibly shut down, and the microchip trail in his vehicle was removed. He’s been listed as AWOL (Absent Without Official Leave) ever since news of Mr. Bisma’s death spread.”
Cole cursed viciously, released his grip, and rubbed his face in frustration. “Damn it! That old man knows something. Bisma was murdered, and the company needs him to secure the project data, but he runs away instead!”
Cole’s thoughts raced. Had Professor Denny betrayed them? Or had the old man realized he was the next target of the same party that had taken Bisma out? Whatever the reason, Denny’s disappearance made Cole even more certain that Bisma’s murder was part of a vast, highly dangerous conspiracy.
Meanwhile, two floors below them, in the Pediatric ICU, the atmosphere was far quieter.
On the hospital bed, Baim still lay unconscious. A nano oxygen mask covered his nose and mouth, while tiny tubes connected to his little arms. The boy had been deliberately placed in a mild medically induced coma to stabilize his breathing, which had failed after the acute asthma attack and traumatic shock that night.
Sitting in the chair beside Baim’s bed was a woman whose presence in any public place always triggered a barrage of camera flashes. She was Lula.
Lula was no ordinary woman. She was a top-tier celebrity, the most sought-after big-screen actress of the year, and Andien’s closest friend since they had begun building their careers together. Lula’s beauty was almost unreal. Her jet-black hair fell in perfect waves around her oval face. Her sharp, catlike eyes radiated a charismatic aura, complemented by her high-bridged nose and naturally vivid red lips. Although tonight she wore only a simple black trench coat with dark sunglasses perched on her head, the allure of her elegance still radiated powerfully.
But there was no glamorous smile on that beautiful face now. Lula’s cat eyes reflected profound sorrow as she looked at Baim. She gently stroked the back of the child’s hand.
Needing to distract herself from her grief, Lula opened her transparent smart pad. She meant to read a message from her manager, but the device’s automatic system brought up her social-media home page instead.
Within seconds, Lula’s eyes widened. Her jaw went rigid.
Her timeline and FYP (For You Page) across every digital platform exploded with the same topic, dominating the national news algorithms. Instead of news filled with sympathetic condolences, cyberspace was overflowing with wild speculation and insane conspiracy theories.
Lula read the holographic headlines appearing one after another:
“Bisma’s Death: Tragedy or an Execution for the Palace Project?”
“Online Forensics Experts Prove CCTV Anomaly—Did Bisma Fake His Death?”
“REVEALED! Alleged Research-Fund Scandal Traced to Mr. B’s Wife’s Personal Account!”
“Global Elite Conspiracy: Who Really Benefits from the Scientist’s Disappearance?”
The comments beneath the videos were no less vicious. Thousands of anonymous accounts claimed that Bisma’s death was karma for the weapons-of-mass-destruction project he was developing. Others accused Andien of plotting her husband’s murder to seize patents worth trillions of rupiah.
Lula shut off her smart pad so forcefully that its screen gave a faint chime. Her breathing quickened as she struggled to contain the anger boiling in her chest.
The world had truly gone mad. While her best friend was completely shattered by the loss of her soulmate, and this innocent little boy was fighting to breathe in the ICU, people outside were turning the bloody tragedy into cheap entertainment and fodder for conspiracy theories.
Lula looked at Baim one more time, then clenched her fists with a murderous expression. Whoever was behind all this chaos, Lula thought, they weren’t just killing Bisma. They were trying to destroy Andien and Baim until nothing remained.