Chapter 9
That morning, the air in the Kencana Mode office felt piercing. Not because the air conditioning was too cold, but because of the palpable anger radiating from Elara Kencana. Her fingers gripped her digital tablet with enough force to shatter the glass. On the screen was the publication draft for their charity project, "Glimmer of Hope." A name that was supposed to signify togetherness now felt empty, ironic, and reeked of betrayal. Adrian Mahesa had done it again.
He had sent a preliminary press release to the major media outlets, containing the basic project concept they were supposed to agree on today, but with one fatal, minor "improvement." Adrian had replaced Elara's main illustration—a sketch of a flowing, bold, and colorful gown symbolizing hope rising from despair—with a rigid, geometric logo, the emblem of the Mahesa Group, which, in Elara's opinion, was a concrete representation of Adrian's unimaginative soul. Not only that, but the dense, emotional project description she had written was gutted and replaced with dry data points and statistics, stripping the entire humanitarian essence from the charity initiative.
"This wasn't a mistake, Rina," Elara hissed, her voice low and strained. She didn't look at her best friend, her gaze fixed on the prominent Mahesa logo on the draft as if she could burn it away with her stare. "This is blatant sabotage. Adrian is deliberately trying to silence Kencana Mode's identity, to make this project an extension of himself!"
Rina, Kencana Mode's ever-cheerful head designer, tried to ease the tension with a light touch on Elara's shoulder. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee from the pantry seemed to evaporate with the tension. "Maybe he just... wanted to ensure Mahesa's standards were met, Elara. You know how Adrian is... a perfectionist." Rina's voice was hesitant, as if she wasn't convinced by her own defense.
Elara snorted. "Perfectionist? Or an egotistical control freak? He turned our narrative into soulless data! We're talking about helping those in need, Rina, not a quarterly financial report!" She finally turned, her curly hair whipping with the movement. Elara's eyes blazed, reflecting a disappointment far deeper than just a publication issue. It was a painful repeat performance. Adrian always found a way to rip the soul out of everything Elara held most dear.
"Listen, El," Rina placed her hand on Elara's arm, her gaze softening. "I know you're mad. I would be too. But this is about the project, right? About your grandfather. Maybe... maybe he had a reason. We haven't even met with him yet."
"A reason?" Elara laughed bitterly. The sound was dissonant in the spacious room. "Adrian's only reason is domination, Rina. He wants the world to see this project as his, a result of the 'Mahesa Group precision' he idolizes. He doesn't care about the personal touch, about the story behind every stitch we design." She walked to the window, staring at the towering Jakarta skyscrapers as if searching for an answer in the hazy, overcast horizon. "I tried, Rina. I tried to ignore the past, to focus on the goal. But he..." Elara clenched her fist. "He always knows how to pull me back onto the battlefield."
Rina sighed. "Maybe this is his way of collaborating, El. In his own rigid way. We just need to find an opening to insert your style." She knew that deep down, Elara was fighting for more than just the project; she was fighting for the recognition and validation Adrian had never given her.
"Insert? I'm supposed to be a partner, Rina, not a decoration! Or worse, his creative assistant!" Elara yanked her arm away, breaking Rina's hold. "No. I won't let him. This project has to represent Grandfather's spirit, a spirit that combined the classic with innovation. Not just a cold, expressionless Mahesa logo."
Elara took a deep breath, trying to control the emotions churning inside her like a storm at sea. "Cancel that press release. Immediately. Tell the media it was an unapproved early draft, that there was a technical error. I'm going to confront him myself. I want to see if he dares to deny it to my face." Elara's resolve hardened again, the emotional armor she wore to protect herself from Adrian clicking into place. The old disappointment, etched in her memory since that night years ago, now felt deeper and more raw. She would not let herself be steamrolled again.
In the Mahesa Group office, Adrian Mahesa sat behind a polished mahogany desk, holding a cup of black coffee, no sugar. His gaze was fixed on the monitor, where he had just checked the delivery confirmation report for the "Glimmer of Hope" press release. A faint, almost imperceptible smile played on his cold lips. He knew what would happen next. He could picture Elara Kencana exploding with rage, her curly hair a mess, her eyes on fire. And for some reason, imagining it gave him a strange satisfaction, as if avenging the emotional chaos Elara always brought into his life. The bitter aroma of the coffee seemed to soothe the tension in his chest.
"Adrian, are you sure this was a wise move?" Baskara, the COO of Mahesa Group, stood at the doorway, his crisp shirt contrasting with the furrow in his brow. "Sending out a press release without final approval from Kencana Mode... that could be seen as violating the 'truce' Mr. Tirtayasa presented yesterday. Remember the consequences."
Adrian set his cup down slowly. The clink of porcelain broke the silence of the vast room, echoing off the dark wood-paneled walls. "That pact spoke of 'proven sabotage,' Baskara. This isn't sabotage. This is... optimization. Elara's initial concept, while visionary, was too abstract. There was no data substance, no concrete impact projection. The Mahesa Group cannot risk our reputation on something so immeasurable." His voice was flat, controlled, flawless.
Baskara stepped closer, his eyes a mixture of bewilderment and disapproval. "Optimization? You know exactly how Elara will react to that 'optimization.' You replaced her core design with our company logo, Adrian. And you cut out the entire emotional narrative that is Kencana Mode's hallmark. That's not just suboptimal, it's a declaration of war." Baskara could feel the tension creeping into the air, even as Adrian tried to hide it.
Adrian leaned back in his high-backed leather chair. "This is business, Baskara. Not a poetry competition. This charity project, in the public eye, is a reflection of both the Mahesa Group and Kencana Mode. I will not allow the... overly idealistic aspect of Kencana Mode to dictate the entire narrative. We need to show efficiency and results."
"Or do you just want to show who's in control?" Baskara asked, his voice sharper than usual, piercing Adrian's icy veneer. "You can never let go of control, Adrian. Not in business, and apparently, not when it comes to Elara."
That name, Elara, always had a strange effect on Adrian. Like a faint electric shock. A subtle tremor beneath his rigid facade. He ignored Baskara's jab, though the words stung deeper than he let on. "I'm just ensuring that Grandfather's legacy isn't gambled away by fleeting emotions, Baskara. Grandfather wanted a successful collaboration, not personal drama." Adrian shifted his gaze out the window, as if to avoid Baskara's penetrating stare.
"Grandfather wanted the two of you to work together, Adrian. Not for one to dictate to the other," Baskara retorted, undeterred. He knew the only way to get through to Adrian was by mentioning their grandfather. "You know, Grandfather always saw more than just numbers. He saw the soul in a design, and he saw the potential in you and Elara. A potential you seem determined to destroy."