Ayla sat on the edge of the apartment sofa, her hands clenched tightly around her phone as the screen dimmed into blackness. She could still see the initials: L.D.
It had to be him. The mysterious man from that night. The man whose name she never asked, whose face she'd memorized more by touch than sight.
And somehow, he found her.
A knock startled her.
Not a tap. A precise, assertive knock. Like someone who was used to being obeyed.
She opened the door slowly.
A tall man in a black suit stood there, expressionless. "Miss Ayla Rahmani?"
She nodded, lips parting to respond, but he was already stepping aside, gesturing toward the sleek black car idling by the curb.
"Mr. Darmawan is waiting."
Her knees nearly gave out.
Mr. Darmawan.
Leonard Darmawan. CEO of Darmawan Group. Heir to one of the most powerful business empires in Southeast Asia. A man whose name regularly graced headlines—always in bold, always in capital letters.
That was who she had slept with?
✧
The car ride was silent.
Ayla sat stiffly in the back seat, her stomach turning with nerves and something else—something deeper. Shame. Anxiety. A strange ache in her chest she couldn't name.
She wasn't dressed for this. Jeans. A wrinkled blouse. A tiny crack in her phone screen. She wasn't someone who belonged in this kind of car, going to this kind of meeting.
What was she even supposed to say?
Hi, surprise, I'm pregnant. We should totally get coffee and co-parent.
The car rolled to a stop outside a private building guarded by high steel gates. The security didn't ask questions—they simply waved the vehicle through. She stepped out and was escorted by the same silent man up a private elevator that didn't stop at any other floor.
When the doors slid open, Ayla stepped into another world.
Polished marble floors. A massive window overlooking Jakarta's skyline. Cool, grey decor. Clean lines, no clutter. Cold and perfect.
Just like him.
And then—there he was.
Standing by the window with one hand in his pocket, Leonard Darmawan looked like a painting: black button-up shirt, sleeves rolled halfway up his forearms, jaw taut with unspoken tension. No mask now. No soft smile. Just sharp angles and unreadable eyes.
He turned slowly, his gaze locking onto hers with the force of a storm.
"You're pregnant."
Not a question.
Just fact.
Ayla swallowed. "Yes."
He didn't flinch. Didn't blink. Just walked toward her with deliberate calm until only a few feet separated them.
"Why didn't you try to contact me?" he asked, voice quiet but weighted.
"Because I didn't know who you were," she snapped, more defensively than intended. "You were gone by the time I woke up. No name. No note. Just vanished."
His jaw ticked.
"I didn't expect it to matter."
That stung more than it should have.
Ayla folded her arms, forcing her voice to stay steady. "Well, it does now."
Silence stretched between them.
He stepped closer, and she instinctively backed up. His eyes flickered to her belly—flat still, but his stare lingered like he could see through to the future growing inside her.
"I'll take care of it," he said at last. "You'll be safe. You'll have everything you need."
She stared at him. "Is that your solution to everything? Money?"
"No," he said, calmly. "Marriage."
Ayla blinked. "Excuse me?"
Leonard's voice didn't waver. "You and I both know this will be a scandal. I can't afford the press tearing into this—not with the board elections and shareholders circling like vultures. My name cannot be dragged into a one-night-stand pregnancy narrative. Neither can yours."
He paused. "So we marry. Quietly. A contract. Two years. You and the baby will be fully supported. After that, we go our separate ways."
Ayla just stared at him like he had sprouted wings and horns at the same time.
"Is that how you fix things? With contracts and timelines and... calculated terms?" she asked, bitterly.
His eyes didn't flicker.
"I fix things by making sure everyone survives intact."
✧
Later that evening, after Ayla had stormed out of his office and refused to sign anything, Leonard sat alone in the dimly lit corner of his penthouse.
The whiskey glass in his hand was untouched.
His mind was far from his empire. Far from the boardroom battles, the profit margins, the endless expectations of being the Darmawan heir. For the first time in a long time, something had shaken him—and it wasn't a failed deal.
It was her.
That woman. That night. The unexpected heat in her laugh, the softness in her eyes, the way she looked at him like he was human—not a brand, not a name.
He had tried to forget her.
But he remembered everything.
He always remembered.
✧ Flashback ✧
Leo was sixteen when he realized his father didn't believe in love.
"Weak men marry for love. Strong men marry for legacy."
That had been the mantra in the Darmawan household. And Leo had spent his whole life trying to be strong—building walls so tall no one could reach him.
Not his mother, who walked out before he was even twenty.
Not the women who wanted his name more than his heart.
Not the brother whose condition he was too ashamed to speak about in public.
But that night with Ayla… something had cracked. She'd touched something raw, something he didn't even realize still lived inside him.
And now, there was no going back.
✧
Ayla tossed and turned in bed, unable to sleep. Her phone buzzed once more.
Tomorrow, 10 AM.Come to the private clinic in Menteng. Bring your answer.— Leonard Darmawan
She stared at the screen.
Then at her stomach.
A marriage?
To a man she barely knew?
To a man who didn't believe in love… but offered security, safety, protection?
Ayla closed her eyes and exhaled.
What if this is the only way?
To be continued...