Chapter 3: Family Dinner Tensions
The dining room of the Bong family mansion felt unusually tense that evening. Adrian sat at the head of the mahogany table—the same seat his father had occupied for decades—while the rest of the family gathered around the traditional Indonesian feast Aunt Minah had prepared. The aroma of gudeg and grilled chicken filled the air, but the atmosphere was anything but comfortable.
"So, Adrian," Uncle Asong began, cutting his chicken with deliberate precision, "tell us more about this Beijing contract. Two hundred billion rupiah sounds... ambitious for someone so young."
Adrian noticed the subtle skepticism in his uncle's tone. "Mr. Qiao has been a family friend for years. Father helped him when he was starting out, and now he's returning the favor."
"Of course, of course," Aunt Sari chimed in, her jewelry clinking as she gestured. "But managing such large contracts requires... experience. Perhaps it would be wise to have more senior family members involved in these decisions?"
Here it comes, Adrian thought, feeling a familiar tension building in his chest.
Tono pushed his glasses up his nose. "Cousin, no offense, but running a company worth trillions isn't like playing video games. One wrong move and everything could collapse. Maybe it's time to consider bringing in more experienced management."
"Yeah!" Bobi laughed loudly, slapping the table. "No pressure, cousin, but one screw-up and BOOM! Everything daddy built goes down the drain."
Little Mimi, sitting beside Adrian with her new panda doll, looked up with confused eyes. "Why is everyone being mean to Brother Adrian?"
"Eat your rice, dear," Aunt Minah whispered gently, stroking the child's hair while shooting disapproving looks at the adults.
Adrian felt the ring in his pocket grow slightly warm—probably from his body heat as his stress levels rose. He took a steady breath, maintaining his composure despite the barely veiled attacks.
"I appreciate everyone's concern," Adrian said diplomatically, "but the Beijing expansion is exactly what father would have wanted. We're honoring his vision while growing the business responsibly."
Uncle Asong leaned back in his chair, his smile not reaching his eyes. "Your father, God rest his soul, was a great man. But even he made mistakes early on. That's why he always consulted with family before making major decisions."
"Exactly!" Aunt Sari nodded enthusiastically. "Family should stick together, make decisions together. After all, this company supports all of us."
Adrian caught the subtle implication—that the company belonged to all of them, not just him as the designated heir. The ring in his pocket seemed to pulse with warmth, though he attributed it to his rising anger.
"The company is doing well under my leadership," Adrian replied firmly. "Our quarterly reports speak for themselves."
Tono snorted dismissively. "Quarterly reports can be manipulated, cousin. What matters is long-term stability. And frankly, some of us have concerns about your... impulsive decisions."
"Impulsive?" Adrian's voice remained calm, but his knuckles whitened as he gripped his fork.
"Well," Tono continued with mock reluctance, "going to Beijing alone, making deals without consulting the board, spending company money on personal trips..."
"It wasn't a personal trip, it was—"
"Boys, boys," Uncle Asong interrupted with a patronizing wave. "No need to argue. We're family. Adrian, we're just suggesting that perhaps it's time to consider restructuring the management. Bring in more experienced voices. Tono here has an economics degree, and I have thirty years of business experience."
Bobi grinned widely, showing his gold tooth. "Yeah, and I could handle security. Clean up some of the... loose ends around the company."
The way Bobi said "loose ends" sent a chill down Adrian's spine. Uncle Suryo, standing quietly by the wall, tensed almost imperceptibly—his military instincts picking up on the subtle threat.
"The current management structure is working fine," Adrian said firmly. "Father set it up this way for good reasons."
"Your father," Aunt Sari said with fake sympathy, "was planning to make changes before his untimely passing. He mentioned to Asong several times about bringing more family members into decision-making roles."
Adrian knew this was a lie, but he had no way to prove it. His father had been very clear about the succession plan and had never indicated any intention to change it.
The ring in his pocket felt noticeably warmer now, almost uncomfortable against his leg. Strange whispers seemed to echo at the edge of his consciousness, but he dismissed them as stress-induced hallucinations.
"Look," Adrian said, standing up from the table, "I appreciate everyone's input, but I've had a long day. The Beijing trip was successful, the contracts are signed, and the company is stronger than ever. That's what matters."
Uncle Asong's smile became more predatory. "Of course, nephew. But remember, success is about more than just one good deal. It's about sustainability, about having the right people in place to weather any storms that might come."
There was something ominous in his uncle's tone that made Adrian's skin crawl. The ring was definitely getting warmer, almost burning against his leg through the fabric of his pocket.
"Thank you all for the wonderful dinner," Adrian said, his politeness barely masking his discomfort. "Aunt Minah, as always, the gudeg was perfect."
The elderly woman beamed with genuine warmth—the only sincere smile in the room.
"Uncle Suryo," Adrian called out, "could you help me with my luggage? I should get some rest."
Uncle Suryo immediately stepped forward. "Of course, Young Master."
As they prepared to leave, Adrian heard Tono mutter to Bobi, "Give it a month. Then we'll see who's really running this company."
The comment was meant to be overheard, and it sent a clear message. The battle lines were being drawn.
Adrian's bedroom was a sanctuary of childhood memories mixed with adult responsibilities. Posters of his favorite soccer teams hung beside financial charts and business reports. Uncle Suryo placed the luggage near the wardrobe and was about to leave when Adrian called him back.
"Uncle, close the door. We need to talk."
Uncle Suryo's military instincts immediately kicked in. He sensed the urgency in Adrian's voice and quickly secured the room, checking the door and windows out of habit.
"That dinner was a declaration of war," Adrian said grimly, sitting heavily on his bed.
"I noticed," Uncle Suryo replied, his weathered face serious. "They're not even trying to hide their intentions anymore. Your uncle's getting bolder."
"Did you hear what Tono said about giving it a month?" Adrian asked, pulling the ancient ring from his pocket and setting it on his nightstand. The metal felt almost hot to the touch, though he assumed it was from being in his warm pocket all evening.
"I heard. They're planning something specific, and they have a timeline." Uncle Suryo studied the ring with interest. "That's new. From Beijing?"
"Yeah, bought it from an old woman at the antique market. She seemed... unusual." Adrian rubbed his temples, feeling a headache coming on. "Uncle, I need to ask you something directly. Do you think they're capable of doing something illegal to get control of the company?"
Uncle Suryo was quiet for a long moment. "Young Master, in my years of military service, I learned that desperate people are capable of anything. And your uncle's family is getting desperate. They've been living off the company's generosity for three years, but they want more than just allowances. They want control."
"What kind of options do they have, legally speaking?"
"They could challenge your competency in court, claim mismanagement, try to convince the board of directors that you're unfit to lead. With enough evidence—even fabricated evidence—they might succeed."
Adrian felt a chill run down his spine. "And illegally?"
Uncle Suryo's expression darkened. "Sabotage. Accidents. Making you disappear. Your uncle has connections with some unsavory people through Bobi's gang affiliations."
The ring on the nightstand seemed to pulse with a faint light, though Adrian attributed it to the lamplight reflecting off the metal surface.
"So what do we do?" Adrian asked.
"We stay alert. We document everything. We prepare for the worst while hoping for the best." Uncle Suryo moved toward the door. "And Young Master? Don't eat or drink anything that hasn't been prepared by Aunt Minah. Trust no one else in this house."
After Uncle Suryo left, Adrian lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling. The ring sat innocuously on his nightstand, but something about it drew his attention. The carvings seemed more intricate than he remembered, the symbols more complex.
Outside his window, storm clouds were gathering over the mountain city. The air felt heavy with the promise of rain, and somewhere in the distance, thunder rumbled ominously.
Adrian reached for the ring, intending to examine it more closely, but as soon as his fingers touched the metal, he felt an overwhelming wave of exhaustion. His eyelids grew heavy, and despite all his worries about his family's schemes, sleep claimed him almost immediately.
In his dreams, he heard whispers in a language he didn't recognize, and saw flashes of images he couldn't understand—storms, darkness, and crowds of people looking up at a sky that burned with an unnatural red light.
But when he woke the next morning, he would remember none of it.
For now, the ring's true power remained dormant, waiting for the right moment to reveal itself. And in the house below, Uncle Asong was already making phone calls to Jakarta, setting plans in motion that would force Adrian's hand sooner than anyone expected.