Farhan Raksamudra's office on the top floor of Raksamudra Tower was more than just a workspace it was a dome dedicated to the cult of absolute control. Three hundred meters above the noise of Jakarta, Farhan sat at the head of a mahogany desk, where every line and angle reflected the order he forced into his life. The cold air from the central AC failed to cool the tension still flowing from the papers that had just been read. Only a few days had passed since his father's cremation, yet Farhan, the Master of Control, felt his world threatened by the final inheritance: a delayed emotional strike from someone long gone.
His face was a mask forged from ruthless efficiency, a monument to emotional discomfort. He was in his early thirties, yet his gaze bore the weight of decades of calculation. Grief was a random variable; an anomaly. Farhan had erased that anomaly from his system years ago. Tonight, he had to face the consequences of his choice never to yield to feelings.
Harsono, a veteran lawyer under the Raksamudra dynasty for four decades, looked old and weary. He closed a thick leather folder slowly, as if afraid the sound of paper would break the suffocating silence. His eyes avoided direct contact with Farhan, aware that he had just delivered a biological time bomb to the CEO.
"All transfers, Mr. Farhan, have proceeded according to schedule and previous terms," Harsono began, his tone more like an apology. "The audit report of personal and corporate assets is complete. You remain the owner of Raksamudra Group. However"
"However, there is unfinished drama remaining, Harsono?" Farhan interrupted. His voice was calm but sharp like steel scraping. "Give me the details. Remove the sentimental rhetoric. We discuss assets and liabilities. Nothing more."
Harsono coughed. "The final clause, Sir… your father was not satisfied with the 'single efficiency' you've demonstrated. This will was not only to distribute wealth but also to ensure the continuity of Raksamudra Group. He wrote it to require 'human balance.'"
"Human balance." The words sounded like an insult. To Farhan, balance was order; and order did not need love. He leaned forward slightly, danger radiating from his rigid posture.
"Tell me the amount I must pay for this clause, or the conditions I must meet."
Harsono pointed to the bolded paragraph. "Here are the requirements, Sir. To maintain 51% of Raksamudra Group's majority shares the controlling shares that grant you absolute veto power you are required to marry. The marriage must be legally registered within six months from the reading of this will. Crucially, it must last at least two years for the shares to permanently transfer to your ownership."
Fifty-one percent. The number hung in the air, visualizing the entire network of control Farhan had built since taking over the company. Losing 51% meant power would shift to the Board, creating chaos, uncertainty, and a loss of authority that formed the foundation of his identity.
His father's will was a betrayal from the grave. His father was forcing him to live through something Farhan philosophically rejected: emotional bonds, mutual dependence, vulnerability.
Marriage. For Farhan, it was not an institution but a biological contract wrapped in the illusion of romance. He didn't need illusions. He needed a solution. How to contract two years of compliance without leaving room for feelings?
He stood and stared out the large window. The city looked calm, like a neatly organized circuit map. Farhan let his gaze empty, recalculating his internal system. The problem was not who he would marry, but how he would control the outcome.
Harsono tried to voice his fear. "Mr. Farhan, six months is a very short time to build a convincing relationship, let alone for"
"A convincing relationship?" Farhan's eyes were ice-cold. "There will be no relationship. No doubts. No tedious self-discovery. This is a Marriage Contract Act. Acquisition of an asset required to maintain portfolio stability. We will ignore every emotional aspect, just as we would when acquiring another company."
He returned to the desk. Control slowly returned to Farhan. Every command was an anti-panic injection for his threatened ego. He needed an efficient, measurable solution, frictionless. He could not choose someone outside his environment too many unknown variables, too many risks.
Farhan needed someone who already operated under his protocol, someone who lived by efficiency. Instantly, Sekar Ayu appeared in his mind, removing the last traces of internal panic. Four years as his personal secretary, and in all that time, Sekar had never shown an unprogrammed reaction. Never cried, never sought validation, never arrived late. Every file submitted perfectly, satisfying Farhan's obsession with order.
Sekar was a perfect mechanical operator. Her silence was not passive but active compliance, a hidden promise that the system would always work. If he married Sekar, he wouldn't acquire a wife he would acquire certainty he could control 100%. Every clause could be arranged: no touch, no intimacy, strict domestic boundaries, and Sekar would remain his assistant both publicly and at home.
Farhan also knew Sekar's needs financial security, stability, without complicated emotional demands. This contract was a transactional win-win: Farhan gained control of the shares, Sekar gained economic security, and possibly care for her mother (though Farhan had never asked for details, he assumed urgency behind Sekar's total compliance).
The decision was made. Six months was ignored. Farhan would move fast, leaving no room for speculation or intrigue from the Board or greedy rivals.
"Harsono," Farhan commanded, resuming absolute CEO mode. "Contact the most credible notary immediately. I want a Marriage Contract Act, not a promise. It must be as thick as a military manual, setting deadlines and penalties for violations. No emotional rights, no property claims after the contract, and physical interaction limits must be precise."
Harsono was surprised but nodded. "Understood, Mr. Farhan. I will start drafting immediately."
After the lawyer left, Farhan felt a slight cold relaxation spread through him. The control system was restored. Emotional problems reduced to an acquisition project. Only one key asset was needed for absolute stability.
He picked up the internal phone beside his chair, a top-level emergency channel. It was past ten at night, far beyond Sekar's working hours, but Farhan knew she often stayed late. Habit was calculable.
He pressed the direct call button. A soft click sounded, then Sekar Ayu's voice came through, professional and calm. Her promise of compliance made Farhan feel secure at Zero Point.
"Yes, Mr. Farhan?"
Farhan straightened, his calm gaze now burning with cold decision. Every word had to land, leaving no room for panic or speculation. He delivered orders, not a proposal.
"Sekar," he said, his voice intense. "Tonight, come to my office. Bring your journal and pen. We have a new long-term project with a very tight deadline."
He paused slightly, letting the words land, promising a drastic rise in status but under stricter control.
"I know who I will make my wife to save Raksamudra Group," Farhan concluded, ensuring the marriage was a finalized transaction, irreversible.