“Make sure this is the right address,” Madam Wiratama’s cold voice cut through the silence inside the sleek black car that stopped in front of the luxury apartment building.

“Yes, Ma’am,” the driver replied, bowing slightly. “This is Miss Vania’s residence.”

The elegant woman stepped out slowly, her cream-colored coat flowing behind her slender frame. Her gaze was sharp, her stride firm — like a queen coming to restore order to a court stained by betrayal.

The elevator stopped on the twelfth floor. She walked down the corridor and stopped in front of door number 1205.

Her knock came loud and steady, echoing like a judgment drumbeat.

Tok... tok... tok......