A year had passed since the incident at Villa Roses. Frans was now in a serious relationship with Siska, and had decided to marry her. A month after the wedding, One month after his wedding, Frans returned to his busy routine. One night, exhausted from overtime, he dozed off on the sofa. Half asleep, he saw Rachel sitting beside him. Frans was shocked.

"Rachel? You're..."

"Darling, you look tired today. Why are you still sad?" Rachel asked softly.

Frans was silent. Rachel smiled, gently stroking his hair.

"Darling, make time for Siska, before it's too late. Please, make Siska happy."

Frans felt sorrowful. "But I still can barely forget you, Rachel."

Rachel just smiled, embracing him warmly.

"Darling, I'm at peace now. I only want you to make Siska happy."

Frans remained silent, looking down.

When he looked up, Rachel had vanished.

He was stunned."

On the morning, Frans visited Rachel's grave, carrying the bracelet that once belonged to her.

"Rachel, forgive me for failing to keep my promise to you.To be honest, I still can't forget you, Rachel. My love for you remains strong," he said, tears streaming down his cheeks.

Frans stood in silence for a moment. He gently touched Rachel's tombstone, wiping away his tears.

"Rachel, I hope you rest peacefully. May you be accepted in His presence. Your name will always remain in the deepest part of my heart," he continued.

After saying a prayer for Rachel, Frans stood up, ready to leave the cemetery. Just as he turned, a hand tapped his shoulder, startling him.

"Whoa, it's you, Ndre," said Frans in surprise.

"Yeah, I just came to pay my respects to some old friends too.

I still feel guilty about that cursed villa," replied Andre.

Frans gave a faint smile.

"Let it go, Ndre. I know it wasn’t your fault. It was just a tragedy," Frans said.

Andre stared at Frans for a moment, his eyes catching sight of Rachel’s bracelet in Frans’ hand.

"You just visited Rachel, huh?" asked Andre.

"Yeah, I said a prayer for her," said Frans.

Andre nodded. He patted Frans’s shoulder gently and walked further into the cemetery.

Frans left Andre behind, still praying for their three friends — including Rachel, his former lover.

As Frans turned away, he glanced back once more at the peaceful cemetery, then left for his office.

About ten minutes later, he arrived. He looked at the stacks of documents on his desk — but one thing caught his eye.

His fax machine blinked. A message had come in.

“Huh? Who sent this?” he thought.

It was a short message: “Help me.”

He checked the number listed on the fax.

“Whose number is this?” he muttered.

He immediately dialed it on his phone, only to hear the automated response:

“The number you have dialed is incorrect. Please check again or try later.”

He tried several more times. The result was the same.

Confused, Frans went to see his assistant.

“Dimas, do you know anything about this fax?” he asked, holding out the paper.

Dimas looked at it and frowned.

“Weird… I don’t remember seeing this come in, Mr. Frans,” he replied.

He checked the timestamp on the fax. His eyes widened.

“Sir, this message came in at three in the morning — when the office was empty. Did you set the fax to receive messages automatically?”

Frans frowned, trying to recall.

“Hmm... I don’t think so. If I had, why would I still put office hours on it? Doesn’t make sense,” he said.

While he was still pondering, his phone rang. Without checking the number, he answered it.

“Frans speaking, attorney at law.”

“Mr. Frans, this is Mr. Hendro. Please help my daughter, Andini. She's been accused of embezzlement, but she's innocent!” a worried elderly voice said. Frans nodded.

“Alright, sir. I’ll study the case. Can you send me your location?”

“I’m sorry, son. I’m not good with those things. Can I have your office address instead? I’ll come to you,” Mr. Hendro replied.

Frans gave him the address and ended the call.

He turned to Dimas.

“We’ll be expecting a guest later today. Let me know when Mr. Hendro arrives,” he said.

“Sure thing, sir,” Dimas replied.

Frans returned to his office — and was stunned to find a red folder lying on his desk.

“Huh? I don’t remember seeing this earlier,” he said, confused.

He opened it and discovered documents related to the Riyani murder case — a case that had been declared closed.

“This case was shut down a month ago,” he whispered.

Driven by curiosity, Frans headed to the police station in Bogor where the case had originally been handled. There, he met Inspector Abdi.

“Sir, how did this case file end up at your office?” Inspector Abdi asked, equally puzzled.

“I have no idea. I found it on my desk, but none of my staff knows anything about it,” Frans replied.

Inspector Abdi shook his head.

“We handled this case a year ago, but it went nowhere. It felt like someone powerful was behind it.”

“Someone powerful?” Frans asked.

“Yes. Someone with protection from higher up.”

Inspector Abdi explained the irregularities that plagued the case.

“Whenever we got close to a suspect, we suddenly received orders from above to shut the investigation down.”

“Who was that suspect?” Frans asked.

Inspector Abdi sighed and leaned closer.

“Pak Wito. That was the name we almost touched.”

Frans froze.

He knew that name all too well.

“So, that mafia boss is behind this,” he thought.

He decided not to pursue the case further for now, knowing who was involved.

“Thank you for your time, Inspector,” he said, preparing to leave.

As Frans walked away, he accidentally dropped the fax message on the inspector’s desk.

Inspector Abdi picked it up — and his eyes widened.

He rushed out after Frans.

“Wait, sir!”

Frans stopped, confused.

“Yes, Inspector?”

“You received this fax?” the inspector asked, holding up the paper.

Frans was stunned.

“Yes, I did… Why?”

“I’ve been getting the same message — same number — for days,” said Inspector Abdi.

“What?! You too?” Frans asked.

Abdi nodded slowly.

“Ever since the messages started, I’ve seen strange figures around the station.”

He pulled a small pocket mirror from his coat.

“This belonged to Riyani. I found it at the crime scene. No matter how many times I throw it away, it keeps coming back.”

Frans stared at the mirror — his expression darkened.

It reminded him of the terrifying memories at Villa Roses.

“…This is… strange. Truly strange,” he muttered.

He and Abdi exchanged contact info before parting ways.

“I feel like we’re both being pulled into something we don’t understand,” Frans said.

Time kept moving. On the road, Frans was stuck in traffic. It was nearing dusk. He glanced at his watch.

“Ugh, it’s been half an hour. I might get home late,” he thought.

Frans looked anxious. The traffic jam stretched far ahead, and the traffic police seemed overwhelmed by unruly motorcyclists. After half an hour passed, Frans finally sighed in relief.

He resumed driving. On a quiet stretch of road, he saw a small child walking in the middle of the street. Frans quickly hit the brakes.

Screeech! The tires screeched. Frans pulled over and rushed out, grabbing the child’s hand.

“Kid! Don’t walk in the middle of the road. It’s dangerous,” he said, pulling the little girl aside.

The girl looked at Frans. She was sobbing.

“Mister, I’m lost. I want to go home,” she said through her tears.

Frans was startled. He looked around — the road was surrounded by forest. He felt sorry for the confused little girl.

“Where’s your house, sweetheart? Let me take you home,” said Frans.

“Mister, my house is far,” the girl replied.

Frans smiled gently. He stroked her head softly.

“It’s okay, dear. What matters is that you get home safely. Come on, let’s go,” he said.

The girl looked hesitant, but had no other choice. She nodded and followed Frans to his car. They drove away from that place.

On the road, Frans started a conversation.

“Sweetheart, what’s your name? I’m Frans,” he said, introducing himself.

The little girl shyly replied,

“My name is Anita, Mister.”

Frans smiled. As they continued driving, he saw a junction ahead. He asked Anita,

“Anita, there’s a fork in the road up ahead. Which way is your house?”

Anita pointed to the right, timidly. Frans understood. He turned on his signal and took the right turn.

As he drove down the road, Frans felt something odd.

“Wait… this road feels familiar. Isn’t this the way to my house? I don’t remember there being a junction here. And shouldn’t I have crossed a bridge?” he thought.

But since it was getting late, Frans brushed off the thought and kept driving through the darkness. Soon, Anita asked him to stop.

“Mister, stop here. That’s my house up ahead,” she said, pointing to a large house.

Frans looked at it, puzzled.

“Why is there such a luxurious house in the middle of this road?” he wondered.

He paused for a moment. Anita looked at him and smiled. She tugged his hand.

“You’re kind, Mister. Come on, I want to introduce you to my mama and papa,” she said.

Frans smiled silently.

“Come on, Mister Kind. Take me inside,” she urged.

Frans’s mind was racing. But feeling sorry for her, he agreed. He drove into the front yard and escorted Anita into the house.

“Anita,” her mother called out, visibly worried.

Anita ran to her mother and hugged her tightly. Her father appeared and greeted Frans.

“Thank you for bringing Anita home. Please, come in,” he said.

Frans entered the house and was warmly welcomed by Anita’s extended family. They invited him to stay for dinner.

After dinner, Frans asked for permission to leave.

“Sir, I’ll head home now. My wife must be waiting,” he said.

“Of course. Take care on the road,” Anita’s father replied.

Frans got into his car and drove off.

“Why is this road so quiet?” he thought.

As he drove slowly, he looked around. Frans was puzzled. The road was brightly lit, but there were no people or cars in sight.

“Strange. This road is usually busy, but tonight it’s so silent,” he thought.

He continued driving. Frans recognized the corners of the road, but the eerie atmosphere made him uneasy. As he entered his housing complex, he was shocked — the road was covered in mist.

“Why is the road to my house foggy tonight?” he wondered.

After a while, Frans saw his house. But he was surprised when he entered. The house was empty. He walked into the living room and sat on the sofa.

“Siska, honey, I’m home,” he called out.

No one answered. Frans was confused. He got up and searched for his wife.

“Siska, sweetheart… where are you?” he called out lovingly.

He walked through the house, but couldn’t find her. He tried calling her, but his phone had no signal.

“Wait, why is there no signal? All providers work well here,” he thought.

He tried the landline. There was a dial tone, but after a long wait, he was disappointed again.

“The number you are trying to reach is currently outside the service area. Please try again later,” said the automated message.

“No signal? That’s strange,” he thought.

He tried again, but the result was the same. Feeling tired, Frans eventually fell asleep on the living room sofa.

Meanwhile, at the same time, Siska was anxiously waiting for Frans to arrive. She sat in the living room, worried about her husband who hadn’t come home.

“Sweetheart, where are you? It’s already late and you’re still not here,” she thought.

She tried calling Frans repeatedly, but there was no dial tone. In her panic, a call suddenly came in. Siska quickly picked it up.

“Sayang, where have you been?” she asked, panicked.

“Uh—sorry, Ma’am. This is Dimas. I’ve been waiting for Mr. Frans, but he hasn’t come to the office. There’s a client waiting,” said Dimas on the other end.

“I’ve been waiting for my husband too, but he hasn’t arrived,” said Siska.

At the office, Dimas paused. In front of him sat Mr. Hendro. He muted the speaker and said,

“Sorry, Mr. Hendro. Mr. Frans can’t be reached. What should we do?”

Mr. Hendro looked worried and confused.

“Sir, I’ve contacted several lawyers, but none are willing to take this case. Only Mr. Frans agreed,” he said with a troubled expression.

Dimas thought for a moment. He called Siska again, who was also a lawyer, and explained Mr. Hendro’s situation. After a brief conversation, the call ended.

“Here’s an idea, Mr. Hendro. You can go directly to Mr. Frans’s house and leave the documents with Mrs. Siska. Sometimes urgent clients drop off files at home,” Dimas suggested.

Mr. Hendro considered it and agreed. He went straight to Frans’s house and was greeted by Siska.

“Ma’am, I’ll take my leave now. I’ll try contacting Mr. Frans again tomorrow morning,” said Mr. Hendro.

“Alright, Sir. I’ll pass the documents to my husband. Sorry for the trouble,” said Siska.

Mr. Hendro nodded and left. After he was gone, Siska locked the front door and placed the documents on Frans’s desk.

As she was about to leave the room, suddenly a fax machine started printing.

“A fax?” she thought.

The machine printed a sheet with a short message. Siska read it and was puzzled.

“This message is strange,” she thought.

Before she could think further, she heard footsteps behind her. Siska was startled. She followed the sound to the kitchen, but it vanished.

“Who was walking just now?” she wondered.

She searched for the source of the sound. When she looked at the oven, she was shocked to see the shadow of a woman behind her. She turned around quickly — but no one was there.

“Who was that?” she thought.

Her skin crawled. Feeling frightened, Siska ran out of the kitchen and locked herself in her bedroom. She tried calling Frans again, but still couldn’t reach him.

Terrified, she covered her ears and eventually fell asleep.

Time passed. Morning arrived. When Siska woke up, she went to the kitchen. As she passed through the living room, she was stunned to see her husband still asleep on the sofa.

“Mas Frans?” she whispered.

She checked the front door. It was still locked, just as she had left it the night before.

“Did Mas Frans have a spare key?” she wondered.

Curious, she investigated and found that Frans hadn’t brought a spare key. With growing unease, she approached her sleeping husband and stared at him quietly.

On the sofa, Frans was still fast asleep. Believing it was her husband, Siska gently tried to wake him.

"Darling, wake up…" Siska said softly.

Frans was startled by the movement and slowly opened his eyes. He saw Siska still wearing her pajamas.

"Sweetheart…" he said with a warm smile.

Frans stretched and sat up from his sleep. While trying to fully open his eyes, he asked Siska,

"Where were you last night? I waited for you all night," Frans said.

Siska was surprised by the question. She furrowed her brow.

"Darling, I was home last night," she replied.

"What?!" Frans was shocked.

He stared at his wife in disbelief.

"How could that be? I didn’t see you at all last night," he said, confused.

Siska looked at her husband with a puzzled expression.

"Love, I was actually waiting for you last night. But you never came home. I tried calling your phone, but it was off," Siska said.

Frans turned on his phone, and as soon as it powered up, dozens of missed call notifications appeared.

"Strange… How could this happen?" he wondered silently.

Siska continued speaking.

"Mas, Mr. Hendro came by last night. He brought some case documents for you to review," she added.

Frans was shocked again. "Mr. Hendro?"

"Yes. He came to your office yesterday afternoon. Dimas tried calling you several times but couldn’t reach you. So Mr. Hendro came here last night," Siska explained.

Frans fell silent, unable to believe what had happened. He checked his call log and saw that Mr. Hendro had indeed tried to contact him. Before he could process it all, his phone rang again—it was Mr. Hendro. Frans quickly answered.

"Good morning, Mr. Hendro. Sorry, I was out late last night," Frans said.

"No problem, Mr. Frans. I brought the documents to your house last night. So, what do you think? Will you take on my daughter’s case?" Mr. Hendro asked over the phone.

"Uh, sorry, I haven’t reviewed the documents yet, but I’ll go through them this morning. When is the first hearing, if I may ask?" Frans replied.

"The first trial is in two weeks. Please, Sir, help Andini. I truly believe she’s innocent," Mr. Hendro said, pleading.

Frans paused for a moment and covered the phone’s speaker.

"Darling, could you bring me the documents from Mr. Hendro?" he whispered.

For a moment, Frans forgot about the strange events of the previous night. Soon, Siska returned with the documents.

"Here they are, Mas. From Mr. Hendro," Siska said.

Frans took the documents and smiled at his wife.

"Thanks, love," he said briefly.

He read through the papers for a moment, then spoke to Mr. Hendro again.

"Sir, I’m still reviewing the documents. But I promise—I’ll be Andini’s lawyer. I’ll investigate this case thoroughly," Frans said.

Hearing Frans’ response, Mr. Hendro sighed in relief. He was overjoyed that his daughter finally had legal representation.

"Alright, Mr. Frans. Thank you for agreeing to take on Andini’s case," Mr. Hendro said.

"You’re welcome, Mr. Hendro," Frans replied.

Mr. Hendro ended the call. In his office, he silently hoped his daughter would be freed.

"I hope you get out of this, Dini," he whispered to himself.

Meanwhile, in a detention cell, Andini was curled up in a corner. Her prison clothes made her feel miserable. Another inmate approached her.

"Ugh! Crying again? Your sobbing keeps me up. Shut up!" the inmate snapped, hitting Andini on the head.

Andini winced in pain. Her crying stopped, but she felt dizzy. Another inmate, a friend of Andini’s, stood up and confronted the aggressor.

"Hey! You’re getting more arrogant by the day!" she shouted.

"What?! You think you’re some kind of hero?" the other inmate retorted.

A fierce fight broke out in the cell. The guards rushed in to break it up.

"Enough! Stop it!" the guard yelled.

He looked at Andini, who was clearly in pain, and escorted her out of the cell.

"Andini, someone wants to see you," he said.

He brought her to the visitation room—where Frans was waiting.

ON ANDINI’S JAIL

"Good afternoon, Andini. I'm Frans, the lawyer hired by your father, Mr. Hendro," Frans said, introducing himself.

"Andini," she replied briefly.

Frans immediately pulled out Andini’s case file. He skimmed through it and asked,

"Miss, could you tell me the chronology of what happened to you?"

Andini paused for a moment. After calming herself, she began to recount the incident. It took her a while to explain everything.

"Mr. Frans, it all started when I accidentally found a file left behind at the office," Andini said.

"A file? What kind of file?" Frans asked.

Andini remained silent. She began telling the story in a soft voice, occasionally glancing around.

— Andini’s Story —

That afternoon, Andini was planning to resign from Wito’s company and headed to the HR division. She carried a folder containing her resignation letter. At the door, she knocked.

"Come in," a voice called from inside.

Andini entered the room and handed over the envelope. The HR officer read it briefly.

"Ms. Andini, I accept your resignation. Thank you for your dedication all this time," the officer said.

Andini shook hands with the HR officer and left the room. As she exited, she accidentally spotted a file lying nearby. She glanced at it, but suddenly Wito appeared and snatched it from her.

"Hey! How dare you!" he shouted.

Andini was startled. She was terrified by Wito’s furious expression—he was known as a ruthless CEO.

"I—I’m sorry, Sir. I didn’t mean to," Andini said, trembling.

Wito stared at her suspiciously. Out of fear, Andini rushed home.

The next morning, as she was about to help her father at the convenience store, two police officers suddenly arrived.

"Good morning. We’re from the police department. We’d like to question Ms. Andini regarding a case of corporate embezzlement," one officer said.

Andini was shocked.

"I—I’m sorry, Sir. I don’t know anything about any embezzlement," she said, trying to deny it.

But the officers had a warrant. Andini couldn’t resist as they took her away. Mr. Hendro, convinced of his daughter’s innocence, tried to defend her.

"Sir, my daughter would never embezzle company funds. She’s honest," Mr. Hendro said, trying to pull Andini back.

One officer pushed Mr. Hendro aside.

"Mr. Hendro, please don’t interfere with police duties," the officer said.

That morning, Andini was taken to the police station and detained. The evidence the police had was strong.

— End of Andini’s Story —

"Because my signature was on the document, I ended up like this. But I swear to God, I had no idea about the fund transfer," Andini said.

In a soft voice, Frans asked another question.

"Do you know what that document was?"

Andini shook her head.

"I didn’t get the chance to read it, Sir," she said, looking frightened.

Frans ended the meeting. He wrote a note on a piece of paper and handed it to her. Andini read it and nodded.

"Alright, thank you for your statement. See you in court," he said with a gentle smile.

Frans informed the guard that the visit was over and left. After he departed, the officer escorted Andini back to her cell.

Back at his office, Frans—who had secretly recorded the conversation—listened to it while reviewing the case file. He examined the evidence carefully.

"Okay… Andini worked in accounting. Based on the presumption of innocence, this financial report could be fabricated," he thought to himself.

Frans studied the evidence thoroughly. Time passed, and evening came. He closed the file with a weary expression.

"Ugh, damn. The evidence is really strong. Can I even win against that mafia?" he muttered.

He imagined what would happen if he failed. The thought of Mr. Hendro’s disappointed face haunted him.

"The evidence is solid. And the financial report they presented is convincing. But based on Andini’s story…" Frans fell into deep thought.

His face grew serious. Just as he was thinking, his phone rang. The number was unknown. Frans answered.

"Hello, who am I speaking with?" he asked.

The caller paused, then activated a device.

"Come alone to the building next door. I’ll be waiting in the motorcycle parking lot. Meet me there—alone," the voice said abruptly.

The call ended. Frans tried calling back, but the number was disconnected.

"This is strange. What’s going on?" he wondered.

Driven by curiosity, Frans went to the location. He stood in the motorcycle parking lot of the building across the street.

"Where is this person?" he asked.

Suddenly, he felt something cold and sharp pressed against his back.

"Don’t speak. Come with me," said a mysterious voice.

Frans tried to turn around, but the person struck the back of his neck, knocking him unconscious. Once he passed out, the stranger dragged him into a car and drove away.