Since that moment of the Raka Live Broadcast, the media buzz hadn't died down. If anything, it was only getting louder. Every major business outlet in Jakarta and even a few in Singapore and Hong Kong ran headlines on Raka Pratama. "The Rising power," "From Shadow to King," and "The Pratama Group's True Heir Reshapes the Game." Photos of him standing beside Alaric Weiss and Selene were everywhere. Behind the scenes, powerful figures had started paying attention. Investors who once backed Raza Mahardika were quietly withdrawing. Contracts were being paused. Phone calls went unanswered. A few high profile logistics clients even reached out to Pratama Group, asking to renegotiate their deals this time under Raka. In the Santoso mansion, the tension was like glass, ready to shatter. Rini Santoso slammed a magazine on the table. “Look at this! They’re calling him a national asset now. That good for nothing boy is stealing everything you built Raza!” Nadine stood nearby, arm

... two Weeks Later, at the Pratama Group Headquarters , an urgent executive meeting had been called, and every seat was filled in the Boardroom. New faces were present, fresh board members and strategic partners, all handpicked by Raka Pratama himself. Selene sat calmly beside him, her presence was as firm and composed as ever. She picked up Her phone and put it on silent, immediately she hung a call. The call was from Switzerland, it was no other company than the billion dollar empire " WeissCorp". Alaric Weiss had just confirmed from Switzerland , this time from that WeissCorp’s Southeast Asia division was officially aligned with Pratama Group’s next local expansion move. Raka stood, buttoning his dark grey suit jacket with calm confidence. On the massive digital screen behind him, a map of Southeast Asia came to life. “We’ve restructured the board and now, we restructure our territory,” Raka said clearly. The screen highlighted major cities: Bangkok, Thailand - New lo

The next morning, a black car with the Pratama Group emblem rolled up to a modest neighborhood in East Jakarta. Andi Saputra stood outside his small house, still surprised and disbelief. His neighbors watched from their windows, they were twhispering in awe. A uniformed driver stepped out and opened the door for him. “Pak Andi Saputra? You’re expected at Pratama Towers.” He stepped in quietly, adjusting his only good shirt. His hands tremble d. His heart raced. He still couldn’t believe what was happening. Two hours later, he stood before Pratama Towers, the tallest skyscraper of glass and steel that reached the clouds. Staff bowed, doors opened automatically, and executives greeted him with respectful nods. He was led to the top floor, past shining marble floors and private elevators, straight into a boardroom. There, Raka sat waiting with several board members. “Welcome to your new home, Pak Saputra,” one of them said. Raka smiled at him. “You’re weren't just a frien