Night deepened, and the biting Tangerang wind began to seep into the bone. Once the emotional, tear-filled reunion on the porch had quieted down, Firman gently guided Grandmother Sumarni’s frail body inside the house.

The small rented row unit meant specifically for elderly tenants was tiny but kept neat and tidy. It held only a thin floor mattress, an old wooden wardrobe, and a small kitchenette in the corner. The space had been rented separately so the old woman could live in peace, far removed from the constant chaos of Rizka’s household.

Firman helped Grandmother Sumarni sit down on the floor mattress before crossing his legs directly across from her. The bright white glow of the fluorescent tube illuminated his broad, solid features, which had settled back into a composed expression. The ice around his heart might have thawed for his grandmother, but when it came to his biological mother, his sharp logic as a cybersecurity analyst remained executing with absolute precision.

"Grandma, drink some water first," Firman said, handing her a bottle of mineral water he had picked up at a convenience store along the way.

Grandmother Sumarni accepted the bottle with trembling hands, took a small sip, and let out a long sigh laden with the weight of her years. She looked at her grandson with conflicting emotions—towering pride mixed with a locked away sorrow she seemed eager to unburden after keeping it buried for so long.

"Firman..." Grandmother Sumarni began, her gaze drifting down toward the dull floor tiles. "You mentioned earlier that your tracking system found my address here. Do you... do you also know about your mother's situation?"

Firman rested his hands on his knees, his dark eyes fixed attentively on his grandmother. "My system only reads macro data, Grandma. Financial records, change of address filings, and accumulated loan balances under the name Rizka Amulia. But I want to hear the real story from you. What actually happened to them?"

Grandmother Sumarni set the water bottle down and clasped her knees, which were aching from the night air. Her weathered face suddenly turned pale with anxiety and fear.

"Your mother's life... is hanging by a thread, Firman. Ruined by her own greed," Grandmother Sumarni whispered, her voice trembling violently.

She began to recount the story. A few years after Firman was left at the orphanage, Rizka had remarried a man named Hendra. At the beginning of their marriage, Hendra appeared to be a wealthy, established man—everything Rizka had craved her entire life. They had even moved Grandmother into a planned housing community for a time to parade their newfound success and ensure every trace of Firman was buried deep underground.

Yet all that luxury turned out to be an illusion. Two years ago, Hendra attempted to launch a massive import-export enterprise. He drained their entire life savings and forced Rizka to secure astronomical sums of money through informal, illegal channels to cover their operating capital.

"Loan sharks?" Firman interjected, his brow furrowing slightly.

Grandmother Sumarni nodded rapidly with a terrified expression. "Not ordinary money lenders, child. Heavyweight loan sharks backed by ruthless debt collectors. The debt wasn't small either—it started at one hundred million rupiahs, but with predatory, compounding interest rates, that debt has ballooned to nearly half a billion rupiahs!"

Firman listened quietly without interrupting further. Half a billion rupiahs. To an average person, that was a soul-crushing figure capable of driving someone to absolute despair. But to Firman, that amount was merely equivalent to the bonus from one or two high-level corporate network encryption projects he routinely completed within months for multinational firms.

"His business failed completely, Firman. As soon as the debts piled up and they were being hunted down, Hendra... that coward fled! He ran off to God knows where, leaving your mother completely alone with her two elementary school children to face the terror of the debt collectors. Because their old home was seized, Rizka was forced to move into a cramped rental row unit, just three blocks away from my front alley."

Grandmother Sumarni gripped Firman's arm tightly, her aged frame shaking. "Nearly every single day, burly men show up at your mother's rental house. They scream, bang on the door, and make violent threats. Your mother is living like a broken shell of a person now, Firman. She doesn't dare leave the house during the day, cries incessantly, and lives in constant, suffocating fear."

As he took in the entire account, Firman's face showed not a single trace of sympathy. His cold, stoic demeanor—forged through the unrelenting hardships of his orphanage years—kept his heart frozen to Rizka's suffering.

The woman who had once cast him out to chase financial security with another man was now financially destroyed and abandoned by that very same man. The universe never slumbers when balancing the scales for an abused child's tears.

"Firman..." Grandmother Sumarni looked at her grandson's face with tear-filled eyes. "I don't want to meddle between the two of you, but my heart breaks for your little half-siblings who are terrified every single day. Rizka's rental is at the end of the front alley, only three blocks from here. I... I can show you the way right now, child."

Firman paused for a moment. He looked down at his clean, strong hands, then returned his gaze to his grandmother's clouded eyes with quiet authority and absolute resolve.

"You should stay here, Grandma. The night air is too cold outside. Just describe the house, and I will go there myself," Firman replied, his voice calm yet carrying unmistakable firmness.

Grandmother Sumarni shook her head, insisting on rising as she adjusted her traditional sarong. "No, Firman. I will show you the way. It's a bit of a distance from here, but I remember it clearly. I will go with you—I also want to see how your little brother and sister are faring."

Seeing his grandmother's determination, Firman ultimately gave in. He carefully supported Grandmother Sumarni's frail frame as they stepped out of the small unit. They mounted his heavy scooter and cut through the quiet night air.

After navigating the route, they pulled up to a small row unit with a rusted iron gate at the end of the alley. From the outside, the house appeared pitch black, as though the occupant had intentionally shut off the porch lights to deceive the debt collectors.

"That's the house, Firman... That is your mother's house," Grandmother Sumarni whispered, pointing a trembling hand toward the closed wooden door.

Firman stared at the house with a gaze as cold as arctic ice. The confrontation he had anticipated for over a decade was finally waiting directly before his eyes.