Three weeks passed. Bella had recovered fully, yet she chose to remain in Aris’s luxury penthouse, attempting to adapt to a life above the clouds. Aris kept his word impeccably; he showered Bella with every comfort she had once longed for, while maintaining a respectful distance to give her the space she needed to think.

However, that fragile tranquility was disrupted one bright morning.

Andi, his personal assistant, knocked on the study door with an unreadable expression. "Sir, there are guests in the main lobby. They... they insist on seeing Mrs. Bella."

Aris, who was reviewing investment reports, set his pen down. His eyes narrowed. "Who?"

"Mr. Wijaya and Mrs. Ratna. They look completely disheveled, Sir."

A faint, cold smirk touched Aris's lips. Ah, the rats have finally reached peak starvation, he thought. He didn't call security to throw them out; quite the contrary. "Bring them up to the main lounge. And inform Bella to come down."

In the magnificent lounge, Mr. Wijaya and Mrs. Ratna looked like hollow ghosts of their former selves. Their clothes were tattered, their faces drawn and gaunt, and the arrogance that once radiated from them was replaced by a repulsive, desperate gaze.

As Bella descended the staircase, her steps faltered. She saw her parents sitting on the expensive leather sofa, their hands trembling violently. The moment Mrs. Ratna spotted Bella, she scrambled off the sofa and tried to reach for Bella's feet.

"Bella! Oh, my precious daughter!" Mrs. Ratna wailed, tears streaming down her face. "You have to help us! We've lost everything! No home, no food—we’re even forced to sleep in a freezing storage unit!"

Mr. Wijaya closed in as well, his deeply lined face bowed low. "Bella, I was wrong. I was far too greedy. But no matter what, we are family. Please... ask your husband to give us back the company. We can start all over again."

Bella looked down at them with a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. A wave of pity surged within her, but the memories of how they had treated Aris for a whole year—and how callously they had discarded her the moment they went bankrupt—hardened her heart once more.

"Father, Mother," Bella’s voice was calm, yet chillingly distant. "Where were you when I had nowhere to live? Where were you when you tried to auction off my apartment just to settle your own debts?"

"That... that was because we were desperate!" Mr. Wijaya stammered in self-defense.

Suddenly, firm, heavy footsteps echoed through the hall. Aris emerged from the doorway and stood right beside Bella. His mere presence caused the temperature in the room to drop instantly. Mr. Wijaya and Mrs. Ratna froze on the spot, sheer terror flashing in their eyes.

Aris looked down at them with a flat, emotionless gaze, as if viewing worthless insects. "So, you want your wealth back?"

Mr. Wijaya nodded frantically. "Yes! Yes, Aris! Give us a second chance!"

Aris let out a soft chuckle—a sound completely devoid of warmth. He pulled up a chair and sat facing them, crossing his legs with effortless grace.

"I could restore your luxury. In fact, I could make you far wealthier than you ever were before," Aris said, intentionally letting his sentence hang in the air.

Mrs. Ratna was on the verge of cheering in delight, but Aris’s icy glare silenced her instantly.

"However," Aris continued, his voice dropping into a deadly, low whisper, "you must pay the price. For a whole year, you treated your poor son-in-law like trash, didn't you? You insulted him, threw water in his face, and kicked him out."

Aris pointed a finger toward Bella.

"If you want me to hand that company back, you will drop to your knees in front of Bella. Not just a simple bow—get down on your knees sincerely and beg for forgiveness for every single insult you hurled at us over the past year. If I see even a fraction of pride left in your knees, don't expect to see a single cent of my fortune."

A suffocating silence fell over the room. Mrs. Ratna’s eyes widened; her hopeful expression twisted into a flush of humiliation and rage. "What?! You're insane! We are her parents! How could we possibly kneel before our own daughter?!"

"Oh, is that so?" Aris stood up and turned to walk away. "Then feel free to show yourselves out. Life on the streets will surely teach you a far better lesson in humility than any words from my mouth."

"Wait!" Mr. Wijaya screamed out. He looked at his wife, then turned a desperate gaze toward Bella.

Cold sweat drenched Mr. Wijaya’s forehead. His pride as a once-respected businessman was on the line. Yet, an empty stomach and the brutal reality of living in a slum were infinitely more terrifying than a shattered ego.

Slowly, Mr. Wijaya bent his legs. He fell to his knees on the plush Persian rug. Seeing her husband on his knees, Mrs. Ratna finally collapsed beside him, weeping bitterly.

"Bella... forgive your father," Mr. Wijaya’s voice sounded raspy and broken. "Forgive us for mistreating you both. We regret it deeply."

Bella stood frozen. She looked down at the parents she had once placed on a pedestal, the parents who had always forced her to bend to their every whim, now lying at her feet in the most degraded position imaginable.

Instead of feeling victorious, Bella felt a crushing tightness in her chest. She turned her eyes to Aris, who stood with his arms crossed, watching the scene without blinking.

"Are you satisfied now, Aris?" Bella asked softly, without looking directly at him.

Aris looked at Bella. In her eyes, he saw her resentment fading, only to be replaced by a terrifying, hollow void. It struck Aris then that taking revenge this way might have been his greatest mistake. He had wanted to protect Bella, yet he had forced her to witness the brutal, soul-crushing humiliation of her own parents.

"I did this for you, Bella," Aris answered quietly.

"No," Bella shook her head slowly. "You did this for yourself, Aris. So you could feel like you won."

Bella turned around and walked out of the room, leaving her parents still kneeling on the floor, and leaving Aris behind to bear the heavy, agonizing burden of this bitter victory.