The CEO's Dirty Secret: Why the Billionaire Is Hiding?

The crystal chandeliers of the Grand Meridian ballroom in Medan hummed with the vibration of a hundred expensive conversations. Ginting stood near the center pillar, his knuckles white as he gripped a flute of vintage champagne. He was waiting for Elvina Tarigan—the woman who held the keys to his firm’s future.

"You look like you're waiting for an execution, Ginting," a voice drawled from behind him.

Ginting spun around. Rian stood there, looking infuriatingly relaxed in a bespoke tuxedo that cost more than Ginting’s first motorcycle.

"Rian. What the hell are you doing here? This is an invite-only industry mixer."

"I like the music," Rian said, signaling a passing waiter for a drink. "Besides, I heard you were trying to close the Danau Toba deal tonight. Thought I’d come see the wreckage."

"It’s not wreckage. It’s a done deal. Elvina is just finishing a meeting upstairs."

"Is that right? Because I saw her in the lobby five minutes ago. She looked bored to tears."

Ginting’s jaw tightened. "She’s not bored. She’s professional. Something you wouldn't understand."

"Professionalism is just a fancy word for people who don't know how to have fun," Rian smirked. "You’ve been talking numbers for three weeks, haven't you? Bore her to death, and she’ll run straight into the arms of the first person who offers her a martini and a laugh."

"Get out, Rian. Before I have security remove you."

"Relax. I’m just here to mingle."

The ballroom doors swung open, and the crowd parted. Elvina Tarigan entered, looking every bit the ruthless negotiator she was. Her eyes scanned the room, landing instantly on Ginting. She walked over, her expression unreadable.

"Mr. Surbakti," Elvina said, nodding at Ginting.

"Elvina. I’m glad you could make it. I have the updated contract right here."

"Actually, Ginting," she interrupted, "I was hoping to take a break from the paperwork. It’s been a long day."

"I understand," Ginting said quickly. "We can discuss the clauses over dinner later."

"Or," Rian stepped into the spotlight, sliding between them with a predatory grace, "we could do something a little less... beige."

Elvina looked at Rian, her eyebrows arching. "And you are?"

"Rian Sitepu. I heard the talk of your firm’s expansion is the only thing worth discussing in this city. I’d love to hear your take on the infrastructure requirements."

Ginting cut in, "Elvina, don't listen to him. He’s just here to disrupt."

"Disrupt is such a harsh word," Rian said, turning to Elvina with a disarming grin. "I’m an admirer of your strategy. I’ve been following your recent acquisitions. Bold."

Elvina’s lips kurked into a faint smile. "Bold usually comes with a price tag, Mr. Sitepu."

"I’ve always found that the best investments are the ones people are too afraid to make," Rian countered, leaning in slightly. "Let’s skip the contract talk. I have a private rooftop table reserved at the Cambridge Sky Lounge. The view of Medan is significantly better than this ballroom."

"A rooftop?" Elvina looked at Ginting, then back at Rian. "I have a board meeting at seven."

"It’s five now," Rian said smoothly. "We can get you there, get you fed, and get you back before you even miss the morning news. What do you think?"

"Ginting?" Elvina asked, testing him.

"You can't be serious," Ginting hissed. "We have a schedule, Elvina. We discussed this."

"I think the schedule can wait for a drink, don't you?" Elvina stepped away from Ginting, turning toward Rian. "Show me the view, Mr. Sitepu."

Ginting reached out, his hand hovering in the air. "Elvina, don't do this. He’s trying to undercut the bid."

"I'm just offering a better experience," Rian winked, already guiding her toward the exit. "Don't worry, Ginting. I’ll make sure to send you a postcard when we sign the partnership papers."

Ginting watched them vanish into the throng of people. The room felt suddenly cold. He had worked six months for this moment, and in sixty seconds, it had been dismantled by a man who treated business like a game of poker.

He stepped toward the bar, his hands trembling as he poured himself a neat whiskey. The laughter from the far side of the room—Rian’s laughter—cut through the ambient noise like a serrated blade.

He leaned against the dark wood of the bar, trying to steady his breathing. He pulled out his phone to check the time, his thumb hovering over his gallery as he sought a distraction.

His wallpaper flickered on.

It wasn't a graph. It wasn't a business logo. It was a candid, slightly blurry photo of a woman laughing in Merdeka Walk—someone who looked nothing like the polished moguls he spent his life chasing.

A shadow fell over his phone. Ginting snapped the screen off, his heart hammering against his ribs.

"Nice photo," Rian said, appearing out of nowhere, his tone suddenly devoid of its playful edge.

Ginting looked up, finding Rian’s eyes fixed intently on his phone screen. The confidence that usually defined Rian had vanished, replaced by a strange, piercing curiosity.

"Mind your business," Ginting snapped.

"I know that face, Ginting," Rian murmured, leaning down so only Ginting could hear. "But she’s not the type for a guy like you, is she? Not if you keep playing the corporate shark."

Ginting felt the air leave his lungs. "How do you know her?"

Rian smiled, but it was cold—a victory lap before the finish line. "Let's just say we’ve been keeping the same company lately."