The CEO's Synthetic Pawn: A Marriage of Deception

Public Pressure

The crystal chandeliers in the ballroom seemed to shine directly into the pit of Sony's stomach. Ten minutes. That was all the time left before a specialist would take the stage and expose the most risky charade of his life.

Aruna was still trembling on the balcony floor. Her expensive dress was rumpled, and she was gasping for air as if the oxygen in the room had been sucked out. Sony stared at the tightly closed glass doors. Behind them, hundreds of eyes from Jakarta’s elite were waiting for the "performance" Baskoro had prepared.

"Aruna, get up," Sony gripped the woman’s arm, pulling her up roughly. "We don’t have time for tears."

"We’re finished, Sony," Aruna whispered, her eyes blankly staring at the glittering city lights. "The moment that doctor puts an ultrasound on my stomach, it's over. My father won't let us leave this building alive."

Sony didn't answer. He glanced at his expensive watcha borrowed piece from Baskoro's personal collection. Eight minutes left. He racked his brain. As a technician, he knew that every system, no matter how perfect, always had a backdoor or a flaw. He had to cause a malfunction to get the event canceled.

"Where is the control room for the audio and lighting systems?" Sony asked quickly.

Aruna looked up, her swollen eyes staring at Sony in a daze. "Why?"

"Answer me!"

"Downstairs, near the service area next to the stage. Why, Sony? Don’t tell me you’re going to blow up this hotel!"

Sony didn't answer. He shed his tuxedo jacket, leaving only his white shirt, which was already damp with sweat. He looked at Aruna with an intensity that silenced her.

"Wait for me here. Don't let anyone see that you're afraid. Put on your mask, Aruna. If I fail, you have to do something to keep that doctor from getting near you."

Sony didn't wait for an answer. He pushed open the balcony doors and slipped back into the crowd. The orchestral music that had been soothing earlier now sounded like the ticking of a clock counting down the remaining moments of his life. He avoided the gaze of Baskoro, who stood on the stage, and moved quickly toward the service hallway behind the thick velvet curtains.

Sony's pace faltered when he saw two of Baskoro's guards standing in front of the control room door. Damn it. Baskoro had anticipated his move.

Sony turned around, looking for another way. He spotted an electrical wiring panel on the hallway wall. This was it. With practiced ease, Sony pulled out a small multi-tool he always carried in his pocket—an old habit from his difficult days as a field technician. He pried open the panel cover. The copper wires coiled inside were the lifeblood of this ballroom.

He didn't need to destroy the system entirely; he just needed to trigger a local short circuit that would shut down the main audio and projector right as the doctor was about to step up.

"Where do you think you're going, dear son-in-law?"

That deep voice brought Sony's hands to a halt. He turned slowly. Mr. Gunawan stood there, staring at him with a cold, utterly unfriendly smirk. Behind the man, two large bodyguards stood ready, their hands tucked inside their suit jackets.

"Mr. Gunawan," Sony greeted, struggling to keep his voice steady. "I was just... getting some fresh air. The room was getting too crowded for me."

"Fresh air?" Gunawan stepped closer, the scent of his expensive cigar stinging Sony's nose. "You look quite busy with those cables. Are you a technician, or are you trying to fix something that isn't actually broken?"

Sony froze. He realized that Mr. Gunawan wasn't just an investor. This man was a spy hired by Baskoro to watch his every move.

"I was just—"

"Don't lie, Sony," Gunawan interrupted. He patted Sony's shoulder hard, as if pressing a self-destruct button. "We know who you are. Your mother's debt, her hospital condition, even the apartment Baskoro promised you. It’s all just a minor script. But there is one thing Baskoro doesn't know... I have different interests than that man."

Gunawan whispered into Sony's ear, his voice as cold as ice. "Hand over the original data regarding Aruna's pregnancy to me. If you give it to me now, I will guarantee your mother lives safely out of Baskoro's reach. But if you keep playing this charade, I’ll make sure you and your mother never see tomorrow morning’s sun."

Sony’s heart felt as though it had stopped beating. He hadn't expected his enemies to multiply. Baskoro wasn't the only predator in this room.

"I don't have any data," Sony replied flatly.

Gunawan laughed cynically. He signaled his bodyguards to move forward. Sony had no choice. He grabbed an exposed copper wire from the wall panel and struck it against an iron pipe touching the floor.

Zzzzt!

A massive spray of sparks exploded, automatically triggering the building's fire alarm. The siren wailed, the ballroom lights cut out instantly, and the ceiling sprinklers began to spray down in a deluge.

Chaos erupted instantly. Guests screamed, chairs overturned, and total darkness enveloped the room. Sony didn't waste the opportunity. Amidst the panic, he lunged past Gunawan’s guards and ran toward the stage.

He had to find Aruna.

Through the mist of the spraying sprinklers, Sony saw a woman in a navy dress running through the crowd. Aruna looked confused, her face drenched with water, but she seemed to be searching for an exit.

Sony grabbed Aruna's hand, dragging her through the crowd of panicked guests. However, just as they almost reached the side exit, a pair of powerful hands choked Sony’s back collar and yanked him backward with inhuman strength.

It was Baskoro. The old man's face was flushed deep red with rage.

"You think you can run from me?" Baskoro growled.

"Father, let go!" Aruna screamed, but Baskoro ignored her. He pulled a small pistol from inside his jacket and pressed it directly against Sony's temple.

"You think you can ruin my event, boy?" Baskoro whispered.

Aruna froze; the gun was real. Around them, bodyguards had already surrounded them. There was no longer a way out.

"Wait, Father!" Aruna suddenly cried out, her voice trembling but sharp. "If you kill him now, the entire media will know what’s really happening! Look over there!"

Aruna pointed toward the large screen on the stage, which was still glowing dimly on backup power. There, instead of pregnancy data, a video recording was playing. It was a recording of Baskoro ordering his men to eliminate someone at the hotel last month.

Baskoro turned toward the screen, his face turning deathly pale. "Who uploaded this?"

Sony smiled, even though his temple felt cold against the muzzle of the gun. "I’m a technician, Baskoro. I don't just hack cables; I can hack everything you try to hide."

Baskoro trembled, his gun wavering slightly. He looked around, realizing that dozens of guests' phones were now aimed at the stage, recording everything.

"You..." Baskoro hissed.

But before Baskoro could pull the trigger, someone in the middle of the crowd who had been pretending to panic pulled out a weapon and fired a shot at the chandelier directly above Baskoro's head.

BANG!

Glass shattered, and the massive light fixture fell onto the stage, creating an explosion of dust and total chaos. Sony took advantage of the darkness to grab Aruna’s hand and run as fast as possible toward the emergency hallway.

They burst through the exit, running down the narrow alley behind the hotel. However, just as they reached the car, Sony stopped. He saw something that made his blood freeze.

Two black sedans were already waiting there, blocking the exit. And from one of the cars, a man stepped out. It was the man from the hotel video—the man who was supposed to have been killed by Aruna’s hitman.

The man smiled broadly, staring at them with a gaze full of hatred.

"Surprise," the man murmured as he cocked his weapon.

Aruna stood frozen. All the color drained from her face. "Impossible... you’re supposed to be dead."

"Baskoro never gets the job done right, Aruna," the man stepped forward, followed by the sound of other car doors opening.

Sony realized they were trapped between two devils: Baskoro behind them, who was now recovering from the chaos, and Aruna's former lover right in front of them with a gun ready to spit lead.

"Now," the man whispered, "who will you choose to end this charade?"

Sony looked at Aruna, then at the weapon pointed at him. He realized this charadewas no longer about who was pregnant or who was rich.