The CEO's Synthetic Pawn: A Marriage of Deception

Secrets Behind the Bedroom Door

The Baskoro mansion felt like a marble-lined coffin. Cold, silent, and suffocating. After a series of exhausting performances in front of business colleagues, Sony was finally ushered into the master bedroom, which was large enough to swallow his entire subsidized apartment.

The teak door closed with a final click. Aruna immediately kicked off her high heels, tossing them carelessly until they hit the wall. The mask of the graceful woman she had worn all day dissolved instantly, replaced by the expression of a weary predator.

"Listen, servant," Aruna walked toward the vanity, reaching for a glass of ice water without even looking back. "The rules of engagement in this room are simple. You sleep on the sofa. Don’t ever touch me, don’t ever speak unless I ask, and don’t ever expect some romantic 'wedding night' here."

Sony stood frozen near the door. His eyes swept across the room. Luxurious, yet it felt like a prison. He remembered Aruna’s threat about the man at the hotel. A chill still crawled down his spine, but his technician’s instincts slowly took over. He was a man used to fixing broken systems, and right now, he was inside Aruna’s "system," which was full of holes.

"Why are you so tense?" Sony walked slowly toward the sofa, his voice sounding calmer than he felt. "Are you afraid I’ll do something to that baby of yours?"

Aruna froze. She set her glass down with a sharp clink. She turned around, staring at Sony with narrowed, piercing eyes. "Don’t you dare bring up that baby, Sony. That is none of your business."

"That’s exactly my business now," Sony said, sitting on the edge of the sofa and unbuttoning his shirt cuffs with a slow, provocative motion. "I’ve signed the contract. I am your legal husband in the eyes of the law. If a doctor examines you later and finds no fetus there, or if you’re lying about this pregnancy, it won’t just be you who’s destroyed. It’ll be your father, too."

Aruna laughed a short, humorless sound. She stepped toward Sony, her sharp scent filling his senses. Aruna leaned down, her face only inches from his.

"Playing detective, are we?" Aruna whispered. "Do you think I’m that stupid? Every doctor who examines my pregnancy is one of my father’s confidants. I can manipulate ultrasound results, blood tests, even a fetal heartbeat in seconds. You’re just a lowly technician lucky enough to catch the scent of Baskoro’s money. Don't act so smart."

Sony remained silent, staring at the woman’s elegant neck. Suddenly, he remembered something. When Aruna had stepped out of the car earlier, she had tripped slightly. She hadn't reached for her stomach at all; there was no protective maternal gesture something women usually do subconsciously, even if they’re just pretending.

"You were drinking wine earlier," Sony remarked suddenly.

"What?"

"At the small reception. I saw you drink wine twice. Crystal glass, deep red contents." Sony stood up, now dominating Aruna's personal space. "A woman in her first trimester, especially a perfectionist like you who wants this scandal to go smoothly, wouldn't dare touch alcohol. That would endanger the 'asset' you’re carrying, wouldn't it?"

Aruna flinched. Her eyes widened, but she quickly regained her composure. She took a step back, her breath hitching. "It was fruit juice, you idiot. Don't pretend to know anything about the lifestyle of the rich."

"It was wine. Pinot Noir," Sony said, stepping forward and cornering Aruna against the edge of the bed. "I’m a technician, Aruna. I’m used to paying attention to the smallest details because one wrong bolt can ruin an entire mechanical system. And my observations are never wrong."

Aruna fell silent. She stood frozen, staring at Sony with an unreadable expression. There was a flash of fear caught in her eyes, though it was quickly masked by deep resentment.

"Getting bold, are we?" Aruna reached for a flower vase on the nearby table but hesitated. Instead, she leaned her face close again, her breath hot against Sony’s skin. "Do you really want to know the secret behind this room? Do you want to know why I need a husband like you?"

"Tell me," Sony replied coldly.

Aruna took a long breath. She grabbed Sony’s hand and led him—not toward an embrace, but toward a large, tightly locked wardrobe in the corner of the room. She pulled a small key from behind her necklace.

"Behind this door," Aruna whispered, her voice now trembling strangely between anger and despair. "It’s not expensive clothes. It’s not jewelry. It is something far more valuable than both our lives."

Aruna inserted the key into the lock. Click.

"If you see what’s inside here, Sony Anggara, you won’t have a choice anymore. You’ll be tied to me forever, or you’ll end up like that man at the hotel."

The wardrobe door creaked open, revealing a dim light emanating from within. Sony felt as if his heart had stopped beating. He didn't see piles of cash or secret corporate documents.

Inside, there was a monitor screen connected directly to Baskoro’s study, and on the screen, a video recording was playing in real-time.

Sony froze. On the screen, he saw Baskoro sitting in a dark room, speaking to someone on the phone. Baskoro was holding a pistol, and in front of him lay a file with photos of Sony and his mother, marked with a large red X.

"He knows you're suspicious, Sony," Aruna whispered, tears streaming down her cheeks not out of sadness, but out of sheer panic. "Father never allows anyone to know about my charade. And now, he’s already ordered someone to eliminate you tonight."

Sony turned sharply toward the bedroom window overlooking the mansion’s back garden. There, among the shadows of the pine trees, he saw a small red laser moving slowly, searching for a focal point behind the window glass.

"Get down!" Sony shouted, lunging at Aruna and tackling her to the floor just as the sound of shattering glass thundered through the room.