The CEO's Synthetic Pawn: A Marriage of Deception

The Charade Begins

The black ink flowed across the contract as if spilling the remains of Sony's life. As soon as the pen was lifted, a group of people in neat suits moved with mechanical speed. There were no congratulations, no warm handshakes. There was only the roar of the luxury car engines waiting in the Baskoro building lobby.

Sony was tossed into the back seat of a glossy black sedan. Aruna sat beside him, her body stiff, her face contorted with a hidden rage masked by layers of expensive makeup. The sharp scent of jasmine perfume from Aruna's body felt like tear gas in the cramped space of the car.

"Remember one thing, Sony," Aruna broke the silence without even looking his way. "From this second on, you are the property of the Baskoro family. If you dare make a mistake even by an inch, I won't wait for Baskoro to destroy you. I will personally ensure you never see the sun again."

Sony stared out the window. The tall buildings of Jakarta passed by like black shadows swallowing him whole. "I’ve already sold my life, Aruna. Don't give me a lecture on consequences."

Aruna turned, her eyes flashing sharply. "Good that you realize it. Because when we get home, my father has already invited several business colleagues and specific media outlets for a 'private wedding' photo session. You just need to smile, nod, and keep your mouth shut. Don't ever try to be a hero by telling your pathetic life story."

The car stopped in front of a mansion that looked more like a fortress than a home. A massive crystal chandelier in the foyer emitted a blinding light. There stood Baskoro, waiting in a tuxedo that looked sharper than a razor blade.

When the door opened, a valet in white gloves held it for him. Sony stepped out, his feet feeling heavy. He was still wearing his technician’s shirt, slightly wrinkled despite his best efforts to smooth it out. His appearance was a dark smudge on this sterile white canvas.

"Father," Aruna’s demeanor changed drastically. Her voice grew soft, spoiled, and full of obedience—a performance that made Sony feel nauseous.

Baskoro didn’t acknowledge his daughter’s greeting. He fixed his gaze directly on Sony. "Your clothes will be changed. A tailor is waiting on the second floor. You have fifteen minutes to transform yourself into a son-in-law worthy of the Baskoro Group."

"I just want to make sure my mother "

"Your mother has already been moved to a VVIP room at Medika Hospital," Baskoro cut him off coldly. "A top medical team is already attending to her. If you don’t want them to stop working this very second, do as you’re told."

Sony clenched his fists inside his pockets. He felt like a robot being reassembled. Without a word, he was led to the second floor by two male guards.

The dressing room was perhaps three times the size of Sony’s entire house. A thin man with a measuring tape draped around his neck approached immediately. Without ceremony, Sony’s shirt was stripped off. He felt humiliated, but the memory of his mother’s pale face in the hospital bed kept him from punching the man.

"Perfect," the tailor muttered after fitting Sony into a sleek black suit. "Young Master Sony, you have an excellent physique. It’s a shame your face looks like someone who just lost a war."

Sony didn't answer. He just stared at his reflection in the giant mirror. Who was this man? He looked like a stranger. Someone in a suit worth tens of thousands of dollars, yet his eyes remained those of a man trapped in a hellhole.

When he returned to the foyer, the atmosphere had changed. Several men in dark suits, looking like lawyers and corporate executives, stood with wine glasses in hand. Aruna had changed into a wedding gown—simple yet elegant—the image of a pure girl struck by misfortune.

As soon as Sony stepped onto the marble floor, all eyes turned toward him. There were looks of disdain, hushed whispers, but everything stopped when Baskoro cleared his throat.

"Friends," Baskoro began his speech, his voice heavy and authoritative. "This is Sony. The man who will be my daughter’s companion. We decided this wedding must be held privately to ensure Aruna’s peace of mind during her pregnancy."

Sony walked closer, right to Aruna’s side. Aruna grabbed Sony’s arm with a gesture that looked affectionate from a camera’s perspective, but her nails dug into Sony’s skin with great force, a silent warning.

"Smile, darling," Aruna whispered in a sugary-sweet voice. "Remember, you’re playing the role of the best actor in the world right now."

Sony curled the corner of his lip, a bitter smirk captured by the photographer Baskoro had hired. Click. Click. Click. The flashes of light pierced his eyes, feeling like a police interrogation.

"Are you sure about this, son?" whispered one of Baskoro’s colleagues standing next to Sony, an old man with a sly face. "Looking at you, I’m not so sure you come from a background that is... a match for Aruna."

Sony looked at the man, then turned to Baskoro, who was watching him from afar. He realized this charade wasn't just about Aruna. It was about how he had to survive among predators ready to tear him apart at any moment.

"Love doesn’t always look at backgrounds, does it?" Sony replied in a voice that was calm yet cold. Aruna flinched beside him, startled by Sony’s boldness.

The event continued with an exchange of rings that felt cold and lifeless. There were no sacred vows, no tears of joy. There was only a transaction. Once the small ceremony was over, Baskoro signaled his staff to dismiss the guests.

In an instant, the room was silent again. Only the Baskoro family and Sony remained.

"Good," Baskoro said, placing his crystal glass on the table. "Tomorrow, you will start coming to the office with me. You will learn how to be a good husband in public. And Aruna, make sure he doesn’t cause any trouble."

Baskoro walked away, leaving Sony and Aruna in the middle of the grand room. Aruna released her grip, her face turning to hatred in a split second.

"You dared to speak to my father’s colleague like that?" Aruna hissed, stepping toward Sony until their chests nearly touched. "Who gave you permission to improvise?"

Sony looked Aruna straight in the eye. He was no longer afraid. "If I just stay quiet, people will trample over me even harder. If I have to be an actor, then I’ll be an actor they can’t underestimate."

Aruna laughed cynically. She pulled a tablet from her small bag and threw it onto the sofa. "In that case, watch this. Before you get too confident in your role."

Sony picked up the tablet. The screen lit up, showing CCTV footage from a luxury hotel out of town—a place he had never been. In the recording, Aruna appeared to be talking to someone whose face was obscured by a hat and a mask.

Sony’s heart raced when he saw Aruna on the screen handing a black envelope to the man—the exact same envelope Baskoro had given him earlier.

"That is the man who actually got me pregnant," Aruna whispered directly into Sony’s ear, her voice sounding like a snake’s hiss. "And guess what happened after I gave him that money? He never made it out of that hotel alive."

Sony felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up. He looked at Aruna; the woman in front of him wasn't just arrogant or manipulative. She was dangerous.

"Do you still want to be the lead actor in this play, Sony?" Aruna asked with a lethal smile. "Ordo you want to be the next victim?"