The Salaryman's Soul-Sucking Contract

Chapter 11: Breakfast with the Board of Predators

Chapter 11: Breakfast with the Board of Predators

The morning sun cast long, unforgiving rays across the polished mahogany of the outdoor terrace at the Puncak retreat. Below, the mist still clung to the pine-studded ravines, but around the breakfast table, the atmosphere was thick with a completely different kind of cold.

Daffa sat to Clarisse’s immediate left, his posture a masterclass in controlled agony. He wore his bespoke charcoal suit like a suit of armor forged from lead, every fiber of his being screaming at him to stand up, throw his coffee at Chairman Armand Bautista, and run down the mountain on foot.

Across from them sat Director Santoso and his hawk-nosed wife, both cutting into their poached eggs with synchronized, rhythmic precision that made Daffa’s teeth ache.

At the head of the table sat Armand Bautista. The Chairman wasn't eating. He was simply stirring his black coffee, his silver hair catching the mountain light, his eyes fixed on Daffa with the dull, lethal curiosity of an apex predator inspecting a mouse that had somehow wandered into its den.

"You look pale, Mr. Wicaksana," Armand remarked, his voice a low, gravelly baritone that cut cleanly through the sound of the wind. "Mountain air doesn't agree with you? Or is the weight of an executive title proving heavier than your portfolio suggested?"

Daffa forced his face into what he hoped looked like a placid, confident smile. Inside, his stomach was a washing machine full of broken glass. He knew about Phase 2: The Scapegoat. He knew that every smile Clarisse offered him across the table was a calculated data point designed to pacify the board while the legal trap door beneath his feet was being greased.

"I’m sleeping just fine, Mr. Bautista," Daffa replied, his voice unnaturally steady. "Though adjusting to the altitude requires a certain... tactical vigilance."

Clarisse didn't look at him. She was buttering a piece of toast with terrifying, surgical precision. The sleeve of her cashmere sweater brushed against Daffa’s wrist, and the phantom heat of her skin from the night before made his chest ache with a bitter, burning rage.

"Vigilance is a good trait in an analyst," Armand said, taking a slow sip of his coffee. "Especially when one's department is handling volatile regional data. Like the North Kalimantan portfolio, for instance."

The knife in Clarisse’s hand paused for a fraction of a second. It was the only tell. To anyone else at the table, she was the epitome of icy, corporate royalty. But Daffa, having spent the last seventy-two hours learning how to read every micro-expression of the Ice Queen, caught it instantly.

"The North Kalimantan numbers are fully audited and secure, Chairman," Clarisse said, her tone smooth as glass. "Daffa cross-referenced the latest logs before we left Jakarta. There are no discrepancies."

"Are you certain of that, Clarisse?" Armand asked, his gaze shifting slowly from Daffa to his daughter. "Because my sources at the port authority suggest that sixteen percent of the Q3 maintenance budget has been drifting into accounts that look remarkably similar to Julian Van der Meer’s shell companies."

Daffa felt the air leave his lungs. Julian.

Even after Daffa had smashed his tablet and threatened him with federal prison, the arrogant heir had apparently left a parting gift. Julian hadn't just relied on blackmail; he had planted a landmine directly under the Bautista family's most sensitive operation, knowing full well that if an audit hit, the blame would point straight to the newly minted Lead Strategic Analyst.

"Julian is grasping at straws," Clarisse said, her voice sharpening just a fraction. "He’s retaliating because the merger fell through. It’s a smear campaign."

"Perhaps," Armand leaned forward, resting his heavy forearms on the table. "Or perhaps we have a leak in our own ranks. Someone who doesn't understand the cost of loyalty in this firm."

Director Santoso cleared his throat, dabbing his mouth with a linen napkin. "If there’s an internal breach, Armand, we need to move fast. The board cannot afford another financial scandal. Especially not involving... unvetted personnel."

The unstated implication hung in the crisp mountain air like a foul odor. Unvetted personnel. They were talking about Daffa. They were already circling the carcass, and the vultures hadn't even waited for him to die.

Daffa looked at Clarisse. She was staring down at her plate, her jaw tight, her fingers clamped around her silverware so hard her knuckles were stark white. He waited for her to step in. He waited for her to deploy the defense she had promised, to shield him with the authority of her Vice Presidency.

Instead, she remained silent.

The silence stretched, long and poisonously heavy. Daffa felt the cold realization settle deep into his bones: Phase 2 was already rolling. Whether she liked it or not, the machinery she had signed off on three days ago was moving forward. When the board demanded a head to appease the regulators, Clarisse wasn't going to stop them. She was going to hand them his on a silver platter, garnished with a cohabitation agreement and a staged audit trail.

A dark, bitter humor bubbled up inside Daffa, burning away the last remnants of the heartbroken fool who had held her in his arms the night before.

Fine, he thought. You want a scapegoat? Let’s see how well your algorithms account for human error.

Daffa set his coffee cup down, the porcelain clinking sharply against the saucer. Every eye at the table snapped to him.

"You seem amused, Mr. Wicaksana," Armand said, his eyes narrowing into cold slits.

"Tidak terhibur, Ketua," kata Daffa, bersandar di kursinya dan menyilangkan kakinya dengan santai yang membuat Direktur Santoso tersentak. "Hanya... terpesona melihat betapa mudahnya semua orang di ruangan ini mengejar hantu sementara pencuri sebenarnya duduk tepat di tempat terbuka."

Kepala Clarisse menoleh ke arahnya, mata gelapnya berkilat dengan kepanikan yang tiba-tiba dan murni. Dia membuka mulutnya untuk berbicara, tetapi Daffa memotongnya, suaranya terdengar jelas dan lantang di seluruh teras.

"Apa yang kau katakan?" tuntut Armand, suaranya merendah satu oktaf saat dia membanting cangkir kopinya.

"Saya sudah bilang kalian semua mencari ke arah yang salah," kata Daffa, sambil mempertahankan kontak mata dengan orang paling berpengaruh di industri fintech Indonesia tanpa gentar. "Julian tidak menemukan perbedaan itu sendiri. Dia tidak meretas server kami dengan bakat semata. Dia punya kunci. Kunci utama internal."

"Jaga ucapanmu, Nak," geram Armand, sambil setengah berdiri dari kursinya.

"Ayah, hentikan," Clarisse menyela, suaranya tajam, menuntut, dan dipenuhi rasa takut yang belum pernah didengar Daffa sebelumnya. Dia memandang Daffa bukan sebagai aset atau kekasih, tetapi sebagai binatang buas yang baru saja menggigit kakinya sendiri untuk meloloskan diri dari jebakan dan sekarang menyerang pemburunya. "Daffa tidak tahu apa yang dia katakan. Dia lelah. Kita akan segera kembali ke Jakarta."

"Tidak, Nona Bautista," kata Daffa, menoleh untuk menatap langsung ke arahnya. Topeng itu telah hilang. Matanya kosong, dingin, dan hampa tanpa apa pun kecuali keinginan mutlak untuk membakar papan di sekitarnya. "Aku belum pernah sesadar ini. Mari kita bicara tentang kunci utama. Mari kita bicara tentang siapa yang mengakses file Kalimantan Utara pada pukul 2:00 pagi tiga malam yang lalu. Karena menurut log server yang kuambil sebelum kita meninggalkan kota, itu bukan Hendra. Dan tentu saja bukan aku."

Suasana di meja itu menjadi hening total, seperti terisolasi dari dunia luar.

Armand Bautista perlahan bersandar kembali ke kursinya, pandangannya beralih dari Daffa ke putrinya, alis peraknya berkerut membentuk cemberut yang menakutkan dan penuh perhitungan. "Kartu identitas siapa itu, Tuan Wicaksana?"

Clarisse tidak bernapas. Dia duduk membeku, wajahnya benar-benar pucat pasi, menyadari terlambat bahwa analis yang coba dia jebak baru saja menulis ulang algoritma tersebut.

Daffa memberikan senyum sinis dan mematikan kepada Ketua, gema paling pahit dari pria yang pernah sangat menginginkan promosi.

"Kenapa kau tidak bertanya pada Wakil Presiden?" kata Daffa pelan. "Lagipula, tanda tangannyalah yang tertera pada perintah pengesampingan utama."