Chapter 20 – Threads of Deception
Chapter 20 – Threads of Deception
Chapter 20 – Threads of Deception
Rain swept across the city in thin, slanted lines the next morning, turning the glass façade of Azhari Group’s headquarters into a blurred mirror.
Nadira was already in Reyhan’s office when he arrived, her laptop open, a cluster of documents spread across the conference table. She didn’t look up immediately—her fingers were flying over the keys, her brow furrowed in concentration.
“Good morning,” he said, his voice carrying a low edge that matched the weather.
“Morning,” she replied, still typing. “I think I’ve found something.”
That was enough to make him cross the room and stand behind her chair. On the screen was a complex flow chart—companies linked by thin, color-coded lines, some branching off like tangled vines.
“This,” she said, pointing to a small logistics firm near the bottom, “is Kencana Freight. On paper, they’re nothing—twenty employees, small regional contracts. But they’ve suddenly funneled nearly five million dollars into a joint venture with Bahari Infrastructure.”
Reyhan’s eyes narrowed. “Bahari’s one of the minor bidders on Port Sagara.”
“Exactly. And here’s where it gets interesting—Kencana’s owner is technically a man named Haryo Santoso. But Haryo’s last five business ventures were all financed through a shell company registered in the Cayman Islands.”
Reyhan leaned in. “Let me guess—Elena.”
Nadira shook her head. “Not directly. The Cayman account is under a trust. But the trust is managed by a legal firm… the same one Dimas used when he acquired his first shares in Azhari Group.”
That was all he needed to hear. “So they’re laundering influence. Keeping themselves out of the official paperwork.”
“And,” Nadira added, scrolling down, “there’s another thread—Haryo’s sister works for Elena’s charitable foundation. So, technically, nothing illegal. But it ties them together in ways they can’t deny if confronted.”
\---
Reyhan straightened, his mind already shifting gears. “We can’t move on this yet. We need proof that Kencana’s money is being used to buy influence in the bid process.”
Nadira turned in her chair to face him fully. “Which means we need someone on the inside of the Port Sagara negotiations.”
He gave a small, humorless smile. “We already have one.”
Her eyes widened slightly. “You mean—?”
“Yes. Board member Sutanto. He owes me a favor… and he’s on the oversight committee for the bidding process.”
Nadira tapped her pen against the desk. “Then the question is—how do we get him to talk without making him realize just how much we already know?”
\---
By mid-afternoon, they had their opportunity. Sutanto had been scheduled for a private meeting with Reyhan regarding unrelated supply chain issues. Nadira made sure she was present, her role officially to “take minutes.”
The meeting began innocuously enough—charts, numbers, minor contract adjustments. But Reyhan, ever the strategist, let the conversation drift toward the upcoming Port Sagara bid.
“I imagine you’ve been getting a lot of… attention from the smaller players,” he said casually.
Sutanto chuckled, but it was the kind of laugh that covered discomfort. “You could say that. Everyone wants a seat at the table.”
“Even those who shouldn’t,” Reyhan said, letting the words hang in the air.
Sutanto hesitated, his fingers tapping the edge of his folder. “Well… there are always people who think money can buy their way in.”
Nadira, silent until now, looked up from her notes. “And sometimes it can—if no one’s watching closely enough.”
The older man’s gaze flicked to her, then back to Reyhan. “Are you implying something?”
Reyhan leaned forward, his voice even. “I’m saying there are whispers about certain bids being… supported by unusual sources. I’d hate for the committee’s integrity to be questioned.”
Sutanto shifted in his seat. “If I were you, I’d keep my ears open at the pre-bid reception next week. That’s when people get careless. Especially after the second glass of wine.”
And just like that, the thread tightened.
\---
After Sutanto left, Nadira closed her notebook. “So the reception is our chance.”
“More than that,” Reyhan said. “It’s our chance to make them think we’re not after them. We play polite, we blend in—and we listen.”
Nadira tilted her head. “And if they approach us first?”
“Then,” he said with the faintest smirk, “we let them believe they’re in control.”
\---
The following days were a flurry of preparation. Nadira coordinated travel arrangements, ensured their public schedule was strategically visible, and quietly reached out to a contact in the event’s catering service.
By the time the reception night arrived, she was ready.
The venue was a restored colonial building overlooking the harbor, its white walls and carved wooden shutters glowing under strings of warm lights. Inside, crystal chandeliers cast golden reflections over polished floors, and the air hummed with the sound of polite networking.
Nadira wore a deep emerald dress—elegant without being ostentatious—while Reyhan, as always, looked like authority personified in his tailored black suit. They moved through the room as a unit, pausing to exchange greetings, always within earshot of key players.
\---
Half an hour in, the first lead appeared.
A man in his late forties, flushed from drink, was speaking too loudly to a smaller group near the balcony. “…and trust me, the logistics alone would sink most of these bids. Unless you’ve got friends in freight—then it’s practically a done deal.”
Nadira’s attention sharpened. Freight. Kencana Freight.
She drifted closer, appearing to admire the view beyond the open balcony doors. Reyhan, ever attuned to her movements, joined her, placing his glass on the railing as if casually surveying the harbor.
The man noticed Reyhan and straightened. “Ah, Mr. Azhari! Didn’t see you there. Quite the crowd tonight, eh?”
“Indeed,” Reyhan said smoothly. “Though some seem more confident than others. You, for example.”
The man chuckled, glancing around as though to make sure no one else was listening. “Let’s just say… we know which wheels need greasing.”
Nadira tilted her head slightly. “And those wheels are…?”
The man smirked, lowering his voice. “Not here, Miss Nadira. But perhaps another meeting? I’m sure we could find common interests.”
Reyhan’s expression didn’t change, but his eyes were cold steel. “Send your proposal to my office. If it’s worth my time, you’ll hear back.”
\---
Back inside, Nadira murmured, “He’s connected. He practically confirmed it.”
“Which means,” Reyhan replied, “we now have a name to pull records on. And once we connect him to Kencana, the whole structure starts to unravel.”
\---
By the end of the night, they had gathered fragments of conversations, names, and hints—pieces of a puzzle that, when assembled, could expose the network backing Elena and Dimas.
In the car afterward, Nadira leaned back against the seat. “We’re getting close.”
Reyhan glanced at her, his profile sharp in the passing streetlights. “Close isn’t enough. We need undeniable proof. Something they can’t bury, no matter how much money they throw at it.”
Her lips curved in a faint smile. “Then let’s give them a reason to panic.”
And in that moment, she knew—this wasn’t just a fight for the company anymore. It was personal. For both of them.