Sekar's assertion of the new work-hour boundaries yesterday had succeeded, but it provided only a veneer of security. In the office, she had regained autonomy over her personal space. Yet tonight, that boundary meant almost nothing.
It was 6:30 PM. They were not at Farhan's penthouse. They were in the VIP room of a five-star hotel, a location chosen strategically for a meeting that had to remain far from the public eye and, most importantly, from Rival's ears. Farhan wore his sharpest suit, reflecting the tension of the negotiations at hand a multi-trillion rupiah acquisition deal, extremely sensitive and prone to leaks.
Sekar sat beside Farhan, not as a wife clutching his hand, but as a strategic warfare specialist armed with countless digital files. Tonight, her shield had to withstand not only Farhan's control, but also the hawk eyes of third parties.
Though physically close, Sekar had psychologically distanced herself, creating a silent void that tested Farhan's patience. Farhan noticed that whenever he looked at her, Sekar was focused on her laptop, avoiding eye contact, fully embodying the Perfect Secretary efficient and drama-free.
"Are you sure you've prepared for all worst-case scenarios, Sekar?" Farhan asked quietly, his tone slightly shifting from the rigid CEO persona.
Sekar responded without hesitation, not lifting her gaze from the screen, noting that the 7:00 PM boundary was only thirty minutes away. "Everything is attached in Project Alpha. Variables A through Z, with liquidity backups for scenario Q. I assure you, Mr. Farhan, you only need to decide: fight or yield."
Farhan leaned forward, ignoring the tension between them, now perceiving their dynamic more as aggressive business than personal interaction. "You always use war diction."
"At this level, Mr. Farhan," Sekar replied, finally meeting his gaze with clear business eyes, "business is war without weapons. And you need a commander who is unemotional."
Three negotiators from the target company entered. Among them, Farhan froze Rival, the man he had once ousted from Raksamudra's Board, appeared as an unexpected consultant. This was no coincidence; it was a trap Farhan hadn't anticipated.
Rival greeted Farhan with a cold smile. "Didn't expect to meet here, Farhan. I hear, for a deal this significant, you even brought your wife or personal secretary? Which is it tonight, Madam?" Rival deliberately blurred Sekar's status to create uncertainty.
Sekar smiled politely. "Both, Sir. And most importantly: the holder of backup data keys and the risk controller for this transaction," she replied calmly, asserting her role not as a companion, but as a safeguard.
The meeting began with a veneer of civility masking hostility. The opposing party presented data that seemed advantageous to them, twisting facts about asset valuations, hoping Farhan would stumble over complex technical details.
Amid heated debates over tax structures and hidden liabilities, one negotiator presented a lowball offer, packaged in a highly convincing PowerPoint. Farhan was ready to counter, armed with pre-prepared figures.
Suddenly, Sekar placed her hand on Farhan's arm a subtle breach of protocol, so quick that only he felt it then swiftly nudged her laptop forward, highlighting a small data graph on his screen.
Her voice was near-flat, yet every word carried sharp authority. "Gentlemen, there is a data discrepancy here. Looking at the 5-year projections, particularly in the Green Technology segment 40% of the assets we're offering tonight the real growth rate you used is 4.5%. According to our independent research, the actual market growth in the last quarter reached 6.8%. That 2.3% difference renders your offer… insufficient. Equivalent to an 80-billion rupiah undervaluation."
The room fell silent. The opposition exchanged glances, unprepared for a secretary or contract wife to analyze data with such depth, not merely recalling, but processing it on the spot.
Farhan looked at the highlighted graph Sekar had indicated, barely glanced at during preparation. Sekar had not only memorized the figures she understood their smallest implications. With Sekar's insight, Farhan now wielded the weapon he needed.
"Madam Raksamudra is correct," Farhan said, his voice regaining dominance, reinforced by Sekar's absolute certainty. "We will use the 6.8% figure. No further discussion until the valuation is corrected."
The negotiation was nearly concluded. Thanks to Farhan's decisiveness and Sekar's data expertise, they forced the opposing side to acknowledge their minor defeat and continue the negotiation under terms more favorable to Raksamudra Group. Sekar had saved the deal.
During a break for data correction, Rival approached Farhan, keeping a seemingly polite distance, yet close enough to plant subtle doubt.
"Your wife is very clever, Farhan," Rival whispered, praise laced with warning. "Too clever, perhaps. I remember her as a mere secretary you hired. Now, she understands your company's financials as if she was born there."
Farhan didn't avert his gaze from Sekar, now calm and back in her cold professional posture. "I simply choose competent employees, Rival."
"Of course. But a secretary forced into marriage for money, now with access to every weakness in your company, and that sharp a mind… that's no employee, Farhan. That's the greatest risk you've ever taken. Hired intelligence always carries dual loyalties. She's loyal to her paycheck."
Rival walked away, leaving Farhan with a shadow of doubt. Logically, Rival was right Sekar's loyalty was transactional, motivated by financial need for her mother. A higher bidder could theoretically draw her away.
Yet Farhan looked at Sekar again. She sat upright, typing a concise summary of the opponent's errors. She appeared intensely focused, supremely efficient. In Farhan's eyes, her brilliance tonight was not that of a traitor it was the brilliance of an irreplaceable architect. Her presence was no longer merely about fulfilling a will or his emotional stability. She was a partner safeguarding Farhan's wealth a partner Farhan hadn't anticipated.
Farhan approached her desk. "Sekar."
"Yes, Mr. Farhan?" Sekar responded, lifting her head.
"The touch on my arm earlier… was that a breach of domestic or professional protocol?" Farhan asked, testing the new boundary, probing where Sekar placed her priorities under real pressure.
Sekar held the hand that had brushed his arm. "It was a necessary action to maximize your profit, Sir. This is a business meeting. I assessed the risk and deemed it worthwhile. Not personal."
"I see." Farhan restrained a satisfied smile. Sekar had justified closeness in business terms. It was his language. "Most people would hide under the table during a negotiation this intense."
Sekar closed her laptop, completing her day's work as the negotiation was postponed. "I am not most people, Sir. You yourself demanded I be the Perfect Secretary. Perfect in every role, including that of a contract wife."
Farhan was silent. He saw Sekar's discipline, her brutal dedication to professionalism, now challenging him both intellectually and emotionally.
As they walked out of the meeting room, Farhan stepped slightly behind Sekar. His heart felt warm not from dominance, but from a recognition he refused to acknowledge.
He had spent months seeing Sekar merely as a compliant pawn. Tonight, that pawn had moved beyond the rules, surpassing her player, and saved the entire game.
In that quiet corridor, under the glow of expensive crystal lights, Farhan Raksamudra finally admitted a disturbing truth about the woman bound to him by contract:
"Sekar is more than I imagined."