Two months had passed since Sekar signed the marriage deed. Two months during which she stacked calm on top of near-perfect obedience, internalizing every domestic and business protocol Farhan had established. Her entire life had become a flawless performance. Time seemed frozen, only the cycle of Farhan's control repeated rigid and predictable ironically providing solace for their respective wounds: Farhan's need for control, Sekar's craving for stability.
Today was the final day of the will's deadline. The day the Marriage Deed, formally legalized before a notary and two lawyers, would be presented to Farhan Raksamudra's world: the Board of Directors. This event was not a wedding, but a legitimacy hearing. No sacred vows were spoken, only contract clauses verified.
In the penthouse living room, the notary read the final testimony. The atmosphere was far from romantic. The scent of strong coffee mingled with premium paper. Sekar, wearing a bone-white dress radiating competence, stood beside Farhan. The ring on her finger felt heavy not due to its material, but the non-emotional promise engraved within.
Farhan looked at her, momentarily seeing Sekar not as a contract wife, but as a masterpiece of risk management. Sekar had eliminated all variables. She was the certainty dreamed of by every CEO obsessed with control.
"Done. This marriage is valid and recognized, according to the will of the late Mr. Raksamudra," the notary said, closing his folder.
"Thank you," Farhan replied coldly. No touch. No celebration. Only transactional validation.
Two hours later, Sekar had changed clothes. A gray suit, eyes sharp and unwavering, and a new role: Mrs. Raksamudra. Not a wife, but Farhan's professional complement at the most crucial event for the Raksamudra Group's continuity.
The meeting was held in a luxurious conference room doubling as a formal dinner hall, where key shareholders and board members gathered. The air pressure in the room felt thick, filled with skeptical glances and rapid assessments.
As Farhan and Sekar entered, silence enveloped the room. The board's eyes scrutinized Sekar, searching for flaws, for inconsistencies. They all knew Sekar was Farhan's legendary personal secretary, yet the status of 'wife' was a leap in social class and legitimacy they struggled to accept.
In a corner of the room, the figure Farhan most wanted to avoid awaited. The Rival. The man identified in Chapter 5 as the most ambitious Board Member, eyeing the Raksamudra throne.
The Rival approached, his smile a mix of false flattery and veiled disdain.
"Farhan, congratulations. Finally, you've found a solution to your father's dilemma. And welcome, Mrs. Raksamudra," Rival said, his tone too sweet.
Sekar shook the Rival's hand with professional composure, though in her mind she had already activated maximum risk analysis mode. She felt the Rival's chill. This was not pleasantry; this was the first public confrontation.
"Thank you, Sir," Sekar replied. "My husband and I are delighted to fulfill the requirements of the will and secure the continuity and stability of the Raksamudra Group."
Farhan felt a strange surge within him a mix of satisfaction and pride. Sekar did not respond with emotion or embarrassment. She spoke corporate language: stability, requirements, will. She positioned this marriage not as a relationship, but as a corporate obligation fulfilled.
Rival chuckled softly. "Stability. Of course. You always choose your words wisely, Mrs. Sekar. As a former extremely efficient secretary, I'm sure you prepared the Marriage Deed perfectly, right?"
The statement was a small bomb, thrown with a smile. The Rival openly questioned Sekar's status, reminding her of her original role. All eyes were on her.
Farhan stepped forward, ready to deliver a sharp rebuttal a corporate counterstrike. But before he could speak, Sekar touched Farhan's arm with a subtle, lethal movement, halting his dominance for a moment.
"Mr. Rival, you are correct," Sekar said, her gaze unwavering, as neutral as a financial report. "I am Farhan Raksamudra's former secretary. And Farhan Raksamudra never risks choosing haphazardly."
She paused briefly, letting her words hang. "Precisely because of my corporate background, I can ensure that this decision this marriage is not merely a matter of the heart, but the best business strategy for the future of the Raksamudra Group. After all, who is more suitable to be a CEO's partner than someone who has understood every risk for years?"
Sekar smiled a cold smile, purely practiced. Farhan, standing beside her, felt slightly shaken. He had never taught Sekar to speak this way, yet she had created a new dialect of compliance: professionalism as personal armor.
The Rival squinted. His frontal attack failed, countered with ruthless and elegant logic. He could only nod, reluctantly admitting defeat in this round.
Throughout the evening, Sekar performed flawlessly. She spoke of Raksamudra's vision, accompanied Farhan without appearing anxious or misstepping. Farhan observed how Sekar executed social manipulation far better than he himself could. He was proud of the product of his control, yet something else disturbed him.
Sekar was too perfect. He no longer saw Sekar, a human with hidden trauma, but Mrs. Raksamudra, an impenetrable entity. Farhan's satisfaction began to be replaced by a vague unease as if his control system had produced a product he did not anticipate: a second personality entirely emotionally sterile.
Toward the end of the event, while Farhan was busy receiving congratulations from other board members, the Rival approached Sekar again.
Sekar sensed the Rival's presence. She squared her shoulders, ready for the next verbal duel.
"Stunning performance, Sekar," Rival praised, his voice husky, close, and dangerous. "Farhan is right. You took no risks. You didn't even risk yourself. Everything was calculated."
The Rival grasped Sekar's hand for a parting handshake, his grip slightly too long, slightly too firm.
"You've indeed earned the title Mrs. Raksamudra. But do you know," Rival whispered softly, for Sekar alone to hear, his eyes still on Farhan across the room, "a secretary elevated to this status can be deceived. I know you don't love him. And more importantly, I know you're only doing this to survive."
Sekar held her breath. The words pierced her professional shield, striking exactly at the vulnerability she had hidden for two months. Farhan saw efficiency, but Rival saw fragility, driven by weakness. Rival grinned, knowing he had reached the core of Sekar's predicament.
Sekar forced the corner of her lips to curve. It was a thin smile, meant to appear cold, yet behind it, her heart raced, beating the drum of anxiety she had long suppressed. The Rival released his grip, satisfied with the impact of his words.
Sekar watched the Rival's back as he walked away, as if she had just glimpsed a weakness in the Contract Deed. She had won the public battle, but the Rival had won the psychological one.
The contract was signed, shares secured. Yet now, the threat no longer came from a dead will, but from a living, breathing antagonist. And Sekar knew the stakes of her contractual relationship had just begun.