Chapter 4 : Trapped by His Own Game
1830 Words
That afternoon, in a small, worn-out house on the edge of Bekasi, the air felt heavy.
The sky hung a dull shade of gray, like it was waiting for something bad to drop.
In the living room, Mrs. Ratna sat on a creaky rattan chair, wrapped in her faded floral dress.
Her eyes were glued to her phone screen—its glass cracked like a spiderweb.
Her fingers tapped quickly, sending a short message to Aruna—her daughter-in-law.
The one she used to proudly brag about to the neighbors for being “good with money” and “never causing trouble for the family.”
> Aruna, can you send some money? Your father’s sick, and the electricity bill hasn’t been paid.
Message sent.
One minute… five minutes… ten minutes…
No blue ticks.
No reply.
A loud sigh slipped from her lips.
“She’s starting to act all high and mighty,” she muttered, placing the phone down on the table.
Mr. Damar, sprawled on the other rattan chair, fanned himself with an old newspaper.
“Back then, she’d send it right away. Now? She doesn’t care. Maybe she’s swimming in money and forgot about us.”
“That’s why I told you—make Raka go back to Aruna’s house,” her tone sharpened.
“If they divorce, what are we gonna eat?”
As if her words had summoned him, the front door creaked open.
Raka stepped inside, looking worn out—tie loose, sweat glistening on his temple.
He tossed his work bag onto the sofa.
“You’re home early?” his mother asked.
“No overtime, Mom. There’s… a problem,” Raka replied.
“Money problem again?” Mr. Damar teased half-heartedly.
Raka let out a slow breath.
“This month I can’t give extra. My salary’s only enough for rent, gas, and food. My bonus… it’s gone.”
Mrs. Ratna’s eyes narrowed.
“Gone? Don’t tell me you gave it to that woman.”
Raka looked away.
His silence was enough of an answer.
“Oh my God, Raka!” she snapped.
“You gave millions to her? Your father’s jobless, the electricity’s about to get cut, your sister’s tuition is overdue—and all this time, Aruna’s been covering for you!”
“Now she’s not replying—what are we supposed to live on?!”
“Please, Mom.” Raka massaged his temple.
“Don’t bring Aruna into this. She… she’s not gonna help anymore. Especially after—”
He stopped, swallowing the rest of his words.
“After what?” she pushed.
“She saw me… with Livia.”
The room fell silent.
Mr. Damar stopped fanning himself, his stare sharp.
“Saw you how?”
“Caught me cheating.”
Mr. Damar’s jaw dropped.
“Raka… do you think this is some TV drama?!”
His palm slammed the table.
“Then fix it! Trick her, make her pity you, lie if you have to.”
“You want the neighbors laughing because my son got kicked out by his wife?!”
Bitter as it sounded, Raka knew his father was right—his family only understood one language.
Money.
And him?
The so-called “breadwinner”?
He was already cracking.
What his family didn’t know was… Aruna was quietly shutting every single door they once used to get into her life.
And once those doors were locked, there was no spare key.
---
Three days later…
At her office, Aruna sat staring at the renovation designs for a hotel lobby on her tablet.
Her phone buzzed.
The name flashed: Rena—Raka’s distant cousin.
She rarely called.
“Hello, Aruna… Sorry to bother you. Raka’s family said they’ve been trying to contact you, but you didn’t reply…”
Aruna leaned back, a faint smile curling on her lips.
“Yeah. I didn’t reply on purpose. Why?”
“They said… the electricity’s about to get cut, his dad’s sick, his sister’s tuition is overdue. They’re asking for help…”
“Help? You mean money?” Aruna cut her off.
Silence for a beat.
“…Yes. They said Raka’s having a hard time too. His salary’s gone for—”
Rena froze mid-sentence, realizing she’d almost slipped.
“For what, Rena?”
Aruna’s voice was calm, but sharp enough to cut.
“I… I’m not sure. They said for family needs.”
A short laugh escaped Aruna.
“If they call again, tell them this: the door is locked, the key is thrown into the ocean, and I’m not diving in to get it back.”
Click.
Call ended.
---
The next evening…
At a fast-food restaurant, Raka sat fidgeting while Livia scrolled through her phone, taking pictures of her meal for i********:.
“You don’t have to worry,” she said casually, not looking at him.
“Once my boutique gets busier, I’ll help your family.”
“Liv, I’m broke. My bonus is gone, my salary barely lasts the month. My family’s asking for money, and Aruna won’t give a single cent.”
Livia knew Raka had been living off Aruna’s money.
She didn’t care—her ambition was bigger than her guilt.
She smiled faintly.
“Ah, she’s the quiet type. She’ll cry a bit, then forgive you.”
“No, Liv. She’s dangerous when she wants revenge.”
“And I work for a CEO who hates cheaters. If Davin finds out—”
“We’ll just move to another city,” she interrupted like it was nothing.
Raka’s voice rose.
“You think it’s that easy? If Davin finds out, I won’t just get fired—I’ll be blacklisted in the whole industry.”
---
At Varenza Corp…
Tania walked in holding a red folder labeled Confidential.
Inside: the schedule for Raka’s surprise team meeting next week—with one special guest.
Livia, disguised as an “external project consultant.”
None of this was an accident.
Tania had arranged it.
Her text to Aruna was short:
> The bait’s ready. Just waiting for the fish to bite.
Aruna replied almost instantly:
> Make sure Davin’s in the room when the ‘consultant’ walks in. Don’t give Raka a chance to run.
Tania smirked.
This was going to be a front-row show.
---
That evening, at Raka’s parents’ house…
Mrs. Ratna slammed the dining table.
“If you can’t go back to Aruna, at least make her pity you! Tell her you’re sick, or—”
“Mom!” Raka cut in.
“She’s not stupid anymore. All the old tricks won’t work.”
“She’s the one holding the power now.”
Mrs. Ratna’s face turned red.
“Then what will we eat?!”
Raka turned away.
The storm was coming.
But the scariest part?
He didn’t know when Aruna would pull the trigger.
---
Later that night…
In her apartment—bought with her own hard-earned money—Aruna sat on the sofa, laptop open.
Her fingers hovered over an email to Davin.
Not an outright accusation, but a “concern for integrity,” complete with photos of Raka and Livia at a hotel lobby.
Her finger paused over the Send button.
Not yet.
She wanted Raka to walk into the office with his head held high… then watch it crash in front of everyone.
Closing the laptop, she sipped her tea, smiling faintly.
“Tomorrow’s gonna be a long day for you, Raka.”
She then called Cika, her best friend—a doctor—and asked her to help promote the house she’d lived in with Raka for five years.
Aruna wanted it sold.
If her parents asked, she’d tell them everything.
---
The next afternoon…
A luxury car stopped in front of the modest house.
Stepping out was a tall woman in a pastel linen dress, oversized sunglasses covering half her face.
Her heels clicked against the paving stones.
Livia.
Designer bag in one hand, a large paper bag in the other.
Her smile might have seemed sweet—if people didn’t know her real intentions.
Mrs. Ratna rushed to the door.
“Wow, you’re gorgeous! Who might you be?”
Livia took off her glasses.
“Excuse me, Ma’am… I’m Livia, a close friend of Raka’s.”
The way she said close friend left little to the imagination.
“Oh, come in! Raka’s not home yet, but that’s fine.”
Livia set the paper bag on the table.
“Some gifts from my boutique. I own a boutique in Senopati—it’s pretty big. You should visit sometime.”
Mrs. Ratna’s eyes lit up.
“A boutique? Must be expensive.”
Livia laughed softly.
“Alhamdulillah, it’s decent. Oh, and…”
She pulled out a thick white envelope and slid it across the table.
“A little something for this house. Just my way of showing respect to Raka’s parents.”
Mrs. Ratna peeked inside—neatly stacked bills of a hundred thousand rupiah.
She quickly closed it again, almost afraid it might disappear.
“Oh my… this is a lot. Thank you, dear. You have no idea how much this means to us.”
Her tone had completely softened.
From Livia’s look, Mrs. Ratna could tell—this woman wasn’t here for tea.
She was here to take Aruna’s place.
That night…
Livia left with a satisfied smile.
In the car, she typed:
> Rak, meet me at the hotel tonight. It’s important. I need to talk about your family.
His reply came quick:
> Which hotel?
“I’ll send the location,” she wrote back.
Later that night…
Raka walked into the lobby of a five-star hotel in Sudirman, wearing a shirt unbuttoned a little too low.
Upstairs, Livia waited in a deep maroon satin dress hugging every curve.
The city lights sparkled behind her.
“I went to your parents’ house earlier,” she said, handing him a glass of wine.
“Seriously? What did Mom say?”
Livia laughed.
“At first she was stiff… but after I slipped her ten million, she warmed right up.”
“I want your family to know I’m here for you.”
Raka grinned.
“You’re amazing, Liv. Aruna won’t give—”
“Don’t say her name,” she whispered, tugging his collar.
“Tonight, it’s just us.”
Their kisses turned wild, rushed.
Clothes hit the floor.
The air filled with heat and murmurs.
They didn’t know…
Down in the lobby, Cika—Aruna’s best friend—had just spotted Raka heading upstairs.
Her instincts kicked in.
Within minutes, she’d convinced a hotel staff member to “help set up” the same suite.
Three seconds.
That’s all it took to hide a coin-sized camera behind a vase, aimed perfectly at the bed.
From outside, she took a deep breath, hearing their laughter and gasps.
Her phone screen lit up—the camera was rolling.
This… was the golden bullet Aruna had been waiting for.
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