Khun arrived at the small outdoor wooden rest hall for travelers, its worn timbers bearing the marks of time and abandonment. The structure, weathered but striking in its ancient architectural style, stood silent under the shade of towering palms.
Moments later, the hum of another motorbike shattered the stillness. From his hidden perch, Dara's breath caught. It was him—Ta Chek!
Shock coursed through his veins. Why is Ta Chek involved with Monica?
His mind raced. This old man wasn't as harmless as he seemed. Suddenly, the name struck him anew. "Ta Chek," he whispered, the Khmer word for banana.
"For God's sake," he muttered, a wry smile tugging at his lips despite the bitterness rising within.
Was this old man a liar, too?
Dara watched as Ta Chek spoke with Khun, their exchange warm and friendly. He even placed a hand on Khun's shoulder, offering him a pat that seemed to carry an unspoken understanding. They exchanged a brief goodbye before parting ways, each heading in opposite directions.
Without a second thought, Dara slipped from his hiding spot, leaving the delivery man behind. He began to trail Ta Chek, his curiosity driving him every step.
Dara's car hummed steadily along the road, bordered by lush rice fields and lotus farms, a sight that tugged at his heart and brought memories of his mother and the people who once filled this place.
As Ta Chek guided his motorbike along the winding path, he turned onto a narrow, rural road that led to a village, where the bustling downtown stood. It was here, too, where his late mother's garage was located.
Beneath the shade of a tamarind tree, Uncle Rith sat, sipping water and watching the construction workers at their task. Ta Chek slowed his bike and parked beside him. The two men exchanged a quiet greeting, their bond unspoken but understood.
The courtyard stretched wide and open, yet Dara found himself trapped in the confines of his car, unable to step out and overhear the conversation between the two men. He sat motionless, his gaze fixed on them, anxiety knotting in his chest.
Uncle Rith handed Ta Chek a chilled bottle of water, and Ta Chek took a deep breath before speaking.
"Ah Khun's story is out now," he said quietly. "Your nephew knows."
Rith's response was calm, his expression unreadable. "I see."
"So, what is your next plan?"
"Hmm I am thinking…"
Ta Chek's voice was grave. "Your sister is dead, and it wasn't suicide. She was murdered. You've been careless in seeking justice for her—and for finding the killer."
"Now the police seem to be reopening the investigation, ever since Dara spread the news," Rith said.
"Really?" Ta Chek asked, his voice filled with relief.
"Yes," Rith nodded. "I just hope they can catch the killer."
Rith's face tightened with resolve as he considered his next move.
***
Dara stayed there, watching his uncle from a distance, his mind racing. He couldn't help but wonder how Rith had the money to hire two men to stalk Monica, as he suspected her of killing Saroath—at least, that's what Dara assumed. And even more puzzling, his uncle had enough funds to continue the construction.
Not long after Ta Chek had left Rith, Dara remained in the same spot, his thoughts swirling. Then, his phone rang. The screen flashed with his uncle's name. Rith was calling.
Dara watched the phone ring for a moment before he finally answered.
"Yes, uncle?"
"Dara! Are you in the city and are you free?" Rith's voice came through, calm yet urgent. He was sitting under the same tree by his garage.
"Yes, uncle, what's the matter?"
"I've been meaning to talk to you," Rith said, his tone shifting slightly, "but I hesitated. After seeing the news, though, I think we're in the same boat now."
"What do you mean exactly?" Dara pretended to ask.
"I've been keeping an eye on Monica Han, Heng's daughter, for days," Rith confessed, his voice lowering. "I've always suspected her. She was with your mom that day…"
Dara stood firm, her gaze unwavering. "So, what's your plan?"
"The police are reinvestigating," he continued, his voice trembling. "I'll cooperate if I can, but I'm scared, Dara. It feels like we're a fragile egg, facing a giant rock. Mr. Heng demanded me to hand everything that belonged to your mother after the day she died…"
Dara's eyes flashed with determination. "If you're scared, tell me. Don't carry it alone."
He hesitated, then sighed. "Honestly, I never wanted this. But I have a wife, kids..."
Before he could say more, Dara cut him off sharply.
"Stay away from this, Uncle. Let me handle it. I'll take care of it. Just tell me everything you know. I'll be in my hometown soon, and I'll keep you updated."
He nodded, resigned. "Alright, okay."
Dara hung up the phone, his gaze lingering, eyes distant yet burning with resolve. The uncertainty that had once clouded him now gave way to a fierce determination.
He knew he would dig deeper—he would uncover the truth and seek the justice his mother deserved, no matter what it took.
***
In the HBH Company's meeting room, Dalin took charge of an important discussion with partners and managers about the upcoming open ceremony, HBH Construction, stepping in for Monica, who was absent.
"From now on, I'll be handling some things in her place," she announced. "I'll review the plans for the media site, the event preparations, and even the list of VIP invitations."
The team nodded in agreement. Oudom spoke up, "What about the company matters that require CEO approval? Should we go through you?"
Dalin responded, "Our CEO is still working from home. You can reach her there if it's urgent."
A male staff member raised a concern. "What about the news surrounding her involvement in the crime case? Could it affect the company?"
Dalin's tone was unyielding. "Nothing's been confirmed. Yes, she spoke to the lady, but that doesn't mean she's responsible for her death. From now on, if any reporters reach out, direct them to our lawyer. Any other questions?"
The room fell silent, no one daring to ask more.
"Alright, the meeting adjourned for today," Oudom said. "I'll see Monica this afternoon, ok?"
"Check with her first," Dalin replied, signaling the end of the meeting.
***
A message appeared, neither sent nor received through any discernible means, its origin shrouded in mystery. The contents were as urgent as they were cryptic:
"Kindly provide me with the identity of the prime suspect, any potential witnesses, and the solid evidence in your possession."
"Understood."
It's seemed neither side knew who held the answers, nor who might have the key to the truth.
***
In the living room, a batch of documents from HBH Holding Group were scattered across the table.
Monica sat across from Oudom and the other female staff, the Finance Manager in her mid-30s, called Neat. Her attention was divided between the papers and the ongoing conversation.
"This is the financial budget for advertising and sponsorship for the national event next month," the finance manager explained.
Monica nodded. "Alright," she replied.
The CEO flipped through a stack of documents, signing each one with swift precision.
"How about your secure budget?" Neat's question made Monica freeze. Her heart raced—she couldn't let Oucom find out about that.
"I'll talk to you later!" she snapped, cutting the conversation short.
"Yes," Neat replied with a knowing smirk, his tone laced with implication.
Oudom moved with deliberate precision, letting it slide without a word. One by one, he stamped each paper, the sharp thud punctuating the stillness of the room. The hum of business filling the space, a heavy sense of decisions being made lingering in the air.
"We've finished the manpower plan for next year, but Chairman asked me to speak with you about possibly reducing some positions." Oudom broke the silence.
Monica nodded, her gaze distant.
"I'll take another look at it later. Not now. Determine which positions we should cut, and then bring it to me."
"Yes," Oudom replied.
The CEO sighed, her exhaustion apparent. Her shoulders slumped slightly, a visible sign of physical discomfort. She paused, taking a moment to steady herself before continuing.
The concern in the eyes of both Oudom and the Finance Manager didn't go unnoticed.
"Are you alright?" Neat asked gently.
"I'm fine," Monica replied with a faint smile.
"We'll prepare the documents and head out. You should rest," Oudom suggested.
Monica smiled gratefully, thanking them for their understanding. Yet, she stayed seated with them, waiting as they finished folding the papers.
Curiosity flickered in Oudom's eyes. "Do you need another surgery?"
The CEO's expression darkened, and she nodded, her sadness palpable.
The room fell into a heavy silence, each person lost in their own thoughts.
***