Next day, in the interrogation room, Mr. Heng sat across from the police officers, his shoulders slumped in resignation as he spoke.
"This is my mistake, and I'm willing to face any charges. But I want to make it clear—I didn't do anything yet. The case is still under investigation by the police, right?" he said, his voice shaky.
One officer responded, "You mentioned that Mr. Rith approached you first and warned you about the police reopening the case after discovering new evidence suggesting that late Saroath was murdered. Did he show you any other evidence?"
"No," Mr. Heng replied quickly. "He just told me that a young police officer had started digging deeper into the case. He said he had screenshots of a chat room between Monica and Saroath, and that made me afraid my daughter might be involved in her death. That's why I did what I did... because I also had their messages on Saroath's phone. But I didn't dare ask Monica directly. I'll accept whatever punishment comes for what I did."
The officer nodded, his tone steady. "We're still in the process of investigation. You're under watch, and we'll need to restrict any movement—no address changes or travel abroad until we've arrested the real killer."
Mr. Heng nodded quietly. "Yes. Yes. But... did the other police team question Sarith too?"
The officer gave a brief nod. "Yes, we've questioned him as well."
"Thank you," Mr. Heng murmured, feeling the weight of the situation bearing down on him.
***
At his villa, when Heng walked through the door, he was greeted by his son, Dara, who was waiting for him in the living room. Dalin, meanwhile, was out at the construction site of HBH Housing.
"Hello, sir," Dara greeted, looking up from his seat.
"Ah, Dara. When did you arrive?" Heng asked, his voice tired but warm.
"Just moments ago," Dara replied, standing to greet him.
"Take a seat," Heng motioned, settling himself down on the couch.
"Did you come from the police station?" Dara asked, already sensing the tension in his father's demeanor.
"Yes. Let me apologize, son," Heng said, his tone heavy with regret.
"Son?" Dara raised an eyebrow, his expression guarded.
"Call me dad from now on, okay?" Heng said softly, his voice vulnerable.
Dara hesitated for a moment before responding, "I'll think about it."
Heng accepted the delay without protest. "So, what's bringing you here today?"
Just then, Nuth entered the room, placing a glass of water on the table between them. Heng took a sip before turning back to Dara, who remained still, lost in thought.
"I know you've always helped my mom's family and financially supported my uncle. I understand all that you've done, but the garage station was my mom's dream, and now it's all falling apart…" Dara's voice faltered, his frustration evident.
Heng sighed deeply, setting the glass down. "It had to, Dara. We're under investigation now. But I'm sure, once everything is settled, I'll let you decide what to do next."
"My uncle is also part of this project!" Dara's voice was edged with impatience.
"Yes," Heng replied, his tone serious. "Once the real killer is arrested, we can do everything right again. My son, you've been through a lot already. Let your sister handle it from here... trust her."
Dara remained silent, uncertain. "How can I trust her?"
"She's declared it publicly, just like you have," Heng said, his eyes softening. "Now, with the case openly investigated, it will become easier. Trust me, son."
Dara's expression was still clouded with doubt. "I'm your dad. I'll protect my kids at all costs. But no more hiding, no more fabrications. I can't make Monica suffer like this anymore, you too. Can you believe me one last time?"
Dara stared at his father, the weight of his words sinking in. It was hard for him to find an answer, torn between the past and the uncertain future ahead.
***
At a small outdoor restaurant, Visal and Chanida sat under the shade of a weathered umbrella, their coffee cups steaming in the warm breeze. Nida glanced up from her drink, her voice curious. "So, who are we meeting now?"
Visal took a slow sip of his coffee before answering, his gaze steady. "The owner of the lotus farm!"
"Aunt Sokhom!"
"Yes! But we need to be cautious. I've arranged to meet her at 1pm, when she heads to the farm. We'll follow after."
Nida glanced at the time on her phone—12:47. "Okay!"
Visal's expression darkened slightly. "I'm not happy with Dara, by the way. He seems so dramatic."
"Don't mind him too much. That's just how he is."
Visal nodded, already knowing. "I know."
"I just hope he won't cause any chaos again."
Visal fell quiet for a moment, his brow furrowed. "But it's his right, after all," he said, his voice low. "And we need to bring the truth to light."
Nida gave a simple nod. "Yes."
An unspoken understanding passed between them as silence settled before they left the restaurant.
—
The vast expanse of rice fields stretched out before them, merging with the lush farmland beside a serene lotus pond—an idyllic scene bathed in golden light.
Beneath the sprawling shade of a towering Sindora siamensis tree, Aunt Sokhom sat, content, beside her bamboo basket filled with a box of steamed layered cake and a bottle of water.
Visal and Nida settled beside her, their gazes drifting over the peaceful view of the lotus farm, taking in the beauty that surrounded them.
Aunt Sokhom's voice broke the silence, soft yet heavy with the weight of memory. "I went to Sarosth's house that evening," she began, her eyes distant as if retracing her steps. "I waited for Ah Rith to meet him, to ask about work and my money, but he never came—not to his own home, nor to his parents'. I remember it was around half past four. She died in the backyard, but not under the tree... she was on the bamboo bed, right next to her father's firewood pile."
Visal and Nida listen with shock and pain. Visal asked
"How could you know she was dead if there is no sign of blood, wound which show up obviously?"
Sokhom continued "Her neck was bruised, her hands fell to the ground, blood spilling from her mouth. Shock and agony gripped me, my body frozen, just inches from reaching her. Then, from the shadows near the house, out of the bushes, a figure emerged. I had to run. After I moved to hide, the figure lifted her, the noose tightening around her neck. "And I already saw power cords, extension cords near the bed too," she added, her voice steady. "They were just lying on the ground."
Visal narrowed his eyes and whispered, "Power cords… extension cords?"
"Yes!" Sokhom said eagerly.
Nida leaned in. "What did he look like? His clothes—any details you remember?"
Aunty paused, thinking. "He dressed simply, like anyone else. But… as I recall, he wore a dark green jacket—an old one—and black pants. His face was covered with a black mask and black glasses."
Nida and Visal exchanged a glance, their minds racing to piece together the implications.
***
In her office, Monica sat, her mind racing. The receipt from Visak's soft drink purchase the previous day was still nagging at her thoughts. She couldn't shake Dalin's words from her mind.
"I knew Visak was introduced by your mom's family. You trust him, but I'm not so sure. Visak, your mom, and that man Sethya are in the same field of work. What if they knew each other?"
And then there was Chanida's voice: "They're back together, Sethya and Dara!"
Monica's heart raced as she pondered the possibility. What if...?
The phone on her desk rang, snapping her back to reality.
"Miss Monica, the final interview is done."
"Okay, let them be here in five minutes," she replied, taking a deep breath to steady herself.
She gathered her thoughts, checking the evaluation folder in her hands as she prepared to meet the new candidates for the secretary position.
Knock knock!
"Come in..." Monica called out, straightening up as the first female candidate entered. Dy Leakena, dressed in a formal suit with impeccable makeup, walked in carrying a bag.
"Hello, sister!" Leakena greeted her with a bright smile.
"Hello! Have a seat there…" Monica motioned toward the sofa.
Leakena took her seat, visibly excited, as Monica sat down across from her, folder in hand, and offered a warm smile.
"How are you today?" Monica asked.
"I'm good. How about you?" Leakena replied, her tone friendly.
"Hmm, I'm so-so," Monica said with a slight shrug.
"I'm Monica, Han Monica. And what is your name?"
"My name is Dy Leakena."
Monica paused for a moment, recalling something. Leakena is part of Dara's circle, Oudom's words echoing in her mind.
"Leakena! Let me check your CV… Okay!" Monica said, flipping through the pages of the folder.
Leakena smiled confidently, awaiting the next question.
"Great! So, I believe you've gone through the interview process and are probably exhausted already. I just want to meet you for the final decision, since if you pass, you'll be working directly with me. You were informed about this, right?"
"Yes!"
Monica thought for a moment before asking, "What's your image of working with me?"
"Oh, I don't mind working with anybody. I've always wanted to work in a cooperative company, and working with foreign people is exciting for me," Leakena responded, her tone enthusiastic.
Monica nodded, considering her response. "How do you handle stress and pressure, especially with urgent tasks?"
"I accept stress and pressure if it's reasonable. But sometimes, if I'm forced to make decisions, like in an urgent situation, I'm afraid I'm not so confident. Or I can say I'm not a professional in making decisions yet... like making wrong decisions," Leakena admitted.
Monica listened carefully, studying the way Leakena explained herself.
"I understand what you mean. Can you share an experience where you think you made a wrong decision?"
"Personal or work?" Leakena asked.
"Anything you'd like to share…"
"I chose others over my friends in a difficult situation…" Leakena said, her voice tinged with regret.
Monica felt a slight unease but stayed silent, letting the candidate speak.
"Later, I regretted it… but at work, I think I'm not at the level to make such difficult decisions yet. I want to work with you because your position faces those kinds of situations a lot. I want to put myself in that kind of situation," Leakena explained.
"But you said you regret it? Did time help you adjust?" Monica asked, her curiosity piqued.
"No…" Leakena replied quietly.
Monica nodded thoughtfully. "Okay, I got it. Interesting! Your friends mean a lot to you, right?"
"They're my best friends," Leakena replied with a slight smile.
"Good…Everyone makes mistakes under different circumstances. Some may need almost a lifetime to fully understand and take responsibility for them, while others might be fortunate enough to have the time and opportunity to adjust their course. Sometimes If you hesitate or feel unsure, the answer is already 'No',"
Leakena nodded in agreement.
"In our holding group, I'm sure you've learned about our business in cars, electronics, apartments, and soon we'll have housing and HBH media. We also do CSR work with cultural and art communities... We work a lot with foreign people and investors. It's stressful, and pressure is part of it. Sometimes urgent tasks come up. Everything is hard before it becomes easy!"
"I like it," Leakena responded eagerly.
"Making mistakes or wrong decisions is fine as long as you dare to take responsibility," Monica said, offering a final piece of advice.
"Yes!" Leakena said, her determination clear.
"I wish you the best of luck," Monica said with a smile.
"Thank you!" Leakena responded, her face brightening as she stood to leave.
***
Monica sat at her desk, sorting through the CVs of the three candidates. She had just finished her final round of interviews, and now it was time to make a decision.
Leakena's CV was at the top of the pile, As Monica looked closer at her work history, she paused at a particular detail. Leakena had worked at KTH company two years ago, which was Visak's parent company—the supermarket chain and F&B subsidiary.
The CEO's eyes narrowed slightly as she recalled that Visak had only joined the garment factory and fabric sites in this year after finishing his master degree abroad, which moved from that side. The connection felt too close to ignore.