The rain outside was damn heavy, hammering against the window of the Grab car like steady machine gun fire. Laras stared out at the blurry neon lights of Orchard Road, her heart beating damn fast inside her chest. Singapore was usually so quiet at this hour, but her mind was totally jammed with that urgent WhatsApp call from Bandung. Her mother, Madam Rahma, was locked up in a police station after being beaten by her own daughter-in-law, Siska, while her useless brother Joko just stood there and watched. Wah, really blur lah, how could a son let his own mother kena whack like that? But this time, everything was going to change. Laras was not just some quiet girl working a normal nine-to-five desk job in the Central Business District. She was a senior special investigator with Singapore’s Corrupt Practices Investigation Bureau, currently on a high-stakes cross-border assignment in Indonesia under deep cover. She knew all the dirty tricks officers used to cover up corruption, and Coblong Police Station was about to kena a massive storm.
When the car finally stopped in front of the rundown station, the damp night air smelled like cheap cigarette smoke and old paper. Laras pushed open the glass door, her long trench coat sweeping the floor with absolute poise. She didn’t look like a panic-stricken daughter; she looked like someone ready to execute a precise military strike. The duty officer behind the counter was half-asleep, scrolling on his phone. But the moment the fluorescent light hit her sharp, unblinking eyes, his face turned damn fly-paper white. He nearly dropped his kopi.
Boss Laras… I… I really didn’t know the old lady inside was your mother hor, the officer stammered, his voice shaking like jelly.
That one single sentence already exposed everything. The whole station was damn dodgy. One young constable immediately looked down at his shoes, while another guy hurriedly switched off the body-worn camera clipped to his chest. Laras saw the tiny red recording light blink and die out in a split second. She also noticed the evidence room door was left slightly ajar, with fresh muddy footprints leading straight inside, as if someone was rushing to hide something damn important.
Inside the main holding area, her mother sat weakly on a cold steel bench. Madam Rahma’s wrists were locked in heavy handcuffs, one eye was swollen purple like a bruised plum, and a dried trail of blood ran down from her temple. Across the room, Siska was putting on an Oscar-winning drama, fake crying while clinging tightly to Joko, who looked completely paiseh and kept staring at the floor.
She damn crazy lah! Siska shrieked, pointing her finger at the old lady. She tried to whack me first! We only defending ourselves!
Joko cleared his throat, trying to sound fierce but sounding totally pathetic. Laras ah, don’t make big issue out of nothing. Mum has been losing her memory lately, you know. We just trying to bring her home to rest.
Madam Rahma looked up at her son, her eyes full of heartbreak. The pain in her chest wasn’t from the baseball bat anymore; it was from realizing her own flesh and blood had sold her out just to grab her property deeds.
Laras didn’t scream. She didn’t throw a tantrum. She just walked straight past them, knelt down beside her mother, and took out her phone. She snapped clear photos of the bruises, the steel cuffs, the broken watch on the wall, and the terrified faces of the duty officers.
What are you doing? Drop your phone right now!
The shout came from the inner corridor. Superintendent Heru Prasetyo stepped out, his uniform shirt untucked and smelling strongly of expensive whiskey. Everyone in the room knew he was Siska’s biological uncle, the big boss shielding the whole corrupt syndicate in the district.
Don’t try to use your Singapore enforcement background to act hero here in Indonesia, Heru sneered, stepping closer with a menacing grin. This is a family dispute. You have no jurisdiction. Log off and go back to Marina Bay before I charge you with obstructing justice.
Laras slowly stood up to her full height. She looked at Heru dead in the eye, her expression so ice-cold that the temperature in the room seemed to drop by ten degrees.
Jurisdiction? Laras whispered, her voice dangerously calm. You think I came here just as a daughter?
Before Heru could reply, a sudden gust of wind from the open back door blew a stray piece of paper out from the semi-open evidence room. It fluttered down and landed right at Laras’s feet. It was an official seizure manifest. Written right at the top was Madam Rahma’s name—neatly crossed out with a thick black marker, alongside a list of high-value land titles belonging to the elderly mother that Siska and Joko had illegally transferred into their own names earlier that morning.
Laras picked up the paper slowly. A small, chilling smile formed on her lips.
You guys really thought you could play tai-chi with the law, hor? Laras said smoothly, tapping her phone screen twice.
Suddenly, the heavy metal front doors of the police station banged wide open. A dozen armed tactical officers from the Indonesian national anti-corruption commission poured inside, weapons raised, completely surrounding the bewildered officers and a pale, shaking Superintendent Heru. At the same time, the station’s main computer servers began flashing red as remote cybersecurity teams from Singapore and Jakarta simultaneously locked down every single database and digital file in the building.
Joko dropped his jaw, staring at his sister in absolute shock, finally realizing that the quiet, unassuming girl he dismissed for years was actually the ultimate masterclass in karma. Heru stumbled backward, his knees buckling beneath him as the heavy steel handcuffs were snapped onto his own wrists instead. Laras gently helped her mother up, whispering softly in her ear that everything was finally over, as the flashing red and blue lights of the patrol cars painted the rainy Bandung night in a fierce, unyielding glow.