“I spoke to the journalist,” said Renee.
Dad flicked through the papers in the folder she’d given him, his eyes darting over the pages. “You told Low Teck Wee all this?”
“I haven’t had any contact with Low Teck Wee,” said Renee. “Though I did DM Felicia Handoko and mention some of the things her husband’s said to me. I wasn’t sure she’d believe me, but I guess she must have had her suspicions. We had quite a long chat. It was a few days after that that I heard Freshview are looking for a new construction partner.”
Renee inspected her nails. They were growing out. She needed to make an appointment for a manicure.
“But who knows what’s going to happen after theGuardianpiece is out?” she said. “Freshview would have given warranties when they won the project. The government here’s been bigging it up, it’s a showpiece for them. They’re not going to enjoy being embarrassed. It’s not too late for Freshview to get kicked off the development.”
Renee should probably leave it there. It wasn’t any of her business any longer. She’d declared her position by doing this—and that was firmly outside the circle of family entrusted with Chahaya’s interests.
But it was impossible to resist the temptation to be clever, with Su Khoon snorting and turning purple on the other side of the table. She added:
“Of course, Chahaya has contacts with the Malaysian state investors, too.”
Dad had been looking like he couldn’t decide whether to rage out, or to find a dark, quiet place where he could lie down and try to forget he’d ever had children. He perked up.
“You think we can take over the development,” he said.
“It’s speculation at this stage,” said Renee. “But Chahaya would be well placed to do it.”
Su Khoon finally found his voice.
“Selling crap on Instagram is good PR training, huh?” he said. His fingers were twitching slightly where they were resting on the table, but apart from that he was remarkably controlled. “Teaches you how to present your fuckups as wins. Since you’rebeing so upfront, telling us about what’s been keeping you busy, why don’t you tell Dad about your little boyfriend?”
Su Khoon probably didn’t expect Renee to roll her eyes.
“Why don’tyoutell Dad?” she said. “Since you know so much. I’m sure Dad’s going to be shocked to hear that sometimes I go on dates.”
Su Khoon glared at her. “You know there’s more to it than that.”
“Oh, please enlighten me,” said Renee.
Su Khoon was already leaning over to grab the iPad, bringing up an image on the screen.
It was a shot of Renee with Ket Siong as they left her building together, the morning after he’d found her in Hyde Park. Su Khoon’s guy must have taken the shot mere minutes before Ket Siong clocked him.
Dad squinted at the iPad. “I thought you’re with that singer? What’s his name, Jason?”
“That’s over now,” said Renee. “For the record, the reason why Er Ge has this picture is because he had me followed.” She added to Su Khoon, “That’s messed up, by the way. No wonder you think Andrew’s behaviour is fine.”
Su Khoon shrugged. “I didn’t know if you could be trusted. Who knows what kind of nonsense you might have been getting up to? Turns out I was right, no?”
Dad ignored their bickering with the ease of long practice.
“Who’s this, in the photo?” he said to Renee. “He’s Singaporean?”
“His name’s Yap Ket Siong. He’s from Malaysia,” said Renee. It wasn’t like it mattered what Dad thought of Ket Siong. But moved by some obscure impulse, she said, “His mom was a lawyer, but she’s retired now.”
“Lawyer?” Dad picked up the iPad so he could bring it closer to his eyes. “Looks like a decent boy. What firm was the mother at?”
“His mother is Chang Yin Lok,” said Su Khoon sharply. “Ten years ago, she was working at Khalid and Balasubramaniam in KL. You remember, when SB Permata was trying to acquire the land for Uptown Mall? The deal almost got called off.” He pointed at Ket Siong’s blurry image on the screen. “His mother was the lawyer who was causing the problem.”
“You told the firm to fire her,” said Renee.
She wasn’t sure why she said it. It wasn’t like Dad was going to admit to having done wrong.
“Oh, the activist,” he said. “I remember.”
