THE TRILLIONAIRE PROJECT
Arga didn't stop running until he reached a narrow alley lined with old buildings.
He was gasping for breath.
His shirt was soaked with sweat, even though the night was growing colder.
He looked back.
There was no one there.
Only the occasional sound of vehicles passing on the main road.
His hand was still wrapped around the flash drive Bram had given him.
The little device felt like a hot stone.
A few minutes ago, an old man who had once worked with his father had risked his life just to give him that device.
Now Arga didn't know whether Bram was still alive.
He pulled out his phone.
There was no signal.
Arga cursed under his breath.
“Stay calm.”
He took a deep breath.
“Don't panic.”
After years of trading in the stock market, he had learned one important lesson.
When everyone else panics, don't panic with them.
People who lose control make the worst decisions.
Arga slipped the flash drive into the inside pocket of his jacket.
He wasn't going to open it there.
Someone could be watching him.
He walked toward the main road and booked a ride to his apartment.
But when the vehicle stopped in front of the building, Arga didn't go inside right away.
He stood across the street.
Staring at his apartment building.
The lights on the seventy-second floor were still on.
Even though he was certain he'd turned them off before leaving.
Someone was in there.
Arga turned around immediately.
“So they got there first.”
He didn't enter the building.
Instead, he headed for a small hotel several miles away.
That night, Arga slept in a room that wasn't registered in his name.
At 2:17 a.m.,
he opened his laptop.
The flash drive went in.
A single folder appeared.
THE TRILLIONAIRE PROJECT
Inside were seven files.
The first file was named:
GNT_MASTER_PLAN
Arga opened it.
A document appeared.
It wasn't an ordinary company report.
There were stock ownership diagrams, lists of shell companies, cross-border transactions, and the names of people who had never once appeared in public filings.
Arga read slowly.
The farther he got, the more tense his expression became.
A corporate network was secretly controlling GNT stock.
They had bought stock through dozens of different accounts.
They had one goal.
To control the company without appearing to be its primary owner.
Arga shook his head.
“This isn't investing.”
He kept reading.
Then he found a figure.
Effective ownership: 38.7 percent.
Nearly forty percent of the company was under the control of the same group.
But who were they?
The group's name was written using only three letters.
KHA.
Arga opened the second file.
It contained a list of transactions.
The dates of the transactions left him speechless.
The last transaction had taken place three days before his father died.
Arga read the sender account name.
Then the recipient name.
A foreign investment firm.
The amount:
Rp3.8 trillion.
Arga rose from his chair.
“This is insane.”
His father had apparently made a trillion-rupiah transaction right before he died.
But the money had never been recorded as part of the family's wealth.
Where had it gone?
Arga opened the third file.
This time, there was only one video.
The video's creation date showed that it had been made seven years ago.
Arga's heart began beating faster.
He pressed play.
The screen showed a man around fifty years old.
His father.
A face he had seen only in family photos for years now appeared before him again.
“Arga.”
The voice made his chest tighten.
His father stared into the camera.
“If you're watching this video, there's a very good chance I'm already gone.”
Arga froze.
The video continued.
“I know you're going to ask why I hid everything from you.”
His father paused for a few seconds.
“Because the people I'm dealing with aren't ordinary.”
The video suddenly switched to a recorded voice.
“There is a group that has been buying up strategic companies in Indonesia for more than ten years.”
The screen displayed several company logos.
Banking.
Technology.
Energy.
Mining.
Logistics.
Media.
All of them were connected to the same group.
“They don't want to become rich.”
Arga's father stared seriously into the camera.
“They want to control money.”
The video stopped.
Arga pressed play again.
But the file asked for a password.
He tried his father's birth date.
Wrong.
His mother's birth date.
Wrong.
Arga's name.
Wrong.
Then he remembered something.
A sentence his father often said when he was still alive.
“Rich people buy things. Smart people buy time.”
Arga typed:
WAKTU
The screen unlocked.
The final file appeared.
Arga swallowed.
Inside was a list.
Names of people.
Some were directors of major companies.
Some were officials.
Some were businesspeople.
And one name made Arga freeze.
RICHARD WIJAYA.
Arga knew him.
Richard was one of the most famous investors in Indonesia.
His wealth was estimated at tens of trillions of rupiah.
He often appeared on television.
He was known as a philanthropist.
He founded schools.
Built hospitals.
Donated huge sums of money.
The public loved him.
But in Arga's father's file, Richard's name was marked in red.
Beside it was a single sentence.
THE PERSON TO TRUST LEAST.
Arga closed the laptop.
He didn't sleep that night.
The next morning, the stock market opened again.
GNT stock was trading at 137.
In three days, it had already lost nearly ninety percent of its value from its peak.
The media called it the biggest collapse of the year.
But Arga started buying again.
Not five billion.
This time, twenty billion.
He bought the stock in stages.
He didn't buy all at once.
Every time the price dropped, he bought a little more.
137.
138.
139.
140.
141.
Several investors began to notice him.
An anonymous account on a stock forum wrote:
“Who's absorbing all that GNT stock?”
Within an hour, another comment appeared.
“They say it's a new investor.”
Then came the next comment.
“Crazy.”
Arga smiled at the screen.
He didn't care.
He wasn't buying because he expected the stock price to rise tomorrow.
He was buying because he now knew something the market didn't.
GNT wasn't a dying company.
GNT was being murdered.
And someone was trying to make everyone believe the company had no future.
That was the crucial difference.
A failing company should be avoided.
But a good company being deliberately destroyed could become the greatest opportunity of a person's life.
Arga opened the financial statements.
Then he began calculating.
If GNT's hidden assets really matched the information in his father's documents, the company's intrinsic value should be at least six times higher than its market price.
He smiled.
“Well then…”
His hand moved again.
BUY.
Five billion.
BUY.
Another five billion.
BUY.
Ten billion.
In two hours, Arga had spent forty billion rupiah.
But he wasn't finished.
His phone rang.
Dimas.
“Arga, have you lost your mind?”
“Why?”
“Your name is starting to show up in the market.”
“Let it.”
“Do you know who's selling?”
“Who?”
“Richard Wijaya.”
Arga fell silent.
“He's selling off a huge amount of GNT stock.”
Arga looked at the screen.
Suddenly, everything made sense.
Richard was selling.
The market panicked.
Small investors joined in.
But someone was quietly buying it all.
Arga smiled.
“Good.”
Dimas was startled.
“How is that good?”
“If Richard is selling…”
Arga stared at the chart.
“…I'll buy.”
That afternoon, a major news story broke.
RICHARD WIJAYA SAYS HE NO LONGER HAS A STRATEGIC INTEREST IN GNT.
The market panicked even more.
The price dropped again.
Arga laughed instead.
“Thank you.”
But an hour later, something he hadn't expected happened.
GNT stock suddenly stopped falling.
140.
141.
142.
Then it rose.
165.
166.
167.
In less than thirty minutes, the stock had climbed nearly fifty percent.
The stock forum exploded.
The media began asking questions.
“What happened?”
Arga stared at the screen.
Then a public filing appeared.
One of GNT's subsidiaries announced that it had secured a technology contract worth Rp18 trillion.
Arga smiled.
He had already known about the contract's potential from an old report.
But the market had only just found out.
The price kept rising.
250.
251.
252.
Arga didn't sell.
Dimas called again.
“Ga! Sell!”
“Not yet.”
“Your profit is already more than one hundred percent!”
“It's not time yet.”
“Then when?”
Arga stared at the chart.
“When everyone else starts believing.”
“Believing what?”
“That this company is going to become a giant.”
That night, Arga returned to the hotel.
He opened his laptop.
But before he could check the other files, an email arrived.
The sender was unknown.
The subject contained only one word:
CONGRATULATIONS.
Arga opened the email.
There was only one photo.
A photo of him buying GNT stock.
Taken from a distance.
Beneath the photo was a sentence:
You've made the same choice as your father.
Arga fell silent.
Then a second email arrived.
Tomorrow, we'll come and take everything.
Arga closed the laptop.
There was no longer any fear on his face.
Instead, a small smile appeared.
For years, he had been known only as a stubborn young investor.
No one considered him dangerous.
Not yet.
But now the game had changed.
Arga opened his investment app.
The total value of his portfolio was displayed on the screen.
He had risked nearly all his wealth.
But he didn't feel like he had lost anything.
Because for the first time, he knew exactly what he was buying.
Not just stock.
He was buying an opportunity.
An opportunity to expose the network that had destroyed his family.
An opportunity to uncover the truth about his father's death.
And maybe…
an opportunity to become the richest person the stock market had ever produced.
Arga turned off the lights.
But before going to sleep, he sent a message to someone.
“Find every piece of information you can about Richard Wijaya. Don't worry about the cost.”
The message was sent.
A few seconds later, a reply came in.
“All right, Mr. Arga.”
Arga stared at the message.
He smiled.
The war had begun.
And this time, he had no intention of becoming the victim.
He intended to be the winner.