I am a divorce woman who has a fashionable appearance and a life full with wealth. People will get jealous of me, especially if they know my past. I’m just a village girl who works odd jobs. It’s hard to find food to eat. I once married a poor man and accepted that burdensome life as part of destiny.
However, an incident made our household fall apart. Like it or not, divorce happens. Now, I have everything. Outsiders saw that I was lacking in nothing, but they did not know where this wealth came from. The stakes are huge, lives are being targeted.
It was Norma Wilhelmina who was after us. She’s the legal wife of Hendrik, a billionaire who owns companies around the world and he made me his mistress.
Call me Kantil, a pseudonym. A mother who’s her daughter died on her father’s bed while holding a test pack. My daughter’s name is Keynara. She is only fifteen years old and still in third grade of Junior High School. We usually call her by Key.
Key has wide eyes with eyelashes that--we Javanese call it--tumingo ing tawang. Key’s hair is like mine, curls from birth. She is the only granddaughter in my family and the family of Roni, her father.
When she was five years old, Key always said that when he grew up he wanted to be a dangdut singer. Roni and I laugh every time we see her imitating Inul Daratista’s sway. By collecting the money from sewing, I was able to buy her a new DVD complete with a dozen dangdut tapes. My daughter is very happy. Every day she practiced singing and dancing. Seeing her great interest, I promised that when I had the money, I would register for vocal and dance lessons. However, our economy has not improved.
Now that I have everything and I able to full fill all of Key’s needs, my beautiful little daughter like a Barbie doll died in the hands of a ruffian. Her vital organs were swollen, there was dried blood stuck to her thighs. Key was found naked. Until I write down this story, still unknown who killed her.
Near Key’s corpse was found scattered fetal laxative drugs. However, the autopsy results stated that no traces of the drug were found on her stomach. Most likely, she was murdered and the drugs just to distract investigators.
Maybe the killer thought I wouldn’t do the autopsy because the killer though I didn’t have money. However, the killer was wrong. The money I collected while being a slave to Mr. Hendrik’s lust was more than enough to buy his head.
Although, the culprit hasn’t been found yet, I suspect someone. Roni, who is Keynara’s father. My suspicion is not without reason. The reason is, Key often said in our conversations on the phone that her father often held her while she was sleeping. At first, I ignored it because after all, Mas Roni is her biological father. As savage as a man, he certainly will not prey on his own child. When Key told me the second time I started to suspect. Key said Roni accompanied her to sleep in the room. Even though Key is not a child anymore, she was twelve years old at the time.
At that time, I could not immediately take firm action against Roni because I was in Paramaribo. There is a contract with Pak Hendrik that binds me. The contract I signed five years ago, for a much better future for Keynara.
About my story, a village woman who prostituted herself to a conglomerate finally brought to American continent but in the other hand my daughter died horribly, I will tell you after this.