The creation of Harsh Technologies International (HTI) was a masterstroke of corporate camouflage. Within a month, Rakesh had established a modest but respectable office in a commercial building in Singapore's Raffles Place. It was staffed by a skeleton crew: a local office manager and a fresh-faced, ambitious Indian MBA graduate named Priya Kapoor (no relation to the Priya from his past), who believed she was on the cutting edge of international technology scouting.
The official story was airtight. HTI's mandate was to identify emerging technologies in consumer electronics, semiconductor manufacturing, and materials science from Japan, Taiwan, and the United States, and secure licensing agreements or outright acquisitions for the parent company, Bharat Electronics. It was a forward-thinking, logical expansion for a company with "National Importance" status.
The first transaction was a thing of beauty. Rakesh generated a detailed, twenty-page report from HTI on "Advanced Ferrite Core Technology for Miniaturized Radio Receivers," complete with technical specifications and market analysis. It was dense, plausible, and utterly fictional. Accompanying it was an invoice from HTI to Bharat Electronics for a "First-Right Licensing Option Fee" of $50,000.
When Mehta, the head of accounts, saw the documents, his reaction was completely different from before. He was impressed. "This is excellent, Harsh Bhai! This is exactly the kind of strategic spending we should be doing. Proper documentation, a clear business purpose. This is how a global company operates!"
Harsh simply nodded, a quiet satisfaction settling over him. The veil was working. He had given his loyal, by-the-book employee a legitimate framework for the capital flows, and Mehta's meticulous nature was now an asset, not a threat. The payment was approved without a single probing question.
This single, legitimate-looking transaction made the subsequent, larger movements easier to disguise. A payment of five crore rupees to Soni's network could now be broken down into multiple, smaller invoices from HTI for various "technology assessment" and "market feasibility" studies. The trail was becoming a labyrinth, and Harsh held the only map.
A week later, Sanjay burst into his office, his face a mixture of excitement and confusion. He held a product catalog from a Japanese electronics firm.
"Harsh Bhai! This is incredible! I just got off the phone with our new office in Singapore. Priya there sent this over. She says she's in talks with this company for a licensing deal on their new anti-roll mechanism for cassette players. It's genius! How did you find her? This HTI is a game-changer!"
Harsh allowed himself a genuine smile. The illusion was so complete it was generating its own momentum. Sanjay, who lived and breathed products, was now seeing tangible, exciting results from the very entity that was primarily a financial facade. The lie was fertilizing the truth.
"It's about having the right eyes and ears everywhere, Sanjay," Harsh said. "We can't just be manufacturers; we must be innovators. HTI is our window to the world."
Later, in private, Rakesh provided the real update. "The BH-1 account now holds six point two million US dollars. The consistent flow has allowed us to make a small, preliminary investment through a broker in Hong Kong. We have purchased ten thousand dollars' worth of shares in a company called 'Microsoft'. It is a test, as you instructed."
The first shot had been fired. A tiny, almost insignificant sum, but it was the breach in the wall. The American dream was now a line item in a hidden portfolio.
But the very success of the deception was creating new tensions. Deepak, who was less easily dazzled by international reports than Sanjay, approached Harsh one evening as he was preparing to leave.
"The speaker factory is behind schedule," Deepak stated, his tone blunt. "We need more oversight, more hands-on management. But you are distracted, Harsh Bhai. You spend more time with Rakesh and these... international papers... than on the factory floor. The nuts and bolts are what built us. Not these reports from Singapore."
It was a quiet, sobering accusation. Deepak wasn't questioning his loyalty; he was questioning his focus. He saw the founder being pulled away from the foundation.
Harsh looked at Deepak, the man who had stood with him since the beginning, whose hands had built the first working prototype of everything they now sold. He couldn't tell him the truth—that the "international papers" were funding a secret war chest that would one day make the speaker factory look like a child's toy.
"You are right, Deepak," Harsh conceded, placing a hand on his shoulder. "The foundation is everything. I will be on the factory floor with you tomorrow at seven. We will get the project back on track. My word."
It was a promise he intended to keep, even if only for a day. He had to maintain the balance. He was the king who had to be seen ruling his visible kingdom, even as he plotted the conquest of invisible ones.
The Singapore veil was effective, but it was also a divider. It was creating two versions of Harsh Patel: the visionary industrialist his team saw, and the global speculator only he and Rakesh knew. The weight of the crown was now the strain of living a double life, of championing the "Made in India" dream while secretly moving his most valuable assets far beyond its shores. The empire was secure, but the emperor was becoming a stranger to his own court.