“I need you to go out on a limb and say something outrageous about the migrant worker community,” Elvis turned to Sharon and explained. “A ridiculous statement that is bound to make firecracker opposition party members like Jowene Tay and Rashid Rahman jump up from their seats and scramble for the microphone in parliament. And when they throw you into the fire pit and roast you alive, you will say nothing in your own defence. We need to get you publicly humiliated.”

“But why?” Sharon shuddered, not liking the idea at all.

“The public’s curiosity is highly flammable. Luckily for us, their attention span is also exceedingly short. Right now the hot topic of the day is all about race. We want to shift the focus back to the locals versus migrant workers issue. Your public humiliation in parliament and possibly online is the next circus act that has to top the preceding one. Our supporters will see your humiliation dealt out by the opposition party as their humiliation too. That’s the only way to resurrect support from the conservatives. Once they come to your rescue, the resulting brouhaha will keep everyone entertained and occupied for at least a fortnight. By then, Anshuman Tiwari will be too cold and stale for the public palate.”

“That’s a brilliant strategy!” Yu Chin exclaimed with delight. He turned to Sharon and said, “Don’t worry dear. Both Elvis and I will help you with the speech.”

Sharon bit her lip. That tinge of gratitude in her heart earlier had dissolved. For a split second she felt like reaching under the table and crushing her husband’s kneecap with silent fury.