Chapter 3 - The Chessboard Widens
Three days later, I was discharged. I didn't go back to the mansion. I went to a high-end apartment in the city center that I had purchased under my mother’s maiden name years ago—a secret stash I had kept for an "emergency." This was it.
My lawyer, Hoang, arrived looking grim. "Vy, this is dangerous. If Minh finds out you’ve tapped into the company’s server, he’ll kill you."
"He already tried, Hoang," I said, setting a glass of scotch on the table. "He just used a scalpel instead of a gun."
Hoang looked at the files I had decrypted. His eyes widened. "Project Phoenix... this is grand-scale embezzlement. If this goes public, he won’t just lose the company; he’ll spend the rest of his life in prison."
"That’s the goal," I said coldly. "But I need more. I need to know about Lan. Why her? Why now?"
Hoang hesitated. "That’s the strange part. Lan isn't just a mistress. Her father is a high-ranking official in the real estate regulatory board. Minh isn't just looking for an heir; he’s looking for immunity. He plans to use the pregnancy to solidify his ties to her family, and then use her father’s influence to clear his path for liquidation."
I laughed, a sharp, humorless sound. "He’s a fool. He thinks people are pawns. He forgets that pawns can reach the other side of the board and become queens."
We spent the next forty-eight hours in a flurry of activity. I didn't just want to expose him; I wanted to strip him of everything. I leaked anonymous tips to the business press about "irregularities" in Gia Minh’s recent land acquisitions. Stock prices began to dip. It was a slow bleed, just like the one he had inflicted on me.
Then, the invitation arrived. A gala. The annual Gia Minh Charity Ball. Minh and Lan were hosting it. The invitation was a deliberate taunt—a "Welcome Home" note written in his elegant, arrogant handwriting.
"Don't go," Hoang warned.
"I have to," I replied, looking at my reflection. I looked pale, thin, and fragile. Exactly what they expected. "He thinks he has already won. He thinks I’m broken. I need him to see me at my weakest before I deliver the blow."
The night of the gala, I wore a dress that hid the surgical bandages but exuded a quiet, dangerous elegance. When I walked into the ballroom, the music didn't stop, but the whispers surged like a rising tide.
Minh stood at the top of the marble staircase, Lan draped on his arm like a trophy. His eyes locked onto mine, widening in genuine shock. He had expected me to be in bed, drugged, and weeping. Instead, I climbed the stairs, holding a champagne flute, my head held high.
"Vy?" he hissed as I reached the top. "What the hell are you doing here?"
"It’s my company too, Minh," I said, my voice sweet enough to cut glass. "I wouldn't miss the beginning of the end for anything."
Lan looked at me, her hand protectively over her belly. "You shouldn't be here, Vy. You're unwell."
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I leaned in close to her, my lips brushing her ear. "The baby is cute, Lan. But you might want to ask Minh where he’s really hiding the money. It’s not in the nursery."
I saw the flash of doubt in her eyes. I didn't wait for a response. I walked past them, into the heart of the crowd, ready to watch the walls start to crumble.
