The next morning at the
Lam villa, Khai Minh woke early and went down to the pool as he always did.
After a few laps, he
climbed out. The housekeeper stood by, ready with his robe. But the instant she
held it out, he was already asking:
“Where’s An Nhien?”
“You gave her leave a few
days ago, young master.”
Khai Minh faltered,
standing still for a moment before he told the housekeeper:
“Call her back.”
“…Sir?”
The housekeeper looked
baffled, but did as she was told.
The very next day, An Nhien
returned to the villa. Khai Minh had already reinstated Huu Loc and taken on
the full cost of Dong’s treatment. He didn’t call it an apology. An Nhien
didn’t ask. There was still too much hurt between them for a single decision to
smooth over, but at least she’d come back, telling herself she owed something
to a blind young master.
More than two weeks passed.
Khai Minh was as sullen and prickly with the staff as ever, but with An Nhien
it was different. He let her come close, spoke to her more openly, and, worse
still, his heart had begun to lurch hard whenever she was near.
An Nhien felt it too. She
no longer hated him the way she once had, because she knew that beneath the
arrogant, domineering, sharp-tongued exterior was a heart in need of warming.
One afternoon, Khai Minh
stood in his room, a small blue velvet box in front of him. Inside lay a
necklace engraved with two letters: M&N. He lifted it out and ran
his fingers over it, feeling out its beauty.
“Here, this is for you…”
He rehearsed to himself.
“Put it on.”
He practiced over and over,
and finally, deciding not one of the lines came out right, shook his head in
frustration.
Right then, there was a
knock at the door. An Nhien walked in, the necklace still in his hand, before
he could put it away. Seeing her, he held it out.
An Nhien assumed he wanted
her to help him wear it, so she took it. When she said nothing and simply
accepted the necklace, his heart leapt in secret delight.
But the corner of his mouth
had barely lifted before An Nhien’s arm looped around his neck, fastening the
necklace onto him.
He stood frozen as a
statue. He hadn’t seen this coming. And he didn’t dare tell her the
necklace was one he’d bought for her, so he let her clasp it on.
Once the clasp was done, An
Nhien studied him and blurted out:
“It’s pretty. But it looks
a bit girly on you.”
His face fell. He snatched
the necklace off, stuffed it back in the box, hurled it into the wastebasket,
and stalked out of the room.
An Nhien had no idea what
had gotten into him, and grumbled under her breath.
“He’s probably just having
one of his fits again.”
She walked over to the
wastebasket, fished out the box, took the necklace, and fastened it around her
own neck, then stood admiring herself in the mirror, grinning.
“Looks lovely on me.
Doesn’t suit him at all, but it suits me just fine. Whatever. He threw it away
anyway.”
And just like that, she
brazenly claimed the necklace as her own.
A long while later, Khai
Minh came back to the room. He picked up the box and opened it, only to find
the necklace gone. The corner of his mouth curved up on its own, into a small
smile.
One evening, as Mai Ngoc
was driving home from the hospital, the phone on the passenger seat lit up.
The family location-sharing
app still showed Minh Quan’s dot moving toward the city outskirts. Mai Ngoc
stared at the screen for a long time, then abruptly turned the car around.
The tracker stopped at a
luxury apartment building along the Dong Cang River. Mai Ngoc parked in the
garage and went straight up to the third floor. She’d been to this block once
before, at a City Council function, so she recognized the unit as belonging to
Linh Chi, daughter of the Deputy Chairman of the City Council, a man with
enormous sway over biomedical trial permits.
The third-floor bedroom
door stood ajar. She slipped in silently. A woman’s voice drifted out from
inside.
Minh Quan heard the
footsteps and startled. His shirt was already unbuttoned two down, a faint
smear of lipstick on his neck. Behind him, Linh Chi stood in a nightgown, her
face aghast.
“Ngoc, what are you doing
here?”
“S-sister… Mai Ngoc…”
Mai Ngoc walked straight in
and, without a word, slapped Linh Chi hard across the face.
“Don’t you dare call me
sister.”
Linh Chi clutched her
cheek, tears springing loose at once.
“I didn’t know Quan hadn’t
separated from you…”
“You didn’t know?”
Mai Ngoc let out a laugh, a
trembling, frightening thing.
“You’ve been carrying on
with my husband, using your father to push D-17’s permit through for Truong
Sinh, and now you say you didn’t know?”
Minh Quan seized his wife’s
wrist.
“Calm down first.”
“Let go of me.”
“You’re losing control.”
Mai Ngoc went rigid.
Six years ago, Khai Minh
said he’d seen a figure in a red raincoat. They told him he was concussed,
hallucinating, that his word couldn’t be trusted. Now it was her turn to be
called out of control. So this was it, the easiest way to silence
someone wasn’t to kill them outright, but to make everyone believe they’d lost
their grip on reality.
Mai Ngoc pulled out her
phone, switched on the recorder, and held it up.
“I heard your conversation
with Do Quang Vu. I know you’re behind my sister’s accident, the lab fire, and
the plan to kill Khai Minh. I’m handing this recording to the police.”
Minh Quan looked at the
screen, his expression shifting.
“Turn it off. Now.”
“No.”
“Ngoc, you think handing
over a few lines of audio will save you? You’ll be arrested too.”
“I’ll answer for my part.”
The moment the words left
her, Mai Ngoc felt her whole body shake. Not because the fear was gone, but
because, for the first time, she was accepting the fear so she wouldn’t keep
doing wrong.
“I’ll tell all of it. How I
handed you the schedule, how I stayed silent, what money I used to bribe
Dr. Loi. I’ll say everything.”
With that, she turned and
walked out. Linh Chi went pale and lunged after her, snatching for the phone.
“You can’t! My father has
nothing to do with this!”
“Get out of my way.”
“Give me that phone!”
The two women grappled. Mai
Ngoc shoved Linh Chi off, but Linh Chi was faster, catching her by the arm. The
phone dropped. Mai Ngoc bent to grab it just as Linh Chi lunged again. One hard
push threw Mai Ngoc off balance, and she tumbled down the staircase.
The sound of the impact
wasn’t loud. But the whole room fell instantly, utterly still.
Mai Ngoc lay crumpled on
the floor, her eyes still open, blood seeping from the back of her skull in a
thin ribbon across the white tile. Linh Chi clamped a hand over her mouth and
backed away until she hit the wall.
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