Chapter 3 — After My Roommate Robbed My Dad

Lam Vy looked at the notebook in my hand in panic. It was like what was in front of her wasn't paper... It was a death warrant.

“Hua Giai… you… what do you want to do?”

“Do what?”

I laughed. I threw the notebook down in front of her.

“Write it all down for me.”

“In the past four years, how much money have you taken from my father, how many things have you bought, how many meals have you eaten?”

“What time, where to stay, how much to spend, what to buy.”

“It's impossible to miss even one item.”

Her face immediately turned pale.

“I… I don't remember…”

“Don't remember?”

I leaned closer to her, my voice lowered to a chilling level.

“So let me help you remember, okay?”

“First year, during the National Day holiday, you went to Hong Kong to buy an LV Messenger bag, thirteen thousand five hundred yuan.”

“Second year, Valentine's Day, you posted a photo of afternoon tea at the Peninsula Hotel to your circle of friends, a double set cost one thousand eight hundred and eighty eight yuan.”

“On your third year, you posted a photo of a Ferrari steering wheel, with the caption saying: ‘Thank you, honey.’”

"That car is my father's company car. He just came back from a charity party that day."

Every time I say another sentence... Lam Vy's whole body trembles more intensely. She didn't expect that the "luxurious moments" that she meticulously built to show off... In my place, would turn into clear pieces of evidence.

“How did you…”

“How do I know?”

I stood up straight and looked at her coldly.

“Because every time you brag…”

“They're all reminding me how stupid I am.”

I threw the pen down at her feet.

“If you can't write…”

“I will post all these photos and the transfer history between you and my father on the school forum.”

“Let everyone see…”

“What exactly is their so-called ‘rich lady’?”

“No! Don't!”

Lam Vy screamed, rushed forward and grabbed my pant leg.

"I wrote it! I wrote it! Please don't post it!"

It's what people like her value the most. A person who lives on vain glory will fear the most of being exposed. Lam Vy picked up the pen, her hands trembling, and began to write down that pure white notebook - A list of her own sins. I don't look at her anymore. Just pulled my suitcase and walked out of the room I had lived in for four years. The door closed behind. Also buried my stupid youth. Sitting in the car home, I sent my dad a text message.

“Dad, help me check how much money you have transferred to a girl named Lam Vy in the past four years.”

“Send your entire transaction history to me.”

My father answered almost immediately. There is only one word. He understood everything. That silence was his silent apology to me. But I don't blame dad. He just did it out of kindness, wanting to help a "poor female student" whom he thought was pitiful. He didn't know that female student... She slept on his daughter's top bunk. Don't even know that— Every amount of money you give will eventually turn into a knife stabbing back into my heart. The real sinner... She took advantage of my father's kindness. Also took advantage of my trust. Returning home, the large villa was empty without a single person. My father is still at the company handling work. I showered, changed clothes and sat in front of the computer in the office. Very soon, dad's email was sent. Is a compressed file with a password. Inside is an Excel sheet Scary details. Date. Receiver. Be clear about each item. My eyes stopped at the last summary line. One hundred seventy-eight thousand yuan. One hundred seventy eighty thousand. I took a deep breath, feeling a pain in my chest. That's not a small number. It's enough to change the fate of an ordinary family. Yet Lam Vy used that money to buy branded goods, nurturing her pitiful vanity. I printed out the entire statistics table. One sheet at a time. Arrange neatly on the table. After that, I took out my phone and opened the chat box with Lam Vy. Our last message still stopped yesterday. She sent me a photo of a new version of Dior bag, asking if it was beautiful. At that time, I even replied: Now that I think about it... It's really funny and ironic. I took out my other secondary phone and started taking pictures of the entire conversation history between me and her. From the first day four years ago. One page at a time. Don't miss anything. Including the times I transferred money to her. Includes voice clips of her crying and complaining about poverty. Also included were chats where she bragged about the gifts her "boyfriend" gave her right in front of me. By the time everything was done… It was completely dark outside. My father returned. He stood in front of the office door, looking at me with extremely complicated eyes.

“Giai Giai…”

“Dad, there's no need to apologize.”

I stood up.

“The person who needs to say sorry… is not dad.”

I pushed the pre-printed stack of transfer history papers in front of him.

“I need your dad to help me with something.”

“You say it.”

“I need a lawyer.”

My voice was terrifyingly calm.

“The best lawyer, specializing in financial fraud and civil disputes.”

My father looked at me, surprise flashing in his eyes. But very quickly after that, there was only absolute praise and support left. He didn't ask why. Nor do I advise you to leave it alone. He just picked up the phone and made a call.

"Lawyer Qin? I'm Hua Chan Bang."

“I have something to do, I want your help.”

After hanging up the phone, my father looked at me and said:

“Tomorrow morning at nine o'clock, lawyer Tan will come home.”

I nodded slightly. At that moment, my phone vibrated. It's a message from Lam Vy. A photo. In the photo is a notebook filled with several pages of writing. It's full of everything she's spent over the past four years... Along with my trampled trust. Below there is also a choked voice full of crying:

“Giai Giai… I finished writing everything…”

“Please… can you forgive me…”

I don't answer. But open another phone number and send a message. The recipient is Lam Vy's mother. Trieu Le Hoa. I found that phone number in Lam Vy's old phone. The content of the message is very simple:

“Hello Aunt Trieu, I am Hua Giai.”

"About Lam Vy pretending to be a poor student to trick my father - Mr. Hua Chan Bang - into sponsoring a total of one hundred seventy-eight thousand yuan, I think... we need to talk."

The phone screen lights up in the dark. That message was exactly like a letter declaring war. But the war... has just begun.