Chapter 4 — An Amicable Parting

He tricked me into signing a fraudulent share transfer agreement, stripping away every single asset held in my name, and even went so far as to hire ruffians to vandalize my father's grave while threatening me into releasing a false public confession. Every single word of this is the absolute truth, and I will never, under any circumstances, choose to forgive him.

Khuong Hang nodded solemnly, slipping the dense stack of legal documents back into his leather briefcase.

"I will file these motions with the court first thing tomorrow morning."

I paused for a brief moment, deep in thought, before adding with resolute determination:

"Lawyer Khuong Hang, I promise you that my heart will not soften this time around."

A knowing, faint smile touched the corners of his mouth.

"I know it won't."

Stepping out of the law firm, I was greeted by the heavy night wind sweeping across the bustling metropolis of Capital City, carrying with it the oppressive humidity of late August intertwined with a subtle, crisp chill whispering of approaching autumn. Standing beneath the towering streetlamp, I lifted my gaze toward the hazy halo surrounding the moon hanging high in the sky, suddenly feeling as though every suffocating breath I had been forced to swallow over the past three agonizing years was finally being released into the open air at this very second. Three years ago, I had foolishly played the fool just once. In this lifetime, that singular mistake would be my last.

Neither Khuong Hang nor I paid the slightest attention to the ten o'clock deadline that Lam Sam Tran had arrogantly demanded. The following morning, precisely as the clock struck the start of business hours, two distinct legal notices dispatched by Khuong Hang were delivered—one to the prestigious Lotus Building and the other directly to Lam Sam Tran's private residence. The first notice officially petitioned for a retrial of the tax-evasion and framing case, while the second constituted a formal civil lawsuit demanding the total nullification of the share transfer agreement alongside the complete restitution of all assets that had been wrongfully seized and relocated. Right at ten o'clock, a brand-new post surfaced across the digital landscape. It was not the theatrical statement of severance that Lam Sam Tran had threatened, but rather a public declaration penned entirely by my own hand. The headline contained a single, chilling sentence: Everyone must bear the consequences of their own misdeeds. I have already paid my dues; when is it your turn to pay yours? Attached to the post were pristine photographs of the original tax evasion documents bearing Lam Sam Tran's personal signature, surveillance footage capturing the exact moment of our prison visitation when I was coerced into signing the transfer papers, and a detailed financial ledger cross-referencing the cash flow between his clandestine offshore accounts and the company's official books. The final image was a photograph of my late father's desecrated gravestone, with Lam Sam Tran standing right beside it, the timestamp stamped unmistakably in the corner. Within half an hour of its publication, the post had garnered over ten thousand shares, accompanied by a flood of indignant comments: Was the author nothing more than a convenient scapegoat? She spent three wrongful years behind bars for this? It wasn't just imprisonment; she was defrauded of every last cent she owned! Luring someone into taking the fall and then tricking them into signing away their assets—does this man have any moral bottom line left? Wan Ning Chu is a viper biting the hand that feeds her; she was subsidized for eighteen years only to turn around and rob her benefactor of both husband and wealth. Even a venomous snake wouldn't be this cruel!

At twenty past ten, Lam Sam Tran's phone call buzzed on my screen. I merely glanced at it before pressing the reject button. Undeterred, he switched to three alternative numbers, dialing one after another, all of which I ruthlessly blocked. At eleven o'clock, Wan Ning Chu sent me a message: "You Duo, do you genuinely intend to ruin me? How could you possibly be this vicious?"

Vicious? Compared to the horrific atrocities she and Lam Sam Tran had inflicted upon both me and my beloved father, my actions were remarkably merciful. Even so, I left her message entirely unanswered. By twelve noon, Khuong Hang called me directly.

"The procuratorates have formally initiated an investigation. Lam Sam Tran will be summoned this afternoon."

"Understood."

"There is one more matter."

Khuong Hang's voice dropped to a lower, graver register: "Wan Ning Chu vanished from the hospital this morning. According to the medical staff, she forced her way through discharge procedures in the dead of night, and her current whereabouts remain completely unknown."

Clutching the phone tightly, I stood motionless by the window of my modest rented apartment. The afternoon sunlight poured in, casting a stark, brilliant white glow across the wooden floorboards.

"She will not be able to run away."

My tone was utterly devoid of doubt:

"Every single retribution that is meant for her—she will not escape a single one of them."

At three o'clock in the afternoon, news reports covering Lam Sam Tran being taken away by the investigative authorities flashed across the local broadcast. The financial channel dedicated an extensive segment to the developing story. Footage showed him flanked tightly by two officers as he was escorted into the government building, his designer suit rumpled, his tie skewed sharply to one side, and his face frozen in a mask of deadpan apathy. I clicked off the television and began the process of packing up the room. Pulling open the lowest drawer of the bedside table, I discovered a solitary letter resting quietly inside. The envelope had yellowed significantly with age, bearing a postmark dated three years prior, having arrived precisely during the second month of my incarceration. The sender was my father. With trembling fingers, I unfolded the heavily creased sheet of paper. Written upon it was his characteristically shaky handwriting. The strokes were crooked, etched with tremendous physical force, suggesting he must have struggled valiantly against his failing health while confined to his sickbed just to pen these lines. "My dear daughter, I know the true nature of your character, and thus I believe in you. If you chose this path, you must have had your own compelling reasons, but there is one thing I must tell you. In the ledger of human life, every single cent must be accounted for with absolute clarity. You cannot shoulder a debt on behalf of another that was never yours to bear."

The final lines were nearly illegible, the ink having bled and blurred into an indistinct smudge. "My daughter, I am waiting for you to come home."

I folded the letter neatly and pressed it gently against my chest. Three years had finally passed. Father, I am coming to bring you home at last.

On the third day following Lam Sam Tran's formal detention, Wan Ning Chu resurfaced. Khuong Hang called to inform me that she had proactively contacted the law firm, urgently requesting a face-to-face meeting with me. Without a second thought, I flatly refused. There was nothing left to discuss between the two of us. However, Khuong Hang added a caveat, noting that she happened to be holding certain items that might genuinely pique my interest.