Chapter 15 — Guess, MVP Heiress Has Returned

The official hearing before the VCC technical committee is scheduled for a Thursday morning. Before the event, Luc Thanh Nam decided to go see his eldest daughter alone, without informing his wife or Y Nhi.

He found the team's dormitory and waited in the lobby until Yen Chi came down to meet him. Looking at her father's face, Yen Chi realized that he had become noticeably thinner in just a few weeks, his eyes were dark because of insomnia.

"Dad came to tell you something," Luc Thanh Nam said, his voice hoarse. "Over the past few days, I have personally reviewed all of Y Nhi's posts and statements on social networks since the day you maintained your position in the competition. I... I realized something was wrong."

Yen Chi remained silent, waiting for him to continue, not wanting to rush into the flow of thoughts forming in her father's head.

"Do you remember, the other day Y Nhi told my parents that she saw that I was stressed and pressured recently, afraid that I would do something I shouldn't do," he continued, his voice trembling somewhat. "But when I looked back at his posting timeline, I discovered that the first post alluding to him being 'overshadowed' appeared just one day after the coaching staff announced the official roster decision — before any cheating scandals were even mentioned. Meaning, he started building his victim image long before there was 'evidence' of him cheating."

Yen Chi felt an indescribable emotion rising in her heart. This was the first time, in both lives, that she witnessed her father ask questions on his own, seek the truth on his own instead of defaulting to believing in his youngest child without thinking.

"I don't want to jump to any conclusions," Luc Thanh Nam continued, "but I'm starting to wonder if Mom and Dad have believed one side of the story too easily all these years, without ever really listening to me."

"Thank you, Dad, for finding out for yourself," Yen Chi said, her voice choked. "I don't expect my parents to take my side immediately. I just hope they keep a clear head and wait until the truth is clearly proven before the technical council."

"Dad will be present at the hearing," Luc Thanh Nam said, his voice much more decisive than his usual hesitation. "I want to hear all the evidence firsthand, from both sides."

After her father left, Yen Chi stood silently for a long time in the dormitory lobby, feeling a small but warm ray of hope spreading in her heart. She knows, this is not a complete change, but at least, the door to the truth is gradually opening.

At home, after Luc Thanh Nam left, Hoang Thi Nga sat alone in the living room, filled with conflicts. She searched her phone, reread the messages Y Nhi sent her over the past weeks, trying to find consistency in her youngest child's story. She realized that every time she was asked specifically about something, Y Nhi always answered vaguely and evasively, only focusing on her own hurt feelings without ever giving any specific, verifiable details.

She recalled, not long ago, when she asked Y Nhi directly if she knew anything about the origin of the "evidence" denouncing Yen Chi, Y Nhi responded with a vague statement: "I don't know who sent that denunciation, but I think there must be some reason why they did that." That answer, looking back now, had a completely different tone - as if Y Nhi was deliberately avoiding directly denying the possibility of her sister cheating, while a younger sister who truly believed her sister was innocent would have objected much more strongly.

Hoang Thi Nga put down the phone, feeling an uneasy feeling rising in her heart. For the past twenty years, she had always believed that she was protecting her weaker child, but now, a terrifying question began to form in her mind: had she, during those years, unintentionally nurtured a toxic jealousy in Y Nhi's heart, to the point where she was willing to harm her own sister to satisfy her personal ambitions?

She didn't dare to think anymore, but she couldn't push that thought away either. That night, when Y Nhi returned home after practice, Hoang Thi Nga looked at her youngest daughter with eyes that were different from usual - no longer the eyes of care and unconditional compassion, but the eyes of someone trying to see through the cover to find the truth.

"Y Nhi," she called, her voice rarely serious, "please sit down here, I want to ask you something sincere."

Y Nhi paused for a moment before her mother's strange eyes, but quickly regained her familiar composure. "What do you want to ask?"

"Do you really believe your sister is innocent?" Hoang Thi Nga asked directly, her eyes never leaving her daughter's face, trying to read every smallest expression.

Y Nhi was silent for a second longer than usual before responding, and that silence, although very short, did not escape the delicate observation of a mother who was starting to get suspicious.

"I... I hope you're innocent," Y Nhi replied, her voice somewhat forced. "But I'm not sure about anything, Mom."

Hoang Thi Nga looked at her youngest daughter for a long time, a cold feeling rising in her heart that she had never experienced before - the feeling of a mother facing the possibility for the first time that the child she always trusted and protected, may not be as pure as she thought.

"I just hope you tell me the truth," she continued, her voice softening but still maintaining her seriousness. "If you know anything about this, no matter how small, please tell me. I'm the mother of both of you, I don't want to accidentally hurt the other unfairly just by defending one."

"I've already said everything I know," Y Nhi replied, her voice a bit grumpy in a rare way before she could restrain herself. "Why do you keep asking over and over again? Don't you believe me?"

That counter question, with a slightly more aggressive tone than usual, made Hoang Thi Nga even more confused. In the past, whenever being questioned, Y Nhi usually just cried and appeared hurt, but rarely reacted so harshly. That slight change in attitude, even if only fleeting, was enough to plant another seed of doubt in her heart.

"I'm not saying I don't believe you," Hoang Thi Nga replied, trying to keep her voice calm. "I just want to make sure that, no matter what the outcome of tomorrow's hearing is, our family will still treat both sisters fairly, not favoring anyone just because of personal feelings."

Y Nhi did not respond, just bowed her head, silently walked to her own room, leaving Hoang Thi Nga sitting alone in the living room with a series of unanswered questions. She looked out the window, the streetlight casting a pale halo of light into the living room, her heart heavy with an uneasy premonition that was growing larger and larger, unable to dispel.

That night, Hoang Thi Nga struggled to sleep. She recalled the image of Yen Chi when she was young, always the first child to apologize when there was a disagreement, always giving in to her sister even when she was at a disadvantage. She wondered if it was Yen Chi's docility and patience that made her and her husband take all of their child's sacrifices for granted, without ever truly putting themselves in their child's position to feel the injustice he had to endure over the years.

She sat up, opened the phone, looked at the old conversation with Yen Chi, her finger hovered on the screen for a long time but could not type a word. In the end, she only sent a short message: "Tomorrow I will go to the hearing with dad. No matter the outcome, I am still your mother." Sending the message, she put down the phone, closed her eyes, feeling a mixture of insecurity and remorse rolling in her heart, signaling that tomorrow would not be an easy day for the whole family.

Not far away, at the team dormitory, Yen Chi received that text message from her mother right before going to bed. She read it over and over again, feeling something warm and fragile rising in her heart at the same time. This was not a statement on her side, nor a complete apology, but it was the first sign that, after many years, her mother was starting to learn to be more fair. She typed back a short line: "Thank you, Mom", then put the phone aside, mentally preparing for the important hearing that would take place the next morning.