Chapter 16 — Hockey Stars Can't Overcome My Figure

Calculated Tears

Cao Viet Anh contacted Thuy Dung at the beginning of the third week of the investigation, after many efforts to find out through old relationships at the Y Duc clinic. The phone conversation was brief and cautious — Thuy Dung initially refused to talk, but after Cao Viet Anh reassured her that he had no intention of causing her legal trouble but just wanted to find out the truth to protect an innocent child, she gradually opened up.

"I can't say much over the phone," Thuy Dung said, her voice filled with worry. "But I can confirm that four years ago, I received a large sum of money... to handle some paperwork at the clinic. I don't want to say anything more, I'm afraid."

Cao Viet Anh spent another half hour trying to convince Thuy Dung to open up more, gently explaining that if she cooperated in providing information, he could help her gain legal protection, avoiding any consequences that might arise from Kim Vong's family. “I understand you're scared,” he said, his voice patient. "But if you stay silent, that child will continue to grow up in a lie, and those who used you to set up this story will never be held accountable."

"I need to think more," Thuy Dung replied, her voice still shaking with fear. "They warned me very clearly that if I revealed anything, they would sue me for violating the confidentiality agreement I signed, and I didn't have enough money to hire a lawyer to fight such a large corporation."

"You will not be alone if you decide to tell the truth," Cao Viet Anh assured. "I will make sure you have the legal support you need. But the decision is yours, and I will respect whatever you choose."

That's not a full confession, but it's enough to reinforce Cao Viet Anh's theory. He reported this information to Yen Thao and Chan Phong that same evening, emphasizing that they needed to find a way to convince Thuy Dung to provide an official statement, possibly accompanied by DNA evidence confirming that she was baby Bin's true biological mother.

Meanwhile, in another corner of Bang Giang city, Bao Duy is experiencing endless sleepless nights. His performance began to clearly decline in the last two matches - inaccurate shots, slow decisions on the ice that before, under Yen Thao's psychological support, he had never suffered to such a serious degree.

After the second consecutive defeat, he went to Ha Vy's apartment, not to visit little Bin as usual, but to directly confront the growing doubts in his heart.

"I need to know the truth, Ha Vy," he said, his voice tense. "I heard some unclear information about the clinic where you gave birth to baby Bin. I need you to do a DNA test right away, we can't delay any longer."

Ha Vy, after a fleeting moment of embarrassment that she quickly concealed, began to cry — tears she had mastered through years of learning how to control her emotions in front of others to get what she wanted. "Do you doubt me too?" she sobbed. "After all I've sacrificed to raise my child alone, now you believe in baseless rumors instead of trusting me?"

"I didn't say I didn't believe you," Bao Duy said, his voice softened somewhat by her tears, although his mind still tried to cling to the questions that needed to be answered. "I just need clarity, for both of us and for you."

"If you take the test now," Ha Vy said, her voice turning from sobbing to a subtle threat cleverly disguised as worry, "and that news leaks out before the official results are out, what will the public think? They will think you are a man who does not dare to accept responsibility, willing to hurt a child just because of unfounded suspicions. How will Viet Thinh view you? How will the football team view you? I don't want to see your career collapse. Falling down just because of a moment of rashness, Bao Duy."

That statement, although in the form of concern, was actually a carefully calculated threat, striking at Bao Duy's deepest fear - the fear of losing the image and career he had worked so hard to build. He remained silent, feeling his initial determination gradually waver at those words.

"I beg you," Ha Vy continued, holding his hand, her voice softening. "Give me a little more time. I promise to agree to the test, but let me mentally prepare my child first, and let us find a way to do it as discreetly as possible, away from all cameras. I don't want my child to grow up with the memory of his father doubting his origin."

Bao Duy nodded, once again giving in to that delicately orchestrated emotional pressure. He left Ha Vy's apartment with a deeply conflicted feeling — the rational part of him knew something was wrong, but the emotional part, dominated by the fear and guilt that Ha Vy skillfully planted, was still not strong enough for him to act decisively.

That night, sitting alone in the apartment, he received a text message from Yen Thao's father - Dai Trong Nghiep - asking about his recent decline in performance, along with a short but meaningful question: "Are you being honest with yourself about everything, Bao Duy?"

He looked at that message for a long time, not knowing how to respond. He knew the honest answer was no — he was avoiding, procrastinating, letting fear control decisions that should be based on reason and fairness. But admitting that, even just to himself, meant he had to face the possibility that he had made a serious mistake in the way he treated Yen Thao, the person who had spent four years of her life supporting him without asking for anything in return.

He turned off his phone and didn't respond to his messages, telling himself that he would find the answer when things became clearer — a line that had become a familiar refrain over the past several weeks, each time pushing back the moment when he had to actually face the truth a little further.

The next day, at practice, coach Dai Trong Nghiep observed Bao Duy from afar and clearly noticed the decline not only in form but also in spirit of his star player. He called him into the office after practice, not to scold him, but to try one last time to evoke honesty in him.

"Bao Duy, I'm not asking you about your private matter with Ha Vy," he said, his voice calm but with the weight of an experienced person. "But I ask you as a coach: are you playing with all your heart and mind? Because I see on the ice a person who is fighting with ghosts in his head, not with the opponent in front of him."

Bao Duy bowed his head and did not answer immediately. That question, simple but sharp, made him realize more clearly than ever the gap between the person he was trying to portray to the public and the truly confused and scared person inside.

"I'll try to find my form again, uncle," was all he could say, even though they both knew that wasn't the real answer to the question that had just been asked.

Dai Trong Nghiep watched him leave the office, his heart heavy with a disappointment that was hard to name. He hoped, even just a little, that his question could arouse in Bao Duy enough courage to face the truth. But he understands that people cannot be forced to be courageous if they are not ready, and perhaps, Bao Duy will only truly awaken when pushed to the end, with no place left to hide from the truth.

He thought of his daughter, of Chan Phong, of the entire silent investigation going on that he only knew a small part of through what Yen Thao revealed. He didn't know exactly how far they had gone, but he sensed, with the premonition of someone who had led the team through countless turbulent seasons, that a storm bigger than anything that had happened so far was silently building, just waiting for the right moment to explode, and he could only hope that when that moment came, his daughter would be strong enough to stand in the middle of that storm.