Chapter 24 — I Never Made It to Nam Thanh With You

Ha Man Nhu offered a hasty, strained smile, her composure fraying at the edges. "It was truly a collaborative effort," she insisted, her voice tight. "The children worked on the project together. The distribution of labor was never strictly defined."

Professor Tham shook his head, his expression stern. "Competition entries require a rigorous creative journal. The 'Ancient Home Reborn' proposal submitted by Lam Kien Nguyet two years ago was entirely her own work—from the preliminary sketches and onsite measurements to the archival research and the final defense. Co Nghien Le does not appear in a single record of that creative process, and Tong Uan Ninh even less so."

The entire hall erupted in a flurry of whispers, sounding like a wildfire crackling through dry brush. Tong Uan Ninh stammered, frantically trying to clear her name. "I never claimed the proposal was mine," she pleaded. "I was only responsible for filming the documentation video."

Professor Tham stared her down, his gaze piercing. "The commentary in that video, shown here today, is a direct plagiarism of Kien Nguyet’s field notes and oral history records. Did you ever ask the author for permission?"

Tong Uan Ninh’s face drained of color, turning as white as a sheet. "Nghien Le told me it was fine to use them..."

"The material did not belong to him," the professor interrupted, leaving her utterly speechless. He set his notebook down on the table with a firm thud. "The Co family may own the historic site, and the Lam family may have provided the restoration capital, but there is only one author for this design. Lam Kien Nguyet. That is a truth that will never change, regardless of family alliances or marriage contracts."

Suddenly, the large screen flickered and went dark. Miss Vuong, the technician in charge of the presentation, rushed toward the control console in a panic. A few seconds later, the display flared back to life. The previous promotional list, which had credited the wrong names, had been wiped away. In its place, the official competition award certificate appeared, clearly displaying the three characters: Lam Kien Nguyet.

Ha Man Nhu’s expression darkened to a mask of sheer indignation. "These were merely early practice materials for the children," she snapped. "The Te Nguyet Villa was only successfully restored because of the funding and construction teams provided by the Co family."

My father stood up then, his voice ringing out with steady authority. "The funding was a joint contribution from both the Co and Lam families. The construction teams were hired through our mutual partnership. Have you forgotten, Man Nhu?"

Ha Man Nhu froze. With a deliberate motion, my father pulled a contract from his briefcase. "I have yet to sign the addendum for our future cooperation," he stated. "I intended to discuss this after the grand opening celebration, but since we are speaking so plainly today, I will make my position clear. Kien Nguyet will not be involved in any of the Co family’s future commercial projects. Her design drafts, sketches, and field research are henceforth withdrawn from all commercial use and promotion."

Co Nghien Le looked at my father in sheer panic. "Uncle Lam, this project is about to be submitted for provincial review! If you withdraw the documentation now, all our previous efforts will be washed away."

My father remained unmoved. "That is a matter for you to reconcile yourselves. You cannot assume that just because you have a need, Kien Nguyet is obligated to remain at your beck and call."

Ha Man Nhu tried to suppress her fury. "Chinh Dinh, our families have collaborated for years. Are you really going to discard everything over a petty disagreement between the children?"

Father glanced at me for a fleeting moment before looking back at her. "Cooperation can be renegotiated from the ground up, or it can be terminated entirely. But Kien Nguyet is not a bargaining chip."

In my previous life, I had never heard those words—not until the day my father passed away. Back then, I had always felt as though I had no retreat. I believed the Co family firm needed me, that the Te Nguyet Villa needed me, that the bond between our families depended on me, and that my father’s business success hinged upon my compliance.

As it turns out, that was never the truth. I had simply never dared to ask, and I had never possessed the courage to say no. Beside me, Co Nghien Le stood frozen, paralyzed by the sudden collapse of his entitlement.