Chapter 9 — My Sister-in-Law Is Not My Maid

Mother, this is my workplace. If we need to discuss something, let us find somewhere else to talk.

I am not going anywhere!

My mother-in-law grabbed tightly onto my arm.

If you do not withdraw your lawsuit today, I am not leaving! Vu Dong's child is still so young, and creditors are already banging on Phuong Cam Than's door. Are you trying to force people to their deaths?

The middle-aged woman standing beside her also chimed in.

You are Lam Niem So, right? I am Trac Vien's second aunt. You are being far too ruthless. Must members of the same family really drag each other to court?

I pulled my arm away from my mother-in-law's grip and stepped backward.

Mother, firstly, Phuong Cam Than's debts do not require the sale of my house to settle them; he has his own ways of dealing with his mess. Secondly, you intended to use the proceeds from selling the house to buy a separate property for Trac Vien, registered exclusively under his name. I have proof of this.

My mother-in-law's face instantly turned pale.

You... what nonsense are you spouting?

Would you like me to read our chat history aloud? There are a great many people around here.

My mother-in-law retreated two steps, her lips trembling. That second aunt of his froze as well, opening her mouth but failing to utter a single word.

Mother, this is the last time I will say this.

My voice was very soft, yet every syllable rang out with absolute clarity.

I am determined to go through with this divorce. As for the apartment, I will take whatever share is rightfully mine—not a single penny more, not a single penny less. Go back and tell Trac Vien to find himself a lawyer quickly. Do not come to my company to cause a scene again; next time, I will have security throw you out directly.

I turned and walked into the lobby, abandoning the idea of buying a sandwich, and headed straight for the elevator. The moment the elevator doors closed, I heard my mother-in-law shrieking from behind.

Lam Niem So, you will meet your retribution!

I was alone inside the elevator. Watching the digital floor numbers tick upward one by one, I let out a long breath. Retribution. If such a thing existed, it should fall upon the Tran family first. My mother-in-law's scene at the office quickly spread throughout the company. The very next day, Trinh Hac Nien asked to speak with me. I assumed he wanted to reprimand me for the disturbance, but instead, he simply asked a single question.

Is there anything the company can do to assist you? For instance, adding a formal visitor registration system at the front desk?

Just adding the registration will be sufficient, thank you, Director Trinh.

He nodded approvingly.

Very well. As long as you handle your personal affairs properly, there is no need for your work to be affected. The Lang Dinh team reviewed your detailed implementation proposal last week and they are extremely satisfied.

Yes, next Friday we will finalize the construction blueprints.

Good.

He stood up, walked toward the door, and then paused.

Oh, there is an industry conference next month themed around urban renewal and commercial spaces. The organizers have invited our firm to share a case study, and I have nominated you.

Me?

The Lang Dinh project happens to serve as an ideal topic for presentation. Think about it, and if you agree, I will confirm it with the organizers.

Very well, I will consider it.

After he left, I sat at my desk for five minutes before sending him a reply message.

I will go.

This was an opportunity. If the presentation at the industry conference went well, it would be equivalent to officially making my debut within the city's interior design circle. Back at the research institute, such a chance to shine would never have fallen to me. The director or deputy director would always take the stage—the designs were drafted by me, but the credit belonged to them. Things were different now. I was the lead designer. The work was mine. The name was mine. The person standing in the spotlight would be me. That weekend, I drafted the presentation outline for the conference, dedicating two consecutive evenings to organizing the case study and selecting the renderings. At eleven o'clock on Sunday night, as I was revising the slides for the third time, my phone rang. Tran Trac Vien. I hesitated for two seconds before answering.

What is it?

His voice sounded thoroughly exhausted.

Niem So, I received the court summons on my end. The hearing is scheduled for the fifteenth of next month.

Yes, I know.

Do you really want to go through with this?

I told you my decision a long time ago.

The other end of the line fell silent for a long moment.

Niem So, I consulted a lawyer. He said... he said that based on our contribution ratios and mortgage payment history, if the court grants the divorce, you could end up awarded over sixty percent of the apartment.

That is correct.

In other words, I would still have to pay you the difference in cash.

If the court rules it that way.

His breathing was heavy.

Are you doing all this for money?

I gave a faint laugh.

Tran Trac Vien, toward the down payment for that apartment, my parents and I contributed four hundred and fifty thousand, while your side contributed two hundred thousand. For five years of mortgage payments, I covered half—four thousand two hundred per month, amounting to two hundred and fifty thousand over five years. In total, I poured seven hundred thousand into it. The current market value is three million five hundred thousand. Based on my share, taking sixty percent comes to two million one hundred thousand—neither more nor less. Is this what you call being greedy for money? This is called taking back what rightfully belongs to me.

He said nothing.

Is there anything else?

...No.

Then I will see you in court.

I hung up the phone. As I laid the device down, I noticed a message notification from Co Thanh Van: Are you asleep yet? I replied: Not yet. She sent back: Let us have lunch together tomorrow noon. There is something I want to tell you. I answered: Alright. The following noon, Co Thanh Van came downstairs to the company building to pick me up. We headed to a nearby Japanese restaurant and booked a private room.

What is it?

I picked up a slice of salmon with my chopsticks. Co Thanh Van set her utensils down, her expression rather complicated.

Yesterday, I saw a post on my WeChat moments. Tran Vu Dong posted it.

I blocked her a long time ago. What did she post?