Chapter 5 — Playing Poor with the Heiress

Unless To Niem herself actively requests me for the task, I am left to wonder: is she searching for an opportunity to draw me closer, or has she already begun to harbor suspicions about my true motives? That afternoon, I sent the budget estimate to her email. The data was accurate, yet I deliberately inserted an anomaly in the promotional expenses: a line item of two hundred and eighty thousand for outdoor advertising. Its actual effectiveness was virtually zero, but it had been a recurring expense for years. This particular sum was funneled directly to an advertising agency owned by an old classmate of Vuong Duc Phat. It was a textbook case of misappropriating company funds. I wanted to see if To Niem would catch it. If she were conducting a thorough audit, such a glaring vulnerability was not something she should overlook.

By seven in the evening, as I was preparing to head home, a notification pinged in my inbox. The sender was To Niem. The content was brief: "Received, thank you. I have a question regarding the third-quarter promotional costs. There is a substantial outdoor advertising expense; could you provide the supporting data for its effectiveness?" I looked at the screen and smirked. Just as I expected. She had identified the discrepancy in less than three hours. I replied: That particular expense was decided directly by Director Vuong, and I do not have access to the effectiveness data. I suggest you ask him directly.

I kicked the ball back into her court. It was not that I didn't want to help her, but I needed to see how she would handle the situation. If she went straight to Vuong Duc Phat, it would be far too obvious—tantamount to telling him, "Someone is investigating you." But if she bypassed him to investigate, she would need to exercise authority that her administrative role did not technically possess. Regardless of which path she chose, it was bound to reveal a few of her cards.

The following morning, To Niem did not bring me breakfast, nor did she press the issue regarding the expenses. She acted as if nothing had happened, sitting quietly at her desk organizing documents. However, I noticed that during the lunch break, she made a trip to the finance department and stayed for fifteen minutes. When she returned, her expression remained calm, and she held a glass of water from the pantry. But as she glanced toward Vuong Duc Phat’s office, her gaze held an extra layer of something. It was cold—the precise, chilling cold of someone who has confirmed their data and reached an irreversible conclusion. She had solved the puzzle, and she had done so without startling the prey. Miss To, you are far more formidable than I imagined.

During lunch, Ly Huong slid over to my table. "Tran Du, have you noticed that To Niem has been acting a bit strange lately?"

"Strange in what way?"

"She keeps running over to finance. Why would an administrative assistant be hovering around the finance department?"

"Perhaps it is for work requirements."

"The most an administrative assistant deals with finance is for expense reimbursements. Does that really take over ten minutes?" Ly Huong lowered his voice, his expression full of gossip. "Do you think she’s a plant sent by the company headquarters? Like someone from an internal discipline committee?" I nearly spat out my food.

"You watch way too many television dramas."

"No, think about it. Since she arrived, administration has been tracking the processes of every department daily. Last week, she even made us fill out that ridiculous 'internal satisfaction survey'."

"That is normal administrative work."

"Normal, my foot. Has administration ever cared about those things before?"

I took a bite of my meal and remained silent. Ly Huong was right; To Niem’s "administrative work" truly exceeded the scope of her position. But she was clever—every step she took was wrapped in a perfectly reasonable professional justification. The surveys were issued under the guise of "optimizing the workplace," and the trips to finance were disguised as "reconciling administrative purchase lists." On the surface, she was airtight. Yet, she could not account for people like Ly Huong, who spent every waking moment observing others. If even Ly Huong was beginning to suspect something, Vuong Duc Phat would eventually take notice.

At two in the afternoon, Vuong Duc Phat left to meet a client, leaving the office much quieter. I was drafting a report on my computer when my phone vibrated. A WeChat message from To Niem. When did she add me? Ah, that was right—when we were discussing the budget estimates last week. The message read: "Tran Du, is it convenient to speak privately? The pantry." I set my phone down, waited thirty seconds, and replied: Yes.

I grabbed my mug and headed to the pantry. To Niem was already there, leaning against the counter by the water dispenser, cradling a glass of warm water. The room was empty.

"What is it?" I asked, my voice casual as I filled my mug.

To Niem did not dive straight to the point. She took a sip of water, as if gathering her thoughts. Then, she spoke. "How long have you been at this company?"

"Over eight months."

"As for someone like Director Vuong... what is your assessment of him?"

I shot her a glance. The question was far too direct. It didn't sound like she was probing; it sounded like she was cross-verifying information. She already had her own conclusion, and now she just needed an insider to serve as a witness.

"Do you want the polite version or the truth?" I leaned against the wall.

"The truth."

"He lacks ability, steals credit for the work of others, and treats his subordinates in a way that burns them out."

To Niem nodded, her expression unchanged. This answer was well within her expectations.

"Then why haven't you left?" she asked suddenly.

The question caught me off guard. Why hadn't I left? Because this was my family’s company—where else could I go?