Chapter 7 — Seventy-Eight Billion And The President Has No Heir

News that the chairman was still alive spread before the council could meet again.

The next morning, Vu's photo appeared on all news sites. One photo was of him coming out of the hotel, the other was cropped to look like he was hugging a woman. The headline called him a man who staged an accident to hide his gambling debt.

Minh Chau held a press conference. She said the family just wanted to protect the group's image, and that Vu's appearance was "a performance that needs to be investigated."

Vu did not immediately object. He told me to sit in the data room and watch each virtual account post. More than half were created in the same week, authentic phone numbers belonging to Chau's media company.

“You just let them say that?” I asked.

"If I react, they will drag me into the love story. If I stay silent, they will have to create more evidence themselves."

“You look like someone who has already planned ten steps.”

"I used to think. After the accident, I learned to only take three steps and then look at the road."

Those words reminded me of the ticket in the drawer. Money made me think I controlled my future; Vu understands that a small incident is enough to cause all plans to collapse.

That afternoon, Khang called. He received an invitation to work as a chef for a restaurant chain belonging to Tan Cuong. The current salary is three times higher.

“Do you want to accept it?” I asked.

"No. If it were the company you're cooperating with, I'd want to open my own kitchen."

“You haven't told me about the company.”

“I saw you going to the shareholder meeting in the newspaper.”

I stiffened.

Khang did not ask for money. He just said:

"If you're hiding something, tell me when you're ready. But don't let others use me as your weakness."

That night, a black car stopped in front of the apartment. The man in the car took a photo of my door and then left. Vu sent security guards, but I refused to take Khang somewhere else.

“We're not running,” I said.

Khang pulled the curtain, put the vegetable knife in the drawer and smiled faintly.

"I only know how to cook. If anyone comes in, I'll ask them what they want to eat."

I laughed, but my hands were still cold.

Phone vibrates. The anonymous message had only one sentence:

"Do you want to know who signed for you? Come to warehouse number 17 alone."

I didn't tell Vu. I called Hoang Nam, prepared a pocket camera and sent the automatic location to Khang.

For the first time, I proactively walked into a trap.