Chapter 12 — The Call That Locked My In-Laws Out

I sat in the living room, organizing my financial transactions from the past year by date. I was barely halfway through when the bank’s VIP hotline rang.

"Ms. Ha, a moment ago, the secondary card ending in 6912 attempted an installment transaction, but the system intercepted it."

My hand, holding the pen, froze.

"What kind of installment?"

The customer service representative replied, "The application was for jewelry, totaling two hundred and sixty thousand. In the file, the emergency contact is listed as you."

I asked, "Who is the applicant?"

The representative paused before answering, "Manh Thoi Vien."

Two hundred and sixty thousand. I stared at the mountain of bank statements on the table, suddenly understanding why Manh Thoi Vien was so desperate. He was not just short on cash to pay the remainder of the hotel bill, nor was he simply helping Manh Thoi An clean up her mess. He had been digging a debt trap under my name for a long time. If the secondary card had not been blocked, this installment would likely have quietly bled into my account as well. I requested that the representative email me the application file and the notification of the block. She reminded me, "Ms. Ha, we strongly recommend that you update the security credentials for your primary card and revoke all future authorization for the secondary card."

I said, "Close it entirely."

After hanging up, I contacted my lawyer friend. Once she reviewed the email, her voice turned cold. "This is no longer just a family matter. You must clearly delineate the boundaries of all these debts." She instructed me to head to the bank immediately to print every statement and obtain an official document confirming the account’s compromised status. My mother, worried about me, handed the baby to the nanny who had just arrived and accompanied me. In the bank’s VIP lounge, the manager looked over the stack of transaction histories, her expression growing increasingly troubled. There were eighty thousand in hotel deposits, sixteen thousand eight hundred for wedding photos, one hundred and twenty-eight thousand at a jewelry center, and forty-two thousand for a vehicle rental deposit. There were also various charges for restaurants, hotels, flowers, and jewelry that appeared during my pregnancy. The manager asked cautiously, "Are you aware of these expenses?"

I replied, "Most of them, no."

She nodded. "Then we can assist you in providing the details of the secondary card usage and note the reasons for the block. However, for the transactions that have already occurred, you will need to pursue recovery through legal channels."

I said, "I understand."

Leaving the bank, I did not go home. I told the driver to change course toward the hospital. My child’s birth certificate had not yet been finalized. Manh Thoi Vien’s words—"give the child his name and then take him away"—weighed heavily on my heart. I would not give them any more loopholes. At the maternity ward, the nurse recognized me. Seeing my mother there as well, she whispered, "Has the situation at home been resolved?"

I shook my head. "I want to verify the documents for my child’s birth registration."

The nurse led me to the counter. The staff checked the system, their brows furrowing almost immediately. "The child’s father came in this morning."

My heart sank. "What did he do?"

The staff member flipped through the file. "He submitted copies of the parents' identification and registered an appointment to pick up the birth certificate."

My mother’s complexion changed instantly. "By what right?"

The staff member was visibly uncomfortable. "According to protocol, we require the mother to confirm in person, or to provide a letter of authorization from the mother."

I asked, "Does he have one?"

The employee opened the scanned document. On the screen appeared a letter of authorization. The content stated that due to physical inconvenience, I had authorized Manh Thoi Vien to handle all procedures regarding the child’s birth certificate. The signature at the bottom read: Ha Thanh Hoa. The handwriting looked exactly like mine. But I had never written this authorization. As I stared at those three characters, the back of my hand began to turn cold. My mother slammed her hand on the counter. "This is a forgery!"

People nearby turned to look. I held my mother’s hand, struggling to keep my voice steady. "Please, help me temporarily freeze the entire process. I am the child’s mother, and I am formally declaring that I have not authorized Manh Thoi Vien to handle anything."

The staff, realizing the gravity of the situation, immediately summoned the department head. The manager’s attitude was far more cautious. "Ms. Ha, we can temporarily block this registration process, but you will need to submit a written statement."

My lawyer friend arrived just then. She presented my identification and the police report from the previous night. "We demand that you preserve the surveillance footage, the sign-in logs, and the original letter of authorization submitted by the male party this morning."

The manager nodded. "Understood."

By the time the procedures were finished, it was already late afternoon. I stood in the hospital corridor, remembering the day of the birth when Manh Thoi Vien had arrived late. He had stood by the bed, looked at the baby twice, and remarked that he looked like him. Back then, I thought he was just being aloof. Now I knew he didn't lack a sense of responsibility; he simply viewed responsibility as a pawn. On the way home, my lawyer friend zoomed in on the signature. "Look at this," she pointed to the final stroke. "It doesn't look like a recreation. It looks like it was traced over a signature from a document you had signed previously."

I immediately thought of something.